“What is?”

“Maya’s . . . great. The first night we met, you said you two used to not get along, but clearly you worked through your issues. Meanwhile, I’d get a restraining order for my brother if I weren’t a fucking wimp.”

He nodded. “Maya is great, and we now have a good relationship that I wouldn’t change for anything. But . . .” He swallowed. “Want a story?”

“Depends. Is it terrible?”

His laugh was low. “It’s the most terrible of all of them, Rue.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her nod was solemn.

“I don’t even know where to start. How about—Maya is great now, but when she was fifteen, she slashed the tires of my car because I told her she couldn’t go to a midnight screening of some shitty horror movie on a school night.” He winced at the memory. “And when I grounded her to punish her, she slashed the new set, too.”

Rue’s eyes widened. And then deviated from their routine: she asked a question. “Who gave you the right to tell your sister what she could and couldn’t do?”

“Are you siding with her?”

“No.” She sniffled. “Maybe?”

He chuckled. “I got custody of her when she was eleven. The court gave me the right. Literally.”

“And your parents?”

“They died one year apart from each other. Unrelated. My mom first, acute leukemia. Then Dad—car accident.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“And you were her only remaining relative?”

“There are some scattered uncles and second cousins, but none here in Austin, and none she knew well. I was an adult and her brother. There was no question in anyone’s mind that I should be the one taking care of her—not even in mine.”

“If someone asked me to take care of an eleven-year-old, I wouldn’t know where to start,” she mused.

“Same here. Maya was a toddler when I moved out for college. I didn’t get along with my parents, so I rarely went back home and hardly saw her.”

“Is that why the last thing you told your mom . . . ?”

“About being a shitty mother?” He sighed. “My dad was the kind of disciplinarian who’d ground you for days for a perceived eye roll, and I was . . . a shithead. His approach did not work for me. Constant fights, ultimatums, threats—them trying to get me to be less wild. Me being ever more wild, out of spite. All that teenage shit. And my mom, she deferred to him in everything, so.” He shrugged. “If I could talk to them now, adult to adult, maybe we’d get over that stuff. But I moved to Minnesota to play hockey. Took all sorts of part-time jobs. I’d go back home once a year for a couple of days, tops. Then grad school started, and you know how busy it gets. I was in the same city as my family. I could have visited more, but home was a place where I’d been miserable for three-quarters of my life, and there was so much baggage on both our ends. The last time I saw my mom was on my birthday. They invited me over for dinner. The conversation devolved into the usual recriminations. A few weeks later my mother died.” He’d had a decade to work through the kinks of these regrets, and they were still tangled in his head. Always would be. As it was, he couldn’t stand his fucking birthday. “Then my dad, fourteen months later. And I was my sister’s guardian.”

Rue’s eyes held neither pity nor condemnation. “Was Maya . . .” She shook her head. “Were you okay?”

Had anyone ever asked him that before? Everyone’s focus had been on Maya, rightfully so. Eli’s heart thudded, and he covered it with a laugh. “I was definitely not okay. I was freaking the fuck out. I didn’t know Maya at all. I had no money, I’d just been kicked out of my doctoral program, and my parents’ mortgage still needed to be paid. And Maya . . . initially, she was just mourning. Later, the grief turned into anger, and she had to take it out on someone. The two available options were me and herself, and she spared neither.” He swallowed. “I don’t think she would deny that she was kind of an asshole. Then again, I was severely underqualified.”

Rue laughed, bubbly and wet, and even in the midst of recounting his worst story, he couldn’t believe how rare and lovely it sounded. I like you when you laugh. I like you when you’re serious. I like you all the damn time.

“Did it get better?”

“Not for years. Before she left for college, it was slammed doors and screaming matches and acting out. In hindsight, I can’t imagine how devastating it must have been, to have a brother who’s fundamentally a stranger tell you what you should do. When she left for college, she was done with me. I was half-convinced I’d never see her again. By then Harkness was doing well and I could afford to send her to school wherever she wanted. You know where she picked?”

“East Coast?”

“Scotland. She went all the way to fucking Scotland, just to get away from me.”

She tried to hide her smile. “I hear it’s very beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was never invited to visit.”

Rue snorted a laugh. He had to force himself to stop staring. “She did come back, though.”

“She did. And she was different. She was an adult, and I didn’t have to be an authority figure anymore. She’d lived abroad for years, and I could trust her to take care of herself.” He massaged the back of his neck. “She used to complain about my despotic tendencies, but I was terrified. She was wild and unpredictable and fragile, and ordering her around was the only thing I could do to keep her out of harm’s way. I began understanding my parents and what they’d gone through with me, except that they were dead and it was too late, and that degree of mindfuckery is just . . .” He shook his head. “She’ll always resent me a little, and maybe I’ll always resent her. But the pain of it has dulled. I truly enjoy watching her doing her shit. She’s way smarter than I was at her age. She’s resilient. She’s determined. She’s kind. And, the whole experience gave me something very important.”

“What?”

“A total lack of interest in having children.”

Rue laughed again, and had he ever yielded more power than right at this moment? Had anything felt better than making her smile when she’d been crying only moments ago? It was fucking intoxicating. Screw science or finance—this could be his craft. He could spend the next few years learning the nooks and crannies of her moods, studying her temperament, cataloging her disposition in all its little idiosyncrasies, and once he’d accrued an adequate body of research, it would be his mission and his pleasure: make Rue Siebert happy.

Way more satisfying than his current job description.

“I didn’t even need to be my brother’s guardian to reach that conclusion,” she murmured.

“Bragging’s not cool, Rue.” He smiled at her amused look, and glanced at the clock hanging on top of a plant rack. It had been twenty minutes. More.

“Thank you. For coming.”

“Thank you for calling me. I’m a simple guy who used to channel his aggression into hockey and now has a boring corporate job. I need to get my kicks somewhere. And . . .” I was thinking about you anyway. I want you to reach out to me when you need something—anything. I want more. If I came clean about that, how would you react?

She nodded like she understood the unsaid. Seemed on the verge of opening up and admitting to something that Eli really, really wanted to hear. Then, at the last moment, defaulted to their usual: she rolled over and wedged herself between his open legs. Her eyelashes were dark half-moons as she glanced down, assessing his body with all the thoroughness of a merciless examiner. Heat surged inside him, the exhilaration and sheer pride that always came from being the object of her attention. Then she took his face in both of her palms and leaned forward.

She tasted like dried tears. Eli deepened the kiss on instinct, but instantly came to his senses. “Rue.” He wrapped his hands around both her wrists. “I didn’t come for this.”