Chapter 18

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"That's impossible." I say without missing a beat. "I don't have a brother."

"Well..." she trails off. "I don't know."

I sigh.

"Don't tell anybody about this." I say. "Let him in, take him to the family room, close the doors, and wait until we come down."

"Okay." She says. She turns around, walking out.

I look at Noah.

"This isn't happening." I say.

"We'll get through it. We always do."

I finished washing, and pulled on a black tight tank top, a black lacy pushup bra, and gray sweatpants. My hair is thrown up in a bun.

I go downstairs. Noah follows me.

I open the door to the family room.

Rose is sitting in there on her phone, and the guy is sitting, wringing his hands together.

When I walk in, he stands up.

Rose stands up too.

Noah shuts the door quietly.

I size the guy up.

My eyes land on his face.

His hair is floppy. He's in a muscle shirt, and his muscles are bulging.

I mean...

He's attractive, but Noah's better.

His hair is floppy and he has charming brown eyes.

It clicks.

"Ethan." I say.

He grins.

"Brooke." He opens his arms.

I smile, stepping forward, I hug him.

"Look at you!" I say. "You aren't a scrawny little thing anymore!"

"You grew." He says. "You were like, four feet tall and flat chested." He laughs.

"Noah, this is Ethan." I smile. "And I was not flat chested." I say.

"Yeah you were." He says, stepping forward to shake Noah's hand.

"This is my husband, Noah. Noah, Ethan lived with me at Ms. Guinevere's, and the three foster homes before that. He was the one that taught me to pick locks and hotwire cars."

"Ah." Noah nods, shaking his hand. "It's great to meet you, Ethan."

"Who's this?" he nods at Rose.

"Oh, this is my daughter, Rose."

"You have a kid?" he asks.

"I have five." I say, smiling.

"I'm gonna go." Rose mutters.

"Yeah, I'm going to go get a couple beers." Noah kisses my cheek and walks out.

Ruby

I can't find my phone charger. I know Mom can help me.

"Where's Mom?" I ask Rose.

"Family room." she says, sitting down on the couch.

Brecklyn

Ethan turns to me.

"You're hot." He says.

"Excuse me?" I say. "What did you just-"

He puts his hand on the back of my head, forcing me to kiss him, reaching up, grabbing one of my breasts, inside my tank top and bra, my bare chest. I hear a gasp, the sound of something shattering, footsteps, and the front door slams.

Raising TeensDove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora