I slide back into bed beside him and nestle close to his side.

Grabbing the hem of my shirt, he lifts it off my body, then slides my leggings down my hips, rendering me completely naked—again. He moves us under the covers, our heads resting on separate pillows and facing each other.

Grabbing my hand, he begins to talk.

A gentle knock disrupts my highest scoring game of Angry Birds. I look at the clock and realize I’m about to be late for practice and whoever is outside just saved me from getting my ass chewed out.

Grabbing my gym bag, I open the door wide. There’s a tall blonde standing there staring at me with big honey colored eyes. She looks to be a few years younger than me, maybe nineteen or twenty. She’s stunningly beautiful and I’m sure I’ve never met her before, but she has a familiarity to her features that has me staring rudely at her.

“Hi. I’m looking for Damian Revilino.” Her voice isn’t timid, but it’s soft and I get the impression it took a lot of courage for her to knock on my front door.

“That would be me, but I go by Damian Walker now. How can I help you?”

She gently smiles and her eyes shift to something behind me. I’m sure she’s expecting me to invite her in, but I’m late. Being the oldest of seven siblings, I should probably point out that knocking on a strange man’s door and asking to come inside isn’t the safest idea, but I don’t have time for parental lectures today.

“I’m sorry but I’m running late. Is there something I can help you with?”

She startles and her eyes shift down. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Stepping outside and closing the door I ask, “Well, can you tell me quickly?”

A mocking laugh erupts from her chest and I look at her curiously. “No. You’re probably going to want to be all ears for what I have to say.”

I’ve never been one for drama and the way this chick is shifting from foot to foot tells me she’s not here to deliver good news, but she’s got my curiosity piqued and I decide getting my ass chewed out one more time by my coach won’t be the worst thing in the world.

“You have my complete attention. Shoot.”

Clearing her throat, she rummages in her bag for something. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, her eyes meet mine.

“This is really hard for me to say, so please bear with me.”

She’s killing me. I wish she’d just tell me who the hell she is.

“My name is Megan Jones. Have you ever heard of me before?”

I shake my head. “Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells.”

She scratches the side of her head, her eyes giving me an uncomfortable stare. “I didn’t think it would. I’m not sure how to tell you this –”

“Honestly at this point you need to just say it. You’re kind of freaking me out.”

She nods and her eyes meet mine. “I’m your sister. We’re siblings. Well, technically half siblings.”

“What?” I want to laugh. I have three sisters and this girl is not one of them, doesn’t look anything like them either.

Panic washes over her face. “I know I sound crazy, but we have the same dad. I can prove it to you if you don’t believe me.”

My. Fucking. Dad.

This chick doesn’t need to prove a damn thing to me. Now that she’s pointed it out, the resemblance is all over her face. In her lips, the shape of her eyes, the pointed chin, the dark olive color of her skin.

I stand there taking in all her features, not saying a word. Megan begins to shift from foot to foot and then she looks to her toes and whispers. “This was a bad idea.” Looking back up she says, “I’m sorry I bothered you. I just . . . I needed someone to talk to. My mom died a few months ago and I felt I needed to reach out and . . .”

Shaking myself out of my shocked stance, I smile and pull her into my arms. “Megan Jones. I have three other sisters and I’ve always wanted a fourth. Come in and tell me how you knew about me, yet I know nothing about you.”

She relaxes in my arms and follows me inside.

I get her some coffee and she tells me her life’s story. I stay completely quiet until she’s done, only verifying a few facts here and there.

“So you’ve known about me and my dad your entire life?”

“My mom never kept it a secret who my dad was, but he didn’t want us. When my mom told him she was pregnant, he called her a gold digger. Said it was impossible for him to have children and wouldn’t talk to her again.”

I knew my father had made sure he couldn’t father any more children. He’d always told me that I was enough for him, but clearly, he had his timing wrong as the proof of his offspring is sitting in my living room.

“I don’t want him to know I exist. He can’t know anything about me.”

Slightly confused, I ask, “Why not?”

Her body stiffens and her eyes fill with hate. “He didn’t want me then, I don’t want him taking me in out of pity now. Please promise me you won’t tell him.”

The intense look she’s giving me is slightly scary. “Okay. I promise I won’t tell him.”

“Ever.” She repeats.

I laugh at her childlike need for me to promise this. Placing my hand over my heart, I look her in the eyes. “I promise Megan Jones, I will never my tell father that you existed. You will be my little secret.”

She smiles and her body relaxes in relief.

“I’m glad you found me Megan.”

We spend the next month getting to know each other. She only lives an hour away in Ventura, working as a server in a restaurant. While I had the luxury of living off my dad’s money, Megan and her mom have always struggled. I can’t help but feel slightly guilty that we have led such drastically different lives.

“Can you pick me up from work tonight?” Megan’s soft voice asks over the phone.

“Sure, what time?”

“Two.”

“In the morning?”

She laughs. “Yes, that’s the time the restaurant closes.” Feeling a sense of protection, I agree to meet her and begin to formulate a plan as to how I can get her a better living situation without clueing my family in on her existence.

“I want you to quit your job,” I say when she slides into the passenger seat. “I’ll pay for you to go to college, our dad won’t know anything about you, but my trust fund should be yours as well.”

“Damian—”

“You can give me every excuse in the book, Megan, but my money is your money so start looking at colleges you want to apply to. I don’t want you working until two in the morning.”

“Damian.”

I look over at her, startled by the grave tone in her voice.

“I can’t go to college.”

“You’re smart, Megan. I’ll help you apply, stick by your side every step of the way.”

She doesn’t say anything and I begin to shift lanes wondering why she’s suddenly so quiet.

She begins to cry and I’m trying to figure out what just happened. I offered her a chance at a better life and it broke her down. “Megan, what’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?” I reach over and place a hand on her knee. She takes it and squeezes. “You can tell me, Megan. I am your big brother, you know.”

Wiping at her eyes, she gently chuckles. “Damian,” I quickly look over at her, the panic rising inside my stomach, the acute need to find out what has her so upset. “I can’t go to college because there’s something . . . someone . . .” She’s stuttering, and I take my eyes off the road hoping some sort of eye contact will help her move forward and tell me what she needs to.