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“Thanks,” I throw over my shoulder as I climb out of the Uber and make my way into the building.

The security guy looks over with a smile to welcome me, but that smile falters as he registers the look on my face.

“Good evening, Mr. Wentworth,” he says politely.

“It’s Garrett,” I remind him. I hate being called Mr. Wentworth. It reminds me of my dad. Now, don’t get me wrong—I love my dad. He’s awesome. But I’m not a stable man in my fifties. I’m in my twenties, and I’m a fucking mess.

“Of course. I’m sorry, sir.”

I don’t bother saying anything this time. I know he’s just trying to be professional in a way I’m sure many other residents in this building require.

But I’m not them.

I step into the elevator, wondering if I’ll ever find my place in the world.

I might have concluded that LA is my home. But aside from that, I’ve got so much to figure out, it’s almost laughable.

The elevator seems to take longer than ever to get to Sienna’s floor. I’m ready for this day to be over when I finally spill out into the silent hallway.

All I want to do is have a hot shower and crawl into bed, but the second I walk into Sienna’s apartment, it seems my plans are going to have to wait.

“There you are,” my sister squeals as she stands before me with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed as she prepares to rip me a new one.

It’s a look I used to try to provoke out of her when we were kids. Okay, and maybe a few times since we’ve become adults. The need to torment your sibling never really lessens, does it?

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Jeez. Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t aware that you needed to know my every move.”

Her expression hardens, her lips pursing. Behind her, Calvin watches us with an amused smirk.

“I don’t. That’s not…Darcy said you left because you weren’t feeling well. We were expecting to find you here. But we got back almost an hour ago.”

Guilt races through me.

“I’m sorry, I⁠—”

“He was never sick, darlin’,” Calvin says, pushing to his feet and stalking closer. “Look at his neck. I’m pretty sure those red marks aren’t from some highly contagious disease.”

Sienna’s eyes drop before they widen, seeing what she missed when she first accosted me.

“You lied to Darcy so you could hook up with someone else,” she shrieks.

I shrug. What is there to say?

I’m guilty of exactly that, and she knows it.

“A man has needs, darlin’. If he wasn’t interested in getting it from Darce, then he has every right to—ow,” Calvin complains when my sister punches him in the arm.

I highly doubt it actually hurt. My sister is as weak as it comes. I should know; I’ve been on the receiving end of her punches for years.

“What’s wrong with Darcy?” Sienna asks, outraged on his behalf. “I thought the two of you got on well,”

“Yeah, we did. We do. I dunno. I’m just not really feeling it now.”

“But you were dancing and …”

“And what, Sisi? It’s not like we’re dating.”