Page 54 of Don't Say You're Sorry

PRESENT

“Easton,” someone says urgently, pulling me out of the memories I’ve tried so hard to forget. The good times. Theeasytimes. The fun times. Fuck, we had so much fun. That first night Adam and I spent together was just the beginning. I became obsessed with him after that, and he became…mine. I’d touch him, kiss him, and fuck him every chance I got, and he’d let me because he was just as hungry for me as I was for him. I used to leave marks on his wrists, his hips, his ass, and he’d wear them proudly beneath his clothes, smiling sneakily. He loved it. I thought he lovedme. Until one day he didn’t anymore.

Or so I thought up until last night.

“Easton.” My older stepbrother’s persistent voice grates on my nerves as he gets right in my face, his hands on my shoulders. “What happened?” His eyes are wide with panic. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s fine. He’s at my house,” I mutter, pushing him off me.

Axel blinks at me. “He’s fine?”

I nod. He shakes his head at me in confusion.

Standing outside the front door of his apartment in London, I stare at him, only just realizing he’s not wearing a shirt. He’s wearing black sweats and nothing on his feet, his dark hair sticking up in all directions the same way Adam’s does in the mornings. I must have woken him up. I don’t even remember knocking on the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Looking for you.”

He widens his eyes at me like I’m insane for flying all this way to find him.

I cock my head. “I would have called, but you don’t answer your phone.”

His eyes close briefly, his jaw ticking, his shoulders rolling as if he’s gearing up for a fight.

I’m not going to fight him. I mean, I had every intention of beating his ass when I got on that plane last night, but somewhere along the way, I lost all the fight I had left in me.

Axel eyes me warily as if he’s expecting me to pounce the minute he lets his guard down.

I laugh under my breath. “You can relax, pretty boy. I’m not gonna ruin that face you love so much.”Not today, at least.

He frowns. “Then what do you want?”

Shrugging, I walk past him and let myself into his fancy apartment in Central London. “Nice place,” I say, looking around the large open-plan space.

It’s darker than I imagined. Dark wood floors, black countertops, black cabinets, black light fixtures, black fireplace, black couch, black window frames. So much black. The view through the large windows is sweet though. I bet Adam liked the London Eye view from here.

“Easton.”

“Is black your favorite color or something?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets, my eyes on the city below us. “I expected more from you. Purple. Or turquoise, maybe.”

“The place came fully furnished,” Axel says behind me. “None of this is mine.”

“You’ve been here over three years and you haven’t added one piece of decor?”

“Interior decor isn’t really my thing.”

“What about Adam?”

He shakes his head. My heart clenches in my chest.

“Not even a picture?” I ask.

“In his bedroom, sure. He had those picture frames he’s had forever, but not out here.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Why are we talking about this?”

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