Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 155203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 776(@200wpm)___ 621(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 776(@200wpm)___ 621(@250wpm)___ 517(@300wpm)
The suspicion that tickles at my brain is confirmed when Owen lifts a brow and says, “How long have you been dating my brother?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
RYDER
I want to be her hero
“OWEN MCKAY IS YOUR BROTHER.”
Gigi voices the curt, unhappy words when we drag our worn-out asses into the hotel room around three in the morning. We’re spending the night in her supermodel cousin’s suite. The penthouse, of course.
I’ve been waiting for her to say something, but I’m glad she managed to hold it together until now. After Owen dropped his bomb earlier, I could tell she still had a million questions. But there was no way we could make small talk, let alone engage in deep conversation, amidst the deafening music in a nightclub on New Year’s Eve. I was relieved when she didn’t push, but knew she was only biding her time. She spent the rest of the night shooting uneasy glances between Owen and me.
Well, not the whole night. We also spent a decent amount of time on the dance floor. I didn’t dance so much as let her grind all over me until the clock struck midnight, and then we made out on the dance floor surrounded by supermodels, professional athletes, and a rapper named Vizza.
Wild night.
Afterward, we piled into Alex’s private car, Owen included. He and Alex disappeared into her room, and for a girl who made fun of Gigi for being into hockey players, she sure is screaming one’s name right now.
I close the door, providing a barrier between the sexfest happening on the other end of the suite.
“All right. Let’s have it,” I say with a sigh.
“You lied to me,” she answers flatly.
“I didn’t lie.” I bite my lip, forcing myself not to avoid her increasingly angry eyes. “I told you I knew Owen from Phoenix—I just left out the part that he’s my brother.”
Gigi leans against the door, arms crossed tight to her chest. “You lied by omission.” She shakes her head in disapproval. “I just introduced you to my family, and you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you have a brother?”
My teeth dig deeper into my lip. I force myself to stop, licking away the sting and taking a breath.
“I didn’t intentionally keep it a secret,” I finally tell her. “The first time it came up that I knew Owen, I hadn’t told you about my dad yet, and I wasn’t ready for all that shit to come out. So I played it off like we were just friends from Phoenix. And then later, it sort of slipped my mind.”
“It slipped your mind,” she echoes in disbelief.
“Because it never even came up again. We never talk about Owen,” I point out.
“Yeah, and why is that?”
I sit on the edge of the mattress and run both hands through my hair. “Because I hate talking about my past. You know that.”
“You also said you’d make more of an effort.” She sounds frustrated.
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m not good at this.” I let out a breath, regret flickering through me. “He’s my half brother. We don’t share the same dad.”
Just the same dead mom.
I quickly swallow the lump in my throat.
As if sensing the pain building inside me, Gigi comes over and sits beside me, still clad in the shiny silver dress I couldn’t take my eyes off all night.
“Why were you in foster care?” she asks in confusion. “I mean if you have a half brother. And Owen mentioned his parents more than once tonight. Why didn’t his family take you in?”
A sick feeling crawls through me. “They just didn’t.”
“How much older is he?”
“Two years. He was eight when Mom died. But he wasn’t living with us at that point,” I explain. “Mom and Owen’s dad got divorced when Owen was one. Then she met my dad and got pregnant with me almost right away. Owen lived with us until about a year before she died.”
“Were you close?”
“Best friends. Still are.” I hold up my wrist. “He’s the BFF you like to rag me about. Got these fucking things when we were sixteen, and they still haven’t fallen off.”
She smiles. I can sense her anger melting away. “That’s a good sign, I think.”
“Anyway, when he was seven, his dad remarried. Really nice woman, Sarah. She had her own daughter from a previous marriage. Russ, Owen’s dad, wanted them to be family, so he fought my mom for full custody. Told the courts he could offer a better environment for his son. He had a higher income, lived in a nicer area. Mom couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer to fight him, and eventually she gave in. It wasn’t like he was trying to keep her out of Owen’s life entirely. He just wanted to be Owen’s primary residence. So she agreed, and we got Owen on weekends and holidays. That hurt her a lot, though. She missed him.” My voice thickens. “We both did. He went to live with his dad and stepmom, and I stayed with my parents. And a year later, my dad put a bullet in Mom’s brain.”