Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
We all had our secrets.
Hutch and I began to stretch. I toyed with the idea of telling him some about Lane, that he was there with a man and I felt some kind of way about it. But how could I make him understand without telling him I wanted to bone my own brother? He’s not my real brother, he’s not my real brother, he’s not my real brother. I couldn’t say how many times I’d told myself that over the years.
So instead I asked, “What have you been up to today?”
“Not much,” Hutch replied. “You?”
“Same ole, same ole.” But my brother is here, and I’m in love with him, and do you know any way to kill a man and get away with it? Because Jayden is on my list.
Things were really shitty when the one person you’d ever felt comfortable talking to was the one who had you tied in knots.
Lane was the only person I shared with.
Lane could never know this.
So I kept it to myself.
“Yeah, I hear you. Same here. How’s your brother doing?”
Sometimes I truly believed the universe hated me. Because of course Hutch would randomly ask about Lane when I was freaking the fuck out. “Stepbrother,” I found myself replying, which I’d never done before. I didn’t make a point of drawing attention to the fact that we weren’t really related…which might come off as weird, so I added, “Lane’s okay,” before standing. “We gonna jog or what, old man?”
“I’m not much older than you,” Hutch replied. It was the perfect change of subject as we teased each other and went on our run.
When we were done, Hutch invited me over for dinner, but I declined, babbling about going out and getting laid. And I really needed that to start helping in the whole forget-about-Lane department.
I kept myself busy for the rest of the week, trying not to think about Lane and fuckface. Friday night I got a text from one of the guys I hooked up with, but I wasn’t in the mood, which pissed me off even more. Now that I wasn’t having sex because I was such a mopey bastard, I just ended up jacking off, but at least I was having sex with someone, even if it was myself.
My phone rang early Saturday morning. I was awake but still in bed, so I rolled over and plucked it off the nightstand to see Lane’s name and the photo of us together at our high school graduation. We had our arms around each other, wide smiles on our faces, but he was looking toward me, while I eyed the camera.
He looked…happy, like I made him happy, which was the most ridiculous fucking thing in the world. I’d have liked to bleach my brain of all these thoughts, but I couldn’t seem to do it.
When I didn’t answer, he immediately called again. With a sigh, I took the call. “I was sleeping.”
“No you weren’t. You’re pissed at me and being a spoiled brat about it.”
Well, shit. Sometimes it sucked that he knew me better than anyone else. “I’m rubber and you’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”
“Isaac.”
“Lane.”
He was quiet for a moment, so I sat back and waited for him to speak again. “What happened to us? I don’t understand.”
I closed my eyes, my chest tightening, a fist squeezing around my heart. Jesus, everything was so fucked up. If I could just find a way to get over this shit that I shouldn’t feel in the first place… It was torture. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to fall in love, but then, it likely wouldn’t be so bad if I’d fallen for someone else.
“We’re fine,” I finally managed to say. “We’ve grown up, so our relationship has changed, is all. Why are you calling?”
Lane huffed. “Why are you calling? Oh yeah, we’re definitely fine. Jayden and I are heading back to the city tomorrow. I was hoping you’d come this evening and spend some time with me, since you ran off last weekend for whatever reason.”
I rolled my eyes, even though no one was there to see it.
“Stop it,” Lane said.
“Stop what?”
“You’re annoyed and rolling your eyes at me.”
I couldn’t even be mad, because what the fuck? How had he known that? “Yeah, Lane, I know. I’m a dickhead, and I left because I couldn’t get my way, and—”
“Your way with what?” he cut me off.
With you. “Nothing. Can we stop being dramatic now? Yes, I’ll be there tonight to see you and your boyfriend off. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
He didn’t respond, the silence hanging in the air. Lane breathed, then I did, then him again, like a dance where he led and I followed—and I didn’t fucking follow very often, the bastard. But I would for him.