Page 122 of Silver Sweet

“Wolfgang underscore St. Pierre. With the period.” He comes closer. “What are you doing?”

“Following you.” I find him in two seconds. No photos. No bio. No nothing. “Dude, this is sad. You don’t even have a profile picture.”

“I literally just made it.” His pissy tone actually causes my lips to curl upward.

I smile over at him. “I’m going to be your first follower, right?”

“No, I’m definitely blocking you.” He skims me up-down, then places his helmet on the counter before reaching for my phone.

I pull it backward, and Phoenix plants his hands on either side of me while my back presses into the marbled edge. He’s trapping me against the cabinets. I try to breathe as his chest brushes up against my chest. His knee slightly bends betweenmy legs, and the clean, eucalyptus scent off his neck is fucking dizzying me.

“Just play it,” he prods.

“Fine.” Better to do this with him so I can soften the damage. I play the voice memo, instantly hearing the hurt in my fiery tone. “Fuck you, dude. If this is your petty way of getting back at me because I what…called my longtime hookup who isn’t you? Get over yourself. Fuck off. Fuck you and your brother and your dog—I don’t think you have a dog, but your future dog. Okay, fuck him too.” It ends.

“Fuck my brother?” His brows hike high, but he hasn’t flinched backward. His hands are still gripping the counter centimeters from my waist.

“I would have probably included the whole St. Pierre lineage if you took another twenty minutes to get here.”

“Hmm, well, most of my aunts and uncles are dead.”

“Fuck them in the grave then,” I say quietly.

He has a shadow of a smile, and he shakes his head at me, eyes my mouth, then releases a tight breath before leaning away from my build. “You overreacted.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Overreacting is engrained in my DNA right next to overachieving and overperforming.”

Phoenix smears a hand over rising lips. “You just can’t help yourself, nepo baby. Always find a way to pat yourself on the back.”

The widest grin explodes across my face. It almost hurts.

He shifts his weight uneasily. “What?”

“You called menepo baby,” I point out.

He tilts his head with a hard blink. “Yeah.” He nods roughly. “It’s what I’ve called you since day one.”

“I just thought maybe…” My breath hitches.

Realization washes over him. “Yeah, that hasn’t changed, Tom. Don’t worry.” He averts his gaze, glancing at the floor. “You didn’t call him, by the way. You just texted him.”

Oh.He means RJ. In the voice memo, I said I called my longtime hookup. “Right, yeah, I remember that.” I motion to my head. “Little pieces are coming back to me. I think some of it was part of a dream after I passed out though. We got McDonald’s, and I think you spokeFrench.”

“Not a dream,” Phoenix says.

I fall back into the counter. “Wait…youknowFrench?”

Eliot suddenly emerges into the living room. Eyedrops in hand.

I rotate around to him. “Dude, he knows French,” I tell my brother, as if my drummer isn’t right behind me.

Eliot has better manners and doesn’t ignore his presence. “Eliot Alice Cobalt.” He extends a hand.

“So the full name introduction is a Cobalt thing, not just a Tom thing,” Phoenix says, eyeing me more than him.

“It’s an Eliot and Tom thing,” Eliot says.

Phoenix clasps his hand, reciprocating the cordial shake. “Phoenix Wolfgang St. Pierre.”