Wicked Grind (Stark World 1)

"I'm recording an audiobook, which is fun. And I get to work from here, which is a plus. And we're going to start recording the tracks for the movie next week. That's going to be a blast. Not lucrative, but you can't have everything."

He's just been cast in an independent film as the adult voice for the kid who stars in the movie. It's not much money, but the exposure should be amazing.

"I did get my signing check," he adds. "That was handy. Paid off my last two therapy bills."

"I hate that you're always working toward a bill," I say. What I don't say is that I wish I could afford to pay for his physical therapy.

He shrugs. "It's the American way."

I scowl. I don't like talking about his scars and the nerve damage and all the medical mess that goes along with it. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make it all go away, but the only wand I have is the clinical protocol, and I just walked away from the money to pay for it.

"By the way, they called me about the first appointment for the Devinger Protocol," he says, referring to the protocol I was just thinking about. "You know you're the best sister ever, right?" My insides tighten up, just like they always do when we talk about his treatments. "Don't say that."

"It's true." He crouches in front of where I'm still sitting, then takes my chin in his hand. He forces me to look him in the eye.

"And you're amazing for getting me enrolled in that program."

I lift a shoulder and twist my head, freeing myself. I've already paid the first five thousand, which pretty much cleaned out my bank account. That was to hold his spot and cover the initial testing and evaluation. The fifteen I'm still trying to gather covers his full enrollment into phase one of the protocol. And, if the results are in line with expectations, he'll be invited into phase two for free, where we could expect even more dramatic improvement.

"I still can't believe you can afford it," he says.

"It's not that expensive," I lie. "The hard part was getting all the paperwork in." That wasn't a lie. It had been a nightmare getting all the signatures I needed so that I could get the records in order to submit the files. "Besides, I told you. I started a savings account for you back when you were twelve." That also isn't a lie. But what he doesn't know is that since I'd been a minor, my dad was on the account. And he cleaned it out without telling me the year I started college.

"Well, I think you're a goddess. A responsible, overly organized--but in a good way--goddess."

"OC Draper," I say, reciting Nia's name for me.

"Give her a hug for me tomorrow."

"Will do." For about five minutes when I was in college, I thought my brother and best friend might actually date. But they defied me by just becoming friends. Which is probably better, as I don't run the risk of weirdness if they were to break up.

Still, it bothers me. Mostly because Griffin never dates. But when I point that out to him, he always points right back at me.

"Different reasons," I always counter.

"Bullshit," he says. "I don't like the way women look at me. You just don't want to be seen. Same issue, different sides. At least you can blame Dad and his fucked up version of morality and Karma or whatever the hell ridiculous philosophy he used to keep you and Mom in line. All I can blame is my mirror and my ego."

And me, I think. You can blame me.

Except he never does.

But I blame myself enough for the both of us.

15

Twelve years ago

Kelsey tapped the eraser of her pencil on the pad of paper by the kitchen phone. She'd scribbled the address down because Wyatt had told her to, but she knew she couldn't go to the party. How could she when her parents had told her she had to watch Griffin?

Which was ridiculous, really, because she'd been watching him since she was eleven and he was nine. Now he was twelve--practically thirteen!--and old enough to watch himself. But she still had to watch him?

It was unfair.

But then again, she was starting to realize how many things about her life were unfair.

"We're going to watch a movie later, right?" Griff shouted as he bounded down the stairs.

"I guess."