“You have a sister in Toronto, Wesley?” O’Connor says from underneath the towel he’s using to dry his hair. “Is she hot? Can I have her number?” Wes growls. “Touch Jess and die. You hear me?” O’Connor chuckles, and the sound climbs up my throat like bile. Somehow, fists are clenched at my sides. Jess and I aren’t together, and we never will be, and yet I feel like grinding the newbie into dust just for joking about calling her. Weird. Must be time for dinner.”
