Read Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) for Free Online Page A

don’t care as I shove the door shut and walk toward the stairs.
    A door slams upstairs.
    I pull my heels off and run up the steps on my tiptoes. The shower is running, and I just know I’m going to find his clothes in a heap in the middle of the bedroom floor.
    I’m right. I sigh and pick them up, even though I know he would have after his shower. I put them into the right sections of the laundry basket then change into ripped jeans and a tank top as he showers, before I sit on the bed and wait for him.
    Fucking hell. Of all the things Gianna could have told me—it had to be that. And of course I had to say it when he was there and my back was turned.
    Fuck my brain-to-mouth filter. And here I thought I’d finally gotten used to using it. Apparently, today, it was on vacation.
    I sit back on the bed, against the headboard, and cross my legs. I tug my pillow from beneath me and hug it into my lap, waiting for him to come out of the shower.
    There’s always something.
    If it isn’t the fear of Nonna on the wedding warpath yet again, it’s something else—a.k.a. this.
    I’m so ready to move somewhere our families can’t find us.
    I love the guy in the bathroom, letting the hot water soothe him, and I just wish we could have it easy. Of course, easy isn’t our style, but that’s only because we’re difficult enough as it is without any inside interference.
    The shower cuts out, and several moments of silence follow it. I lean back right into the headboard and hug one knee to my chest.
    I wish I could ignore the guilt snaking through my veins—although, rationally, I know it’s not my fault. If Gianna had never come into my office, I never would have known, he never would have heard, and we’d probably be going to grab coffee or something right now.
    The bathroom door opens, and he walks out, a dark-blue towel wrapped around his waist. He’s rubbing at his hair with a smaller, white one, and he ignores me as he crosses to the dresser and pulls some underwear out.
    I know him well enough to know that speaking to him first isn’t going to make this situation better. He’s mad, and usually, when he’s this mad, I’ve done something stupid. At least, this time, I know it isn’t actually my fault. So I wait for him to dress in jeans and a well-fitting polo shirt then join me on the bed.
    Drake drops down with a huff, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at his ankles. He rests his head back against the headboard, but since he’s so much taller than I am, his head rests against the wall.
    I turn to face him and run my gaze over his handsome face. His lips are tightly drawn together, and he’s staring blankly ahead. Even through the obvious torment I can see in his eyes, he still looks hot.
    It’s not fair.
    “He’s got cancer?” he finally says after several minutes, his tone rough. He turns his face toward me the tiniest amount, his eyes moving to meet mine.
    “Yeah,” I say softly, looking into his eyes. “Prostate cancer. They think it’s stage three, so pretty bad.”
    He slowly nods before looking away again. “And she couldn’t tell me herself.”
    “She said she called.”
    “She did. Twice. That’s it.”
    Wow. That was evasive, even by Gianna’s standards.
    “I’m sorry,” I tell him.
    “Why? You didn’t hide it. You were arguing the case so you didn’t have to hide it. Which, by the way, is a little surprising given how much you usually hide from me.”
    “That’s slightly offensive.”
    He rolls his head to the side and looks at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, it’s not. It’s true.”
    Well... “I used to hide stuff from you. Not anymore. It’s kinda hard when you live right on top of me. I can’t even hide a chocolate bar without your super-nose sniffing it out.”
    His laugh is halfhearted at best. “When did they find out about the cancer?”
    “Apparently, your dad found out last night and told her this morning, but it’s been a