I’m drifting back into sleep when I hear the doorbell. I stretch, sleepy, and then the sound of laughter filters down the hallway.

A woman’s laughter.

I wake up in a hurry. It comes again, and the low rumble of Dex’s voice. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s familiar and warm.

I’m suddenly painfully self-conscious: lying here in the bed of a man I barely know.

You know him better than anyone.

No, I correct myself with a pang of insecurity. I don’t. I’ve seen glimpses of his true self, explored his body inch by delicious inch, but it’s barely been three days since I showed up on his doorstep with an aching heart. He has a whole life I’ve never seen, a world that existed long before I arrived in it, and is still out there, waiting for him.

And maybe it just arrived.

The laughter comes again, carefree and teasing. My heart clenches. I know Dex has a reputation, but somehow, I’ve managed to ignore the fact he’s probably had a different woman every night for years. He’s a drop-dead gorgeous man practically radiating sexual energy—and a famous rock star to boot. Of course he’s not living like a monk out here.

Still, the knowledge stings. He told me he hadn’t had any women out at the house, and I believed him too.

Was it all just a line to make me feel special?

My insecurity growing, I scramble out of bed. I shrug off the robe and quickly dress in underwear and my simple summer dress. Vanity forces me to stop, and slick on a coat of mascara and some powder to cover the shadows under my eyes. Then, as ready as I’ll ever be, I slowly make my way down the hallway and into the living area.

I find Dex with his arms around a woman, swinging her off the ground with her body pressed against his bare chest.

Pain slams through my chest.

“Hey.” Dex sees me. He releases the girl, setting her on the ground. It’s even worse: I can see how beautiful she is, with a cascade of dark silky hair and pale, delicate skin. “Alicia, this is my sister, Tegan, back from Paris.”

His sister? Relief crashes over me.

“Hey.” I give her a genuine smile this time.

Now that I’m looking, the resemblance is obvious. Tegan has the same watchful dark eyes as Dex, lined with smudgy blue liner and set in a pale heart-shaped face. She looks young, nineteen or twenty years old, dressed in a black tank top and a vintage-looking skirt, with gladiator sandals and armfuls of chunky silver jewelry.

“It’s great to meet you,” I add.

Tegan’s gaze slides over me, uninterested. She turns back to Dex. “You look disgustingly healthy,” she says, mock-scolding him with another hug. “What have you been doing to yourself? All this healthy country living isn’t right. Next thing, you’ll be eating kale.”

Dex laughs. “Quit it,” he rolls his eyes. “What did you expect, for me to be partying until three a.m. out here? I hate to break it to you, sis, but there’s no place to go.”

“There’s always a party somewhere,” Tegan corrects him. “You’ve just got to know where to look. Ooh, are you making your famous eggs?” She spies the food in the kitchen, and moves closer, putting on a puppy dog expression, practically panting at the dishes. “I’m starving, I drove all morning.”

Dex sighs. “I guess there’s enough for three. I’ll go throw on a shirt. And then you can tell me what you’re doing out here.”

“I’m visiting my beloved big brother!” Tegan beams.

“Uh huh.” Dex smirks. “Sure that’s all.” He heads back towards the bedroom, passing me with a wink. Then we’re left alone.

Tegan fetches down another plate and sets the table with bread and jams. She steals a forkful of eggs from the pan and bustles around the kitchen, ignoring me completely.

I watch, not sure what to say. My reaction to seeing her arms around Dex has spun me off balance. I know that I don’t have any claim to him, but my flash of rejection took me by surprise. Even though it just turned out to be his sister, I can’t deny that I felt fiercely possessive. I got jealous of the girls Hunter dated, sure, but it was a different kind of feeling: a wistful envy that I wasn’t the one in his arms, not this sharp, demanding blade in my stomach. I never felt like he belonged to me, so I couldn’t begrudge him their attentions either.

Dex doesn’t belong to you either. It’s just a week, remember?

I don’t know why, but the reminder makes me ache with sadness. I move forwards to join Tegan. “Here, I’ve got that.” I take the plate from her hands. “You must have had a long trip. Did you fly straight here?”

“I had a couple of connections.” She studies me, her darkly-lined eyes assessing me with open curiosity. I shift, feeling self-conscious under her gaze.

“So…how do you know my brother?” Tegan finally asks.

“We met at a show he did a couple of months ago,” I reply. Tegan rolls her eyes, and I realize that makes me sound like some kind of groupie like those girls we ran into the other day: eagerly waiting by the stage door, wanting to do anything to get past the rope.

“I didn’t know who he was at first,” I add quickly. “What about you?” I change the subject. “How was Paris?”

“It’s great,” Tegan replies, brightening. “There’s so much cool stuff going on. Art, music, culture. It’s so vibrant there, a really big international scene. Have you ever been?”