Thirst (The Calvettis of New York 1)

Her palm lands on the glass of her window. I follow her lead and plant mine on my window.

With a soft smile, she backs away and moves toward the lamp.

Darkness follows and I know that she’s crawling into her bed.

“I didn’t mean to chase her away.” Luke approaches me from behind. “I would have gone to Nash’s place if I had known.”

I’m always Luke’s first choice when he needs a place to crash for the night or a few days.

Last year he took up residence in the spare room for six months.

I didn’t complain.

I miss having my family here. We used to gather for poker nights to eat pizza. We’d play with nickels and dimes.

My door was always open if anyone needed a place to stop to get a coffee or a word of advice.

So much has changed.

“It’s fine,” I say brusquely, turning to face my younger brother. “What’s going on with you?”

He’s showered since Dexie left. He’s shirtless now too. The tattoos on his chest are an homage to the two most important women in his life. Gaia and Irena.

The ink is his remembrance of them both, even though he was only a few months old when our mother died.

“Work.” He shrugs. “I work too fucking much.”

He’s twenty-nine-years-old and single. Work should consume him. Being a firefighter keeps him out of trouble. He got into his fair share when he was younger, but he’s leveled off. The paycheck that comes with responsibility set him on the right track.

“Forget about me.” He rests his hand on my bare shoulder. “Let’s talk about Dexie.”

I shake my head. “We’re not going there.”

“Why the fuck not?”

I scowl. “She’s fun. We’re having fun, Luke.”

“You don’t have lavender bubble bath fun with women.” His hand dives to the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is different.”

I don’t respond to that. I can’t explain what’s happening between Dexie and I to him because I can’t make sense of it.

“Gina said you’re going to partner with her.” He clears his throat. “She makes designer handbags. That’s right up your alley, isn’t it?”

I laugh at the jab. “Fuck you.”

“You want to make her dreams come true,” he states with a tilt of his chin. “I saw the way she was looking at you. You’re already her hero.”

I feel like I’m racing down a hill at full speed with no brakes.

“We’re done talking about Dexie.” I brush past him. “Did you put the coffee on?”

“No coffee for me.” He shakes his head. “It’ll keep me up all night.”

That’s why I’m craving a cup.

Sleep is my enemy. It brings an arsenal of nightmares with it.

“Have you talked to Pop lately?” I ask because our dad was due back from his honeymoon two days ago. “I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail.”