Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Tristan cut the train of thought, furious with himself.
His gaze strayed to the other couch again. Zach and his girlfriend were no longer talking. They both seemed deep in thought.
His eyes lingered on Zach. He licked his lips. They missed Zach’s. The craving was so intense, his mouth almost ached with it. Jesus, what was wrong with him? It was bad enough that he missed the sex; craving Zach’s kisses just made him an idiot. He was done with Zach. He should have never fucked him in the first place. Taken, straight guys had “bad idea” written all over them. It didn’t matter that Zach was still technically in an open relationship; soon he would be just hers.
The diamond on Donna’s finger caught the light. Tristan looked away, curling his own fingers.
“Do you want to leave?” Nick said suddenly. His hand dropped onto Tristan’s shoulder again. “We can do something more interesting.”
Before he could decide what to say, the front door opened again.
“Hey, look at this! Why weren’t we invited to Family Night?”
The newcomers were two guys about Tristan’s age. Tristan recognized the guy who had spoken. It was Zach’s brother, Ryan— the very handsome one, with dark hair and green eyes.
“You mean you?” the other guy said, elbowing him with a grin. “Last time I checked my surname wasn’t Hardaway.”
Grinning back, Ryan pulled him into a headlock. “Aw, come on, Grayson! You know you love being an honorary member of our family.”
Tristan went still. He could barely hear their banter with Nick. He stared at the guy Ryan had called Grayson.
Grayson was a common surname.
It was a very common surname. London was huge.
The odds were ridiculous.
But it was possible.
The guy was the right age—and blond.
When the guy sauntered closer, grinning and trading jokes with the Hardaway brothers, Tristan inhaled shakily. The guy’s eyes were just like his.
“This clumsy git spilled coffee on my laptop, so we wanted to grab my old one until I fix it,” Ryan said.
Nick chuckled. “You two are gayer than me. ‘We,’ huh?”
“What can I say?” Smiling, Ryan slung an arm around Grayson’s shoulders. “He’s mad about me. I feel sorry for him, so I let him tag along.” He grinned at Grayson and gave him a loud, sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Right, Jamie?”
Tristan swallowed, any remaining doubts he’d had now gone. Jamie. James. James Grayson.
His brother.
“Don’t call me that,” James said with a wince before laughing. “If Dad hears you calling me Jamie, he’ll—”
“Give me the glare of doom, I know.” Ryan grinned. “I’m not exactly his Lordship’s favorite person in the world.”
Tristan’s stomach clenched. He stared at them, trying to reconcile this attractive smiling guy with the ugly, whiny boy he remembered him as.
He nearly laughed when he realized why he couldn’t. All those years ago, his childish mind had built up his brother into a little monster James wasn’t. Because it was easier to hate something bad and repulsive. That way, it was easier to pretend Tristan was better.
Well, it was obvious he wasn’t.
As he watched James laugh and joke with the Hardaway brothers, looking so at home, Tristan felt nausea rise up in his throat. He could never be so effortlessly friendly. He could never be so easy-going and good-natured. Ultimately, James seemed to be the guy Tristan pretended to be. There was probably some irony there. Somewhere.
When James said something that made even Zach grin—Zach had never smiled at him like that—Tristan’s stomach twisted into hard, painful knots. A wave of deja vu hit him hard and he was a five-year-old boy again, staring at the closed door that separated him from being the boy he could never be.
Feeling sick, Tristan stood up and muttered, “I have to go.” He didn’t care if the others had heard him—or noticed.
* * *
Zach snapped his eyes to Tristan when he suddenly strode toward the door.
“Hey, where are you going?” Nick said, jumping to his feet and following him. He grabbed Tristan’s shoulder.
Flinching, Tristan glowered at him. “Leave me alone!”
Nick staggered back, shock plain on his face. Of course he was shocked. Nick didn’t know Tristan as Zach knew him. Nick had never seen Tristan throw a temper tantrum.
Except this wasn’t a mere temper tantrum. Tristan’s eyes looked haunted, and for a moment he seemed incredibly fragile before he turned away and stalked out of the house.
A stunned silence descended on the room.
Nick moved to follow Tristan.
“No,” Zach said sharply. “I’ll talk to him.”
Nick glanced at the front door. “But—”
Zach was already moving, ignoring the looks his brothers and Donna were giving him.
Once outside, he strode toward Tristan, who was walking to his car slowly, like an old man. A flash of concern washed over Zach. Had Tristan hurt his groin again?
“Tristan!”
Tristan gave no outward sign that he had heard him.
Frowning, Zach caught up to him and turned him around. He half-expected that Tristan would lash out as he did at Nick, but instead he stared at Zach with the same haunted look in his eyes before saying in a hostile tone, “Why are you here? Did Nick send you to deal with the crazy guy?”