Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(32)

His apartment lights were on. What the hell?

“Lou-is!” The familiar, whiny voice hit him with the impact of a sledgehammer. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. No way could life be this cruel. Roxy was definitely not climbing off him with an alarmed squeak and ducking behind his back. Definitely not. If he just stood here without speaking, the waking nightmare would dissipate and he could go back to kissing Roxy. Please. Please. Please?

In one final attempt to banish the scene in front of him, he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them slowly. Nope, his sister Lena was still there, sitting on his couch.

In full meltdown mode.

Black mascara was caked on her cheeks, dark hair a mess on top of her head. His eyes quickly scanned the room for clues. Shit, she’d found his tequila. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

He turned his head slightly so he could speak to Roxy without taking his eyes off Lena. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

“Who is that?”

The hint of jealousy in her voice surprised him. It shouldn’t, he realized. What conclusions would he jump to if he found a man in her apartment if she was supposed to live alone? It also relieved him a little to know she felt at least some kind of claim on him. Apparently he’d managed to make some kind of progress tonight. “My sisters.”

Her body relaxed slightly against his back. “Sisters . . . plural?”

“Where one goes, the other usually—”

“Lou-is!”

“Follows.”

Celeste stumbled out of his bathroom, lighting a cigarette. “Where were you? We’re starving. The only thing you have in your freezer is microwave lasagna and Kraft singles, you loser.” She fell onto the couch beside Lena, who stared straight at the wall, as if in a trance. “Who’s the girl? I can see you, girl. I hope he took you to dinner, because there is f*ck-all available at this shit show.”

He heard Roxy take a deep breath behind him before she moved to stand at his side. God, he wanted nothing more than to smuggle her out of there and never come back. “Hey, I’m Roxy. We had Italian food, so it’s all good.”

Celeste gestured wildly with her cigarette. “Well, lucky you. I’ll just sit here and die of starvation, everyone! Grab a seat and watch my ribs grow more pronounced.”

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why didn’t you order takeout?”

“Lena threw our cell phones into the toilet.”

“Both of them?”

Lena shot to her feet. “Yeah. Both of them. You want to know why?”

Roxy patted him on the shoulder. “You know what? I think I’m going to go.”

“No.” He moved in front of the door. Awesome. Barring her exit for the third time since they’d met. Fuck it. He’d worry about himself growing increasingly pathetic later. If he let her leave now, he might lose his chance. And God, he wanted her so bad it hurt. “I’ll get rid of them. You’re staying.”

“You know why I threw our cell phones in the toilet, Louis?” Lena’s words slurred behind him. “So my bastard fiancé would stop trying to get in touch with me. A stripper! He had a stripper at his bachelor party.”

He turned to Roxy. “Hey, maybe you should go.”

Louis reached behind her to open the door, but Lena moved in front of him. “Look! I found her shirt under his couch.”

His sister dangled a familiar white T-shirt in front of his face. It smelled like cherry blossoms. A vision flashed in his head of Roxy putting on his button-down shirt over her bra and skirt. No T-shirt. It was definitely hers. Very subtly, he moved in front of a wide-eyed Roxy.

“I knew something was up, so I asked all his dumbass friends.”

Celeste positioned herself just behind Lena. “Dumb. Ass. Friends,” she repeated like some sort of psychotic hype girl.

“Not one will tell me the truth.” Lena pulled an object out of her pocket. A yellow Bic lighter.

And then she set the T-shirt on fire.

“You’ll tell me the truth, won’t you, Louis? You were there.” The flames moved up the T-shirt, turning it to charred, black rags. Lena seemed perfectly content to get burned if it came to that. Might even enjoy it. “I can always count on my brother, can’t I?”

“Can she?” Celeste echoed. “Can she, Louis?”

“Should I make my peace with God?” Roxy whispered behind him.

“Lena, look at me.” Keeping a close eye on the progress of the flames, he put out both of his hands in a calming gesture. “Remember that vacation where you backed Dad’s new Mercedes into the lake?” She nodded, and the knot in his chest eased a little. “Who took the fall for you?”

“You did,” she said grudgingly.

“Who told you when your perm in ninth grade looked like a dead poodle?”

She swiped at the mascara tracks on her cheek. “You did.”

“Right. So you can trust me when I say not one stripper walked through Fletcher’s door that night. Not a single one.” As far as he was concerned, Roxy was an actress. He’d told enough lies for the night. He wouldn’t add another one to the list. Especially when his sister might burn down the apartment if she sensed he wasn’t telling the truth. “Your future husband made it through the night lap dance free. You have my word on that, as your brother.”