Becca
“You’re staring at the ceiling like it personally offended you.”
Jace’s voice comes from the kitchen.
I don’t move from the couch. My legs are tucked under me and his oversized hoodie is basically swallowing my body whole.
“Maybe it did,” I mutter.
He walks in holding two mugs of coffee and gives me that look.
The one that says you’re full of s**t but I’ll let you talk.
He hands me a mug.
“Drink. You look like you’ve been mentally fist-fighting someone all night.”
I take a sip.
Too hot.
“Jesus—”
Jace smirks.
“Patience is a thing, Becca.”
“Yeah well, patience didn’t stop your brother from being a jackass.”
That wipes the smirk right off his face.
The air shifts.
He leans back against the counter, arms crossing slowly.
“So he did something.”
Not a question.
A statem
