“Because I’m concerned,” Brandon said, his jaw tight. “Your brother wouldn't like it. Kyle would lose his mind if he saw you going out like that.”
I watched them from the hallway. To anyone else, it might have sounded like a protective friend looking out for his best friend’s little sister. But I saw the flare of his nostrils, the possessive way his eyes raked over her exposed skin. It wasn't concern. It was jealousy. Pure, green-eyed jealousy. He didn't want other men looking at what he thought belonged to him.
Denise rolled her eyes. “You’re not my boyfriend, Brandon. And you’re not my brother. I’m just living here because Kyle wants me to, so no. You don't get to tell me what to do.”
She grabbed her purse and strutted past him, the heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. The door slammed shut behind her.
Brandon stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, staring at the closed door as if he could burn a hole through it. He was seething.
I cleared my throat.
He jumped, turning to me. For a split second, the rage was still on his face before he smoothed it over with a strained smile.
“Ready, honey?” he asked, though his voice was tight.