"You're never going to believe it." I sipped again and moved my foot, which ticked off NB. "They don't only share an email, but all their socials too." Even Instagram. Who shared an Instagram account?

Broadrick chuckled once and opened the top flap of the box on the couch. "We are never sharing social media accounts."

"Agreed," I said immediately, but as I took another sip of coffee, I thought more on it. What was Broadrick hiding that he didn't want to share social media accounts with me? He didn't even have an Instagram. Did he?

He flipped open the second flap. "You have too many of those strange women on your Facebook account. The notifications never stop."

I smiled. He had a point. "I like to stay in the know." With everybody. It came in handy more than once. Plus, they were my girls, and I loved them.

Broadrick only had like thirty-two Facebook friends anyway. He wouldn't get it.

"What's that?" I pointed to the box as he finished opening it.

He pulled out a big fluffy, soft-as-hell-looking yellow sweatshirt with NAVY written on it. I was definitely stealing that the next time he wasn't looking. "A few things."

"A few things for what?" Why did he need an entire box for a "few things"? He normally just carried shit over in his hands. The man drove a motorcycle, for Pete's sakes.

He reached into the box again and then held up a tube of toothpaste for me to look at. "I hate your toothpaste. It's too chalky and has no flavor."

Those were fighting words. "Yeah, I buy it that way on purpose."

He left the box and carried the toothpaste tube toward the bathroom. So, of course, I sat my laptop on the floor and followed him. "What are you doing with it?"

"Putting it in the bathroom," he said, laying the tube on the counter next to mine.

"You can't be unpacking boxes. I haven't even unpacked all my boxes," I said, skirting a tower of boxes in the bedroom that still had most of my winter clothes in them. You never realized how much crap you had until you had to move it somewhere.

Broadrick sauntered-he sauntered!-right on by me back to his box, where he pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and a long black cord. "You better hurry and get unpacking because my box is done."

I glanced inside the box and found it empty. "You used an entire box for just those things?" What a waste. I could have crammed way more in there. "What's the cord for?"

"My e-reader. You don't have the right charger."

I followed him back into the bedroom where he plugged it in. "Yeah, because I read on my phone, so I don't need multiple chargers." I swear the man might have been mid-twenties, but he acted a full thirty. Soon I'd have to start calling him Old Man.

"What if your stuff doesn't match my stuff?" I asked as he finished plugging in his cord and then folded up the sweatpants and left them on the end of the bed. See! He wasn't even taking care of his stuff. Next he'd be leaving dirty dishes in the sink.

He walked out to the living room to remove the box from the couch, and NB stretched out in the open space. "Von, your stuff doesn't even match your stuff."

I crossed my arms. "I have an eclectic decorating style." Also, I shopped at thrift stores, yard sales, and the favorite auction house that Katy took me to visit once last summer. "One trend can't hold me hostage."

Broadrick lifted NB off the couch and let him get settled in his arms with his head in the crook of his elbow. He scratched behind the dog's ear while NB licked the inside of his elbow. The dog had problems. Thankfully, he was cute.

My phone rang just as I'd been about to launch into the merits of not following decorating trends. I'd have to educate him on my genius later.

"Hey, Mom," I said as soon as I answered. It was always fun to get the first word in with her. It so rarely happened.

"Vonnie, I'm so glad you answered." She came off sounding frantic, which was normal most times. Everything was an emergency to my mother as long as it involved her.

Huh? I always answered her calls. If I didn't, she'd leave me multiple voicemails about the issue and then retell me again when I called her back. Answering her calls ultimately saved me time.

"We're not done discussing this," I whispered to Broadrick as he pulled out a treat for NB from his pants pocket. No wonder that dog liked him more. He cheated by bribing him!

I had to get to the store and buy more bacon treats.

Broadrick wiped his fingers on his pants after NB finished the treat. "We seem done."

My mother continued talking while I'd been finishing my argument with Broadrick, but if I waited long enough, she'd circle back around and I'd put the pieces together enough to figure out what the hell she was upset about now. I gave her a good grunt to make her believe I was listening.

Broadrick carried NB into the kitchen and I followed. He obviously couldn't be trusted. What if he had dog treats hidden in my kitchen? Rather than reveal his super-secret stash of treats, Broadrick filled up the coffeepot with one hand while keeping NB settled against his arm. He used the dog's butt as a prop up to get the pot under the faucet. A weird talent, but slightly impressive.

"Vonnie, you must do this for your sister," my mother said.

I'd learned years ago never to agree to anything. Once she said something similar when I wasn't paying attention and I responded with "of course" and then had to drive Vivi to dance classes for an entire year.

But if I asked her, she might figure out I hadn't listened to a word she'd said in at least three minutes. In my defense, it's not like she'd stopped to take a breath or even used a period.

I had to risk it. "What do you want me to do for Vivi?"

Please, don't say she'd taken up some new sport. I crossed my fingers and leaned against the kitchen island, watching Broadrick maneuver NB in his arms as he made himself coffee. I loved Vivi, but the Vines were not an athletic family.

"You have to prove Allen didn't hurt his baseball coach," she said back to sounding frantic again.

I considered resting my head on the kitchen counter, but I wasn't sure I'd find the strength to lift it again after the call ended. "Oh, that's all you want from me?"

Her disapproving sigh radiated through the phone. "Vonnie, this is serious. This stigma might follow your sister her entire life. A Vines dating a criminal... it's absurd. What will I say at holiday dinners? We don't have criminals in our family."

Yeah, that was the biggest problem. Holiday dinners. Not the fact Allen might end up in jail for the rest of his life.

"I highly doubt this will follow Vivienne past college." My mother worried too much. I got into way more trouble, yet most people only remembered less than fifty percent of it. Vivi didn't murder anyone. That people would remember for the rest of her life.

My mother made a weird chirping noise. "Just because you've thrown away your chances at success doesn't mean you should use it against your sister."

"Wow," I said and then ran out of words. I was amazed I got the wow out before freezing up in speechlessness.

Silence coated the call, and Broadrick watched me like he expected me to scream or cry any second. There's no way he heard what she said, so he had to be reading some serious body language. Probably because people rarely stopped me in my tracks.

No one could hurt you like a mother.

"Vonnie," she said in just a whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just that I'm so upset about this entire situation."

"It is an upsetting time," I deadpanned.

That must have appeased her because she dove right back into a rant. "Allen couldn't do this, Vonnie. He doesn't have the killer instinct. He's too meek. I told Vivi she needed to date someone with a backbone. Allen has no backbone."

"Yes, you need a backbone to be a killer," I said, cutting her off. She didn't notice the heavy sarcasm I slathered on the sentence.

Broadrick lifted an eyebrow and poured his cup of coffee.

"Vonnie Valentina Vines, your sister is not dating a murderer," she said as Broadrick walked by me with his cup and elbow-licking dog. He smirked as he passed.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You never know, Mom. People often do things you don't expect." Like make your dog love them more than you. "Dog stealer," I mouthed to Broadrick as he walked into the living room.

His laughter floated between the rooms.

"He's eaten at my dining room table, Vonnie. I don't feed killers my twice-baked spaghetti. That's reserved for family and trusted friends only."

An exasperated "Mom" came from somewhere on my mother's end of the call.

"Is Vivienne there?" I asked, even though only she could say our mother's name with that much annoyance and get away with it. "Let me talk to her."

"I don't know what good that will do, but fine," she said and then mumbled something before my sister answered.

"Vonnie, you know Allen didn't do it," Vivi sounded as stressed out as our mother.

I couldn't get annoyed with her. She hadn't had as many years to get under my skin. "I know. Everyone knows. The police just asked him questions as part of the routine. I have a question, though."

"Yeah?" she asked and perked up.

I stalled. Crap, I should have thought it through before asking my sister about one of the skeevy personnel at her school. Ugh, too late now. "Did you ever hear any rumors about Coach Torres dating a student?"

Vivi laughed. "No, he barely talked to students. If you weren't one of his players, I don't think he knew your name."

Hmm, one of those staff members. Coach Torres was there when I was in school, but since I'd never had an interest in sports, he'd flown under my radar. I'd definitely remember hearing if he'd been doing something weird with students.

"Wait a second," Vivi said, and I stopped my pacing in front of the couch where Broadrick and NB were snuggling. "There was this one girl."