Page 28 of Unbound

“I’m not trying to be difficult.” She picks up half her sandwich and takes a bite without me having to tell her to.

“I don’t think you have to try.” I collect my toast and begin assembling the second sandwich. “I’m pretty sure it’s just who you are.”

This woman is a handful. Probably two of them. Keeping her out of trouble is going to take a hell of a lot of effort, but I think I’m up to the task.

She angles a brow. “Because I do what has to be done?”

“Because you do what has to be done without fully thinking it through.” I finish putting my sandwich together, hack it in half, and take the seat beside her. “What if you hadn’t come here last night? You would’ve been in that room when those men kicked in the door.”

“But I wasn’t. Because I thought it through and figured it was probably best to get the fuck out.” Sybil tears off another bite of her sandwich, digging her teeth into it with abandon. “I also made sure no one followed me here and shut off my cell phone. Just in case they could track it.”

“And is this where you planned to end up when you made yourself an alias and applied to work at McKinley?” I challenge her, fully expecting Sybil to finally understand the point I’m trying to make. That none of this is going the way she thought it would.

Her cheeks pink up the tiniest bit as one shoulder lifts and drops. “Kinda.”

I laugh, the sound louder than I remember it being. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sybil’s blue eyes widen, glued to my face. “Did you just… laugh?”

She’s not the only one surprised. It’s not something I do often, and is usually the result of Birdie or one of the twins being a fucking nightmare my cousins have to deal with. Even then, the volume is significantly lower than what just came out of me.

I don’t know why that would be, and it sits strange under my skin. Like an itch I can’t quite scratch.

Turning back to my sandwich, I fight my standard serious expression back into place. “Don’t get used to it.”

“You never know.” Sybil takes another bite of her sandwich, her eyes locked on my profile. “Babysitting me might be the most hilarious job you’ve ever had.”

“You mispronounced frustrating.” I wolf down my sandwich and carry my plate to the dishwasher, racking it up. “Finish your lunch and drink the rest of your water so you can go upstairs and lie down.”

Sybil rolls her eyes. “Do you really think you can just bark orders at me and I’ll listen?”

“No.” I collect her empty plate, aligning it in front of mine. “I’m pretty fucking confident you’re going to do everything possible to do the exact opposite of what I tell you.”

And I don’t hate the thought. My life has been fucking Groundhog Day for years. I wake up at the same time every morning. Work the same hours. Wear the same clothes. Watch the same shows and sleep in the same bed.

Then I do it all over again.

I don’t know when it stopped being good enough. Can’t pinpoint the minute I decided something had to change. All I know is one day I woke up and realized this isn’t what my mother would’ve wanted for me. I’ve built a business. A house. Bought cars and UTVs. I’ve got all the shit I should ever want.

But the one thing she would’ve cared about is the one I’ve avoided—figuring out how to be happy.

Because it hasn’t felt right to be happy without her.

But now I’ve been alive longer than she was, and what the fuck do I have to show for it? A company? A nice home? Expensive vehicles?

I’m sure my mother would be proud of my material accomplishments, but I don’t think any of it would genuinely matter to her if she knew I sat here alone every night.

“Well I guess you’ve got me all figured out then.” Sybil stands, pushing in her stool and mine. She stretches both arms over her head, yawning loudly. “Maybe I am a little tired after all.” She turns toward the stairs, hips swaying distractingly as she walks away. Without warning, she stops, peering at me over one shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap with me?”

She’s trying to throw me off. Hoping to distract me by putting me on the defensive. Sybil’s expecting me to get flustered over her forwardness. Heidi does it all the time, so it’s a game I know well.

And one that doesn’t phase me in the slightest.

“Positive.” I point to the second floor. “Go.”

Sybil wrinkles her nose at me. “You’re no fun.”

There’s not much a person can say to get under my skin, but that phrase does. Because it’s true. I’m not fun. I don’t know if I’ve ever been fun. I don’t even remember what it was like to be carefree and untainted by what life can dish out.