I froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Riley didn’t flinch. If anything, she looked smug. Like she’d been waiting for me to ask.

“My brother,” she said slowly, her eyes dragging over me. “He has a type. You know that, right?”

I said nothing.

“Same hair,” she continued. “Same eyes. Same body. Always. It’s like he’s trying to find the same girl in a hundred different versions. Except…” She tilted her head. “He never does.”

My jaw clenched. “What’s your point?”

“There’s this girl,” Riley said. “Or there was. I don’t know much—he never talked about her. But he was obsessed. Like, beyond normal. And you?” She looked me up...