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)
“Maybe because I shouldn’t have to comb my hair if I don’t want to? Plus, I’d just mess it up when I run my fingers through it. Also, you’re being a dick.”
“I’m not trying to be. You don’t have to get so defensive.”
I sat down on the mattress in my underwear. Jayden moved so he was behind me, with his legs and arms wrapped around me, and asked, “Are you going to sneak off to the attic and leave me by myself tonight?”
“You’d be sleeping.”
“Lane! Oh my God. Your parents will think we’re having problems.”
Huh? “Why would they think that?”
“Because you’re sneaking out of bed at night. Sometimes it feels like you don’t want to sleep with me.”
I didn’t want to make him feel that way and…well, it was kind of frustrating that it did. “That’s who I am. My parents wouldn’t know, but even if they did, they wouldn’t think it meant we were having problems. They would think I’m being me.”
“Your brother would think it meant something is wrong with us.”
I turned, looked at him. “Are you jealous?”
“Ew, no. I’m not jealous of anyone.”
He was fucking jealous. I could see it in his eyes. “He’s my brother, Jayden.” I hadn’t expected his trust issues to be a problem with Isaac. But then, Isaac was so electric, how could anyone not feel the heat of him?
Jayden kissed my neck and pulled away. “I’m going to get some work done.”
“I thought you were tired.”
“Kind of. I just…I’m not really into board games.” Jayden stripped out of his clothes and climbed into bed with his laptop. I lay beside him, on my phone, fingers itching to draw, to paint, feet begging to get out of bed and go upstairs to see if Isaac was there. To ask him if I could draw him so I could get him to talk to me and let me apologize to him again. He’d know I’d want to go up there, and he’d likely be there waiting, bitching that I wanted to use him for my muse, while he let me explain myself. Because no matter how hurt he was, Isaac would sit for me. He always did.
Jayden literally worked for two hours. Then did his nighttime skin-care routine. It was after three when he fell asleep, but I still couldn’t go. He’d be annoyed when he woke, but I was still jittery, bits and pieces of what happened today flooding my mind, trying to form a mosaic in my head. Art was the only way to clear it.
Finally, I let myself sneak out. I shouldn’t have to feel bad about working at night. Our parents’ room was downstairs, so I didn’t worry about them seeing anyway. Isaac always heard when I went past his room to go upstairs, which was right above where he slept. I took the attic stairs, but the lights were off.
Isaac didn’t come up.
I stayed until six, wishing I could draw my brother and tell him how much I missed him, but for the first time, he didn’t come to my studio.
When I woke up in the morning and went downstairs, Dad told me Isaac had some work emergency and had gone back to Atlanta.
CHAPTER SIX
Isaac
I was a coward, and while I was pissed about that fact, it was much safer at home in Atlanta, where my brother wasn’t in the next room, sleeping with his douchebag boyfriend, who unfortunately didn’t choke on a chicken bone. I hadn’t thought of a suitable defense for stabbing him.
So I got on an app and got a blowjob from this guy who loved nothing more than getting on his knees for someone…but it hadn’t helped, goddamn it. Since when did sex not cure my mood?
Every single time it had to do with Lane.
The bastard.
I wished I hated him.
Or that I wasn’t inappropriately in love with him. Either of those options would work, but the second would be much more conducive to the happy family life our parents wanted for us.
I was determined to get back to my normal life. I had no idea how long Lane and fuckface would be in town, so I got back into my routine of work and life.
I went jogging with my friend Hutch. Though he’d only met Lane once, Hutch knew a lot about him. I’d told him some of our stories from childhood when he’d shared some about his sister, Maddy, who’d fought cancer twice. He knew Lane was a painter and how proud I was of him because I really was a kick-ass brother who made sure everyone knew how amazing Lane was. But Hutch, being privy to only those bits and pieces of my life I’d wanted to share, didn’t know I’d pulled away from Lane over the years. Hutch was the same in that respect—I didn’t get the full picture when it came to him.