JOSH.

Alice didn’t leave right away.

She stood in the hallway staring at me like she’d never seen me before—Louis’s shirt hanging off my shoulders, hickeys dark on my throat, the unmistakable evidence of what we’d done still sticky on my thighs. Her voice, when it finally came, was quiet and lethal.

“Put some real clothes on. We’re talking. Now.”

Louis didn’t intervene. He simply leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with that same calm certainty he’d worn since the club. I found a pair of his sweatpants, pulled them on, and followed my sister into the living room on unsteady legs. Every step reminded me exactly where...