Page 21 of Shattered Hate

Bohdi’s voice echoes through the house, calling out for Brayden. Moments later, Brayden appears in the kitchen, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist and a faint pink tint to his cheeks.

“Oh shit,” I mutter to myself, watching as Bohdi hands me a bottle of water from the fridge. He tosses another one to Brayden, who catches it with ease.

“Trayton, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Brayden asks, with concern etched on his face.

“Yeah, I’m good” I reply nonchalantly, taking a sip of my water. “I just wanted to come say hi.”

Brayden’s eyes shift from me to the clock on the wall. “It’s eight-thirty in the morning, Tray?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Sorry, should have called first,” I say awkwardly, glancing between Brayden and Bohdi.

Bohdi rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss Brayden on the head before whispering not-so-subtly, “I’ll be in the bedroom. Don’t take too long.” He places another kiss on the side of Brayden’s neck.

Brayden flushes scarlet as he watches Bohdi. The other man’s fingers trace over Brayden’s cheeks.

“My favorite,” he mumbles under his breath.

“You two are honestly sickening,” I interject playfully.

“Oh, Trayton, don’t act innocent,” Bohdi teases as he heads toward the stairs. “I saw that video of you at that party last week.”

Brayden joins in on the laughter as I roll my eyes. “What can I say? When a guy crawls to you, you don’t say no. Am I right, sir?” I wink at Bohdi, causing him to throw his head back in laughter.

“I sometimes miss you, Trayton,” Bohdi says with a hint of humor in his voice. “Only sometimes, but not right now. So please hurry up with my man so I can have him back, okay?” With that, he disappears upstairs, and Brayden is left standing in front of me, still slightly flushed but also wondering why I’ve shown up so early just to say hi. “All right.” I raise my hand. “I’m going to see the first draft of my tattoo today. They told me to be there at ten, so I’ve been awake since six. Kal was knocked out, and you know how he gets when he’s woken up, even when he’s not being a hormonal bitch. So, I thought I’d come see you and share my excitement with someone.” I plop down on the couch. “Do you have any Pop-Tarts? I need some sugar,” I shout over my shoulder.

“Yes,” Brayden grumbles as he shuffles to the kitchen.

“Don’t be mad at me, Bray, Bray,” I sing. “Bros before hoes!”

“I’m not a hoe,” Bohdi yells from upstairs.

“A hoe for Brayden,” I whisper.

In a few minutes, Brayden comes back, still wearing only a towel and carrying a container.

“I’ll get excited once you’ve seen it,” he says, and I stare at him in shock. “Here’s your Pop-Tart.” He hands me the container. “Take your time walking over there, and enjoy your treat.” He points toward the door like I’m a dog being told to go to his pen with his treat.

“Are you seriously kicking me out right now?” I grudgingly stand up and take the container from his hand. “I need new friends.” I sigh as I make my way to the front door.

“I’ll call you later.” Bray slaps me on the back, pushing me out of the doorway too quickly for my liking. As soon as the door closes behind me, I open the container and grab my Pop-Tart, tossing the trash onto the front porch step. As I walk down the pathway to the street, I hear someone calling my name. I turn around to look at the closed front door, but then I glance up at one of the windows and see Bohdi poking his head out.

“What was that ‘bros before hoes’ thing, Tray?” Bohdi laughs as I raise my hand and flip him off, with my breakfast still hanging out of my mouth.

“Suck it, Stiles,” I mumble around my mouthful.

I did manage to take a relaxed stroll, and I ended up only being ten minutes early, which I consider being politely early, not overly eager. Stepping through the door, my eyes immediatelyland on that damn artwork again, the one that haunts me every time I close my eyes.

With trembling hands, I flash a strained smile at Max behind the counter. My heart is pounding frantically in my chest as I struggle to control my nerves. What if I hate it? Will they have to start all over again, making me wait even longer?

Why did I ever agree to this?

But then my eyes wander over to the art on the wall.

That’s why.

“He’s waiting for you inside,” Max says, a little eager if not a bit cautious. I force a tight-lipped smile and nod before entering through the door behind the counter. As soon as I step inside, my gaze is immediately drawn to the walls adorned with a variety of artwork. I can’t help but scan each piece, hoping to find some guidance or reassurance. Suddenly, a loud cough interrupts my thoughts, and I turn to see a table off to my left. My body tenses up.

It can’t be.

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