From Yesterday by Miriam Epstein Read Free Book Online Page A

sorry. I don't let people speak to my sister that way."
    "Okay, Nicole. You're right, I was out of line. Rebecca, I'm very sorry to have made you feel uncomfortable."
    I don't say anything, I just nod my head to acknowledge the apology. I didn't want to come here and I don't want to be in the middle of an argument between them. Nicole picks her purse up off of the coffee table. Turner looks incredulous.
    "What are you doing? I apologized."
    Nicole smiles at him sweetly, grabs my hand, and walks us to the door. "I know. Good job with that. Now I'm going to take my little sister to the dance like I promised her and maybe, if you're lucky, I will call you tomorrow."
    Tuner gets up and is on us instantly. He yanks Nicole's hand out of mine and pulls her to him. "Go back and sit down. I wasn't done talking to you yet." He faces me. "You can go watch TV in my bedroom."
    I watch in stunned silence as Nicole tries to pull out of his grasp, but can't manage to extricate herself from the force of his hold. Turner throws the deadbolt on the front door and pulls her further into the living room. She struggles with him, but he still won't let her go. "Stop it, Turner, you're cutting off the circulation in my arm. Let go of me!"
    "No, I don't think I'm going to do that. Get over here, Rebecca. I'm going to teach you bitches a lesson in how to respect a man and be a good guest."
    I can't move. I don't know what is happening; I don't believe any of this is real. The only thing I can say with certainty right now is that my sister and I are in serious trouble.
    "Paige."
    "Mmmph."
    "Paige, come on."
    A tingling sensation creeps along my arm and I take my hand to slap whatever it is.
    "Hey, that's not nice, Paige."
    Suddenly, I'm aware that I'm not alone in my bedroom. I open my eyes and sit up so quickly that I'm dizzy from the effort.
    "Brady? What are you doing in my bedroom?"
    "We're not in your bedroom, Paige. As far as I know, this is your living room."
    He's right. The heavy drapes are pulled over the windows so it is still dark in here, despite whatever time it is. My eyes are slowly adjusting to the darkness, but I can start to make out the furnishings in my living room. Why am I not in my bed? Wait, why am I in boy shorts and a tank top next to Brady on my couch? I pray that I don't have morning breath.
    "I can see by the freaked out expression on your face that you don't remember falling asleep on the couch a few hours ago. Don't worry, you didn't snore, but you do have a tiny bit of a drooling issue."
    Brady gestures to the corner of his mouth. My hand flies up to my own and I immediately try wiping non-existent saliva away. There's nothing there. The jerk starts laughing hysterically.
    "Ha! I totally had you going. You should have seen your face. I really wish I'd taken a picture of that. Priceless."
    "I'm kind of starting to hate you again, Brady. I really am."
    He reaches over and pats me on the head like a little kid. "Come on, Paige, don't be sensitive. You look adorable in your little pink panties and top. Hot, actually. And remember that I'm here to make sure you don't slip into a coma from your little concussion earlier. I'm the good guy, right?"
    His grin is irresistible, but I still feel like smacking him. "These are boy shorts, Brady, not panties. All women hate that word, by the way. And I do not have a concussion, for the last time. Nor am I sensitive."
    I roll my eyes at him, but I can't resist flashing a small smile to show him I'm not angry. "What time is it?" I ask.
    Brady looks at his phone. "Five thirty. Do you have classes today?"
    "No. Do you?"
    "I have Contemporary Lit at three this afternoon. I teach Spinning again at five. Interested?"
    He looks hopeful and I do want to go. The question is, should I? Is this too much too soon? I have to limit how much of me he can see, and he already sees too much. He's very insightful, which will lead to him asking questions that I'd rather not answer.
    "I'll try to make it, I