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)
“Yeah, we were real close when we were growing up.” It was said nonchalantly. No one else would have thought anything about it, not even Mom and Dad, but I knew what he meant. He was putting to words that we weren’t close anymore, and he’d done it because he was pissed.
“Isaac?” I asked, hoping we could talk this out, but I also didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that something was going on. Mom and Dad wouldn’t get it, and Jayden would…hell, I didn’t even know what he would think.
“What’s up, brother?” he asked, pasting a fake smile on his face. He never called me brother. “We should unload your stuff from the car. Do you need help?” He went toward my BMW.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Mom said. “Then we can eat. Dinner is ready. Isaac is going to stay the weekend with us. I’m so happy to have both my boys home, and now Jayden too!” Mom squeezed my arm, so fucking happy, and clueless about the tension between Isaac and me. “Let the boys get the stuff, Jayden. I want to hear all about you. What do you do?”
“I’m an art agent. I’ve been involved in the art community my whole adult life. I’d love to have my own gallery,” Jayden said, looping his arm through Mom’s as they headed for the house. Dad went along with them, leaving Isaac and me by ourselves.
Isaac went straight for the car, tried to open the back door, but it was locked.
“Isaac…”
“Unlock the fucking door, Lane.”
“No. Listen to me.” I went to him, grabbed ahold of his bicep, but he pulled away from me. He stared at me, something in his eyes I couldn’t decipher, but I did know I’d never, in all my life, seen Isaac look at me that way.
He looked down, sighed, took a step back. “You didn’t tell me, Lane. I don’t understand how you couldn’t tell me, unless… You know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t owe me anything. And hey, he’s hot. If you weren’t fucking him, I’d want to. Or maybe that’s his kink. Give me his number when you’re done with him. He might think it’s hot to fuck a set of brothers.” His tone was ice cold, harsh, and…hurt. Goddamn it, I’d really hurt him, and I hated that. There was nothing I hated more.
“I fucked up, Isaac. I’m sorry. It’s not you. There’s no one in the world I trust more than you.” It was true. Even though we weren’t as close as we used to be, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and I was the same for him. But in that moment, I didn’t think he knew that.
“I can’t talk to you about this right now. Just unlock the door so we can get this shit in and you can get back to your boyfriend.”
There was no way I would get anything else out of him. Not when he was in this kind of mood. I clicked the button on my key fob. Without another word, he opened the door, grabbed Jayden’s bags, and went for the house.
I hesitated for a moment, got mine, and did the same.
CHAPTER FOUR
Isaac
I couldn’t slow down my heart rate. It had been a fucking hour since my universe had been rocked, since I went outside and saw that Lane had brought a man home. I couldn’t stop the questions from raining down on my already overactive brain. How long had he known? Why the fuck hadn’t he told me? And…was there some way Lane realized how I felt about him and he hadn’t told me he’s queer because he knew what it would do to me? To know I could have him that way if not for the tiny fact that oh, he was my fucking brother.
But I sure as shit wasn’t going to let on I was hurt, not to Dad and Helena, and really not to fucking Jayden, who was twinky and blond, in great shape, and had lips to die for. God, I fucking hated the prick. Everything about him felt perfect for Lane. He loved art, because of course he did. He talked about paintings and styles and Lane’s shows. Talked about his coloring and emotion and different pieces in ways I could never discuss with him. I just gave him shit for always wanting to draw or paint me.
Did it make me a terrible person that I hoped Jayden choked on a chicken bone while we ate? Because I was dreaming about that very thing. Constantly.
“So, Jason. How long have you and our Lane been together?”
He frowned at me.
Helena reached over and touched my wrist. “It’s Jayden, sweetheart.”
Guilt twisted inside me. Not for the dickhead, but for Helena. She really thought I’d forgotten his name, and if I kept this up, it would bring out a whole bunch of questions I couldn’t answer without hurting her, this woman who’d stepped into my life and loved me like I was her blood. Who’d never made me feel any different or treated me any differently from Lane.