Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(87)

Crap.

“Or my sisters.”

Fingers crossed for that option. This wasn’t quite how he wanted to meet Chloe’s mum and dad. Ideally, he’d be, at a bare minimum, clothed for that introduction.

“Chlo!” a cheery voice hollered from the hallway. “It’s us! Hope you’re not dead!”

Everything about Chloe relaxed as she shoved on a pajama top. “Eve,” she said with obvious relief. “And—”

“I know you’re not dead,” called another, eerily similar voice. He realized with a jolt that all three of the sisters sounded almost identical. He’d never noticed before. “I’d feel it if you died, darling. Which means you’re ignoring us, you bitch.”

“Annnnd Dani,” Chloe finished, rolling her eyes. But then she looked a little shamefaced. “Gosh, I was so distracted preparing for our, um, trip, I haven’t texted them in two days. Maybe three.” She frowned, grabbed her glasses from the bedside table, and told him, “I won’t be a moment.” But then she hesitated, turned back to face him, bit her lip. Raising her voice, she called to her sisters, “I’m fine! Just … give me a minute!” And then, to Red, she whispered, “Would you like to come?”

He looked down at himself. “I’m naked.”

“Oh, yes.” She blinked.

“But thanks, love. Really.” He knew what she was doing. The last time she’d tried to ignore his existence in front of a family member, he may have been mildly offended. But this was different. He already knew Chloe would hate to even hint at the fact that she now had a sex life, no matter who it was with.

“All right,” she said softly. “In that case, stay quiet!”

Before he could reply, she hurried out, pulling the door almost shut behind her. Because, he realized with a quiet laugh, his awkward, uptight Button was going to try and keep his presence a secret. Even though his shit was lying all over her flat for anyone to see.

She was adorable.

Shaking his head, he got out of bed and stretched his tired muscles. He was just wondering how to occupy himself in the bedroom of a woman who regularly used phrases like sleep hygiene when a voice drifted in from the hall. Even though it was technically indistinguishable from Chloe’s, he knew it didn’t belong to her. If he had to guess, he’d say it was Dani. “… isn’t a particularly believable explanation, sister mine. I do believe you’re up to something.” She managed to make the phrase as darkly ominous as Professor Snape.

“What could I possibly be up to?” Chloe asked, sounding almost bored, but not quite pulling it off. The fact that she was even trying made a laugh bubble up in his throat.

A third voice piped up. “I really couldn’t say, but I will point out that it’s catatonically impossible to believe—”

“Categorically, darling.”

“—that you went camping alone. Not even because of your fibro; we simply weren’t made for the outdoors. And you don’t look traumatized enough to have spent the night in a tent.”

Chloe replied with a thread of fondness in her voice that wrapped around him like silk. “It was a very, very nice tent. A wonderful tent. I will be leaving a five-star review online.”

Oh, he bet she would.

“Hmmm,” someone murmured—he couldn’t tell who. And then, “Do the tent’s wonderful qualities have anything to do with the massive pair of men’s boots by your front door?”

“Oh, those are—ah—I’m sorry, I don’t see—”

He cracked a grin as Chloe spluttered.

“I knew it!” someone cried. “You—”

“Be quiet! He’ll hear you!”

“He’s here?”

“Shut up!”

The conversation dissolved into a chorus of whisper-shrieks. He tried not to eavesdrop, but the walls were bloody thin, and Chloe’s voice was impossible to ignore. Still, he tried. But then he heard a murmur, sharp with amusement, that shattered all his good intentions.

“Maybe I’ll owe you fifty pounds after all, Evie-bean. Meaningless sex and camping were the two items I didn’t think she’d manage to cross off.”

Red frowned. Meaningless sex? That wasn’t on the list.

Then, slow as the blood draining from his face, he remembered: the list he’d seen was incomplete. But, clearly, Chloe had shown her sisters the real thing.

A strange ringing sound filled his ears. His stomach tightened, as if a pound of lead suddenly lined his gut. Was he—did Chloe—?

No. No. He wasn’t going to assume the worst based on an overheard, throwaway comment. How could he? Chloe wasn’t like that. He loved her. And she might not love him yet, but she couldn’t treat him the way she did—couldn’t be so sweet—if she secretly saw him as …

Nothing. No one. That’s who you are.

Panic crept over Red’s skin, slimy and cold. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, searched for an anchor, and found one: the sticky note he’d left Chloe on Friday morning, now taped to her desk. Taped, like she loved it, like it was there to stay. He focused on that sight as he grabbed his crawling, anxious memories by the throat. He wasn’t nothing, not to Chloe or anyone else who mattered, and definitely not to himself.