Page 80 of My Brother's Best Friends

“I’m not being mean.” Her voice drips sugar. “I thought you knew that the Anderson boys don’t ever settle down with one woman. Oh my god, did you think you were the only one?”

“No, I knew I wasn’t the only one,” I stammer, realizing too late I’ve just confirmed everything. I can’t take it back now. “It’s none of your goddamn business, Melanie!”

“Honey, they’re never exclusive.” She flips open a glossy magazine. “If that’s what you were hoping for. Sweet summer child…”

Does this brand of cruelty run in their family?

Should I be worried about Callie now, too? It doesn’t click, though. I’ve known her for years. I would’ve seen something, I would’ve picked up on the signs. Melanie went from zero to one hundred in less than twenty-four hours.

Still swaddled in the spa’s embroidered white robe, I march straight to the elevator.

By the time the elevator dings on our floor, I remember I left my clothes in the locker room. None of that matters—not here, not now. My heart aches as I step into the common area and find it empty. Yet again, my stomach sinks.

I need this to be a farce. A bald-faced lie.

It can’t be true…

25

MAKAYLA

“Is she insane?” I whisper, slipping into my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

What do I do? I can’t just put everything on the table with Bryan. Not right away, anyway. It’s a delicate topic, and he and Callie are practically inseparable these days. I can’t risk ruining everything over what could be a lie.

But if it’s the truth… Or even if it’s only half-true…

“Oh, God.” My stomach lurches. I gag, then draw a steadying breath.

Glancing at the suitcase I left in the corner, I realize I never bothered to put it away.

That makes packing all too easy.

“Prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” I mutter, hefting the case onto the bed. I rifle through its contents, refolding clothes before tucking them back inside.

My heart aches as I gather my toiletries, toss them on top, and zip the suitcase with a shuddering sigh. It feels wrong to sneakoff without confronting anyone. But what else am I supposed to do?

I can’t stay here if what Melanie says is true. If they’re taking advantage of me and leading me on, my options are limited. I’m just about to grab my ski suit when the door to the outer suite slams open.

My breath catches.

I reach for the doorknob, but the raised voices outside stop me cold. They’re arguing. All I can do is listen.

“At least Bryan is looped in,” Alex says. “As much as we could, anyway. If Melanie does open her mouth about it, he won’t be shocked.”

I clap a hand over my mouth. Unsure of the context, I fight to keep a clear head, but Melanie’s venomous warning echoes. I picture her tossing that glossy hair, surrounded by men I thought knew better.

“We have to find Makayla,” Oscar says. “We have to get in front of this, explain our perspective before Melanie gives hers.”

Their talk of perspective sounds like spin—an attempt to bend the truth. Tears sting the backs of my eyes. The truth seems obvious. I must not be enough for them; they went behind my back the instant I left the room.

This was too good to be true. I should have known. Of course there’s a reason the Anderson triplets are still single.

I take a step back from the door, my heart racing. I was so sure Melanie was full of shit, yet now it feels as though she’s been telling the truth all along.

“Oh, God,” I whisper. I try not to eavesdrop, but their voices are too loud to ignore. They’re obviously upset, yet from what I can tell, they’re more worried about staying ahead of the crisis.

“She could ruin all of us,” Oscar says. “We can’t let that sociopath win.” He pauses, then exhales sharply. “Maybe Makayla is finished with her massage by now.”

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