Page 89 of The Bad Brother

I don’t see the man who’s driven me crazy and taken care of me for the last several weeks. I don’t see the man who’s taught me things about myself that I never knew. Showed me that I’m worthy of being loved, just the way I am. The man I’ve fallen in love with, against every ounce of self-preservation and rationality that I possess.

I see Jensen Pryce.

I see Ethan’s brother.

“Did your brother do that?” I ask quietly, not trusting my voice above a whisper and I suddenly understand that I’m hoping he doesn’t know. That he’s somehow as oblivious of the facts as I was. That he didn’t lie to me. Use me to get back at Ethan.

When I ask, his expression shifts from concern to something else and he steps forward, hand raised like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. Keep it from bolting. “Sloane?—”

“No.” Taking a step back, I shake my head, instantly angry because it’s suddenly clear to me that it was stupid to hope. He knows who I am. Who he is tome. “Answer my question—did your brother do that?”

Thatsomethingslowly turns to comprehension because my tone tells him that I know. Somehow, I know. Dropping his hand, Jensen swallows hard like he’s going to be sick. “Yes.”

Nodding, I shove my hands into the pocket of my lab coat. “What’s your last name, Jensen?”

“Barrett.” He says it like it’s the truth. The only truth that matters. “My last name isBarrett.”

“What was it before it was Barrett?”

It’s like I hit him. He stares at me, stunned. Mouth slightly open, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. Trying to find the right thing to say. The right words to make what’s happening okay.

He shouldn’t bother.

I don’t need words. I don’t need an explanation.

The way he’s looking at me is all the answer I need.

“We’re done here.” I give him a nod and my vague doctor smile, using both like a shield to cover up the fact that I’m reeling. Falling apart. “But for the record, it’s notwhoyou are. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me.”

“I tried.” He looks sick. Like he might be dying. “Itriedbut?—”

“Yeah?” I shake my head while I back out the door. “Well, you should’ve tried harder.

“Goddamnit, Sloane.” He reaches up to swipe a hand over his face, so hard it looks painful. “Please, just let me explain. I?—”

“If you don’t leave on your own, I’ll have you escorted off the property by security.” I turn around and walk away before I can fall apart.

FOR A SECOND, I JUST STAND HERE,staring at the empty doorway, at the place Sloane used to be because I don’t know what to do.

I know what Iwantto do.

I want to follow her. Chase her down. Make her look at me. Listen to me. Let me explain what happened. How things spun so out of control so quickly but I don’t. The one thing I know about Sloane for sure is that her entire identity is wrapped up in this job. It’s who she is. The thing about herself she’s most proud of. If I embarrass her here by airing our dirty laundry in public, she’ll never forgive me.

Besides, how the hell am I supposed to explain something I don’t even understand myself. Something I’m still trying to navigate.

Because I can’t do what I want and because I know that she’s serious about calling security on me, I do what Sloane asked me to do and leave.

Because Colt dropped me off and Cade would probably bash my head in if I called him for a ride, I call the only other person I know who will come pick me up, no questions asked. Fifteen minutes after sending out my SOS, River pulls into the emergency room parking lot.

“Cal almost didn’t let me leave,” she says with a tired smile that tells me she’s been up and worried sick since Colt banged on her door and dragged her to his dad’s house at 4AM. She worked last night so, I doubt she even had a chance to go to bed before shit hit the fan. Picking up her cell phone, she shows me the screen. “He made me FaceTime him before I left.”

“Looks like you’ve got a fuckin’ mess on your hands, kid.” Despite his casual tone, I can tell by the way he’s looking at me through River’s cell screen, he’s not happy. Not with the situation and not with me.

“Yes, sir.” I nod, suddenly feeling like I’m sixteen again because Cal Montgomery was there the day my life changed. He was one of the cops who arrested me.

“Whatever you’ve got planned to get back at him—forget it,” he tells me in that sterndon’t fuck with mecop tone he used to scare the shit out of an entire generation of dumb, impulsive teenagers. “You let Colt handle it the right way. And you can tell that other son of mine if you see him that he’s got too much to lose to go fucking it up over some creeker with a death wish.”

I give him another nod. Don’t mention that hisother sonis running around town with a baseball bat, unattended, or that I haven’t seen or heard from him since he left me at the hospital, hours ago. “Yes, sir.”

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