Page 4 of Discord
Despite my resentment, I couldn’t help the one recurring thought since moving into the Sinclair home. Reid lived on campus during the school year. Milo was barely in New York. Though their parents moved back from the Grand Cayman a few years ago, their presence was scarce as Tessa alienated herself, and Reese was oblivious. Due to extenuating circumstances, this house was currently at capacity with guests. Otherwise, the place was habitually vacant. Which meant Mia lived alone in this big, empty house. It must be lonely.
Jaci’s head spun three hundred sixty degrees, pointedly tracking the sizeable living room with high ceilings and the floor-to-wall window looking out into the posh Upper West Side neighborhood. “If you consider this confined, I’m curious about your take for large spaces,” she mused, pulling at the ends of her pixie-cut hair.
My retort remained at the tip of my tongue, distracted by a rustling noise from the staircases. I stopped breathing when footsteps descended.
Currently, there were ten people residing in this home. Raven and her parents recently moved back from France, so the Sinclairs invited them to live here temporarily. Milo, Alexa, Jaci, and I worked out of the home office in the attached apartment. As both sets of Sinclair and Beckett parents were absent, and the four of us were assembled in the living room, it could only be…
“Good morning,” Raven chirped as she reached the last stair.
God fucking damnit!
I hated every person in this fuck forsaken house. It took significant effort not to yell at Raven. My disappointment was hardly her fault, but I still faulted her for getting my hopes up.
“Hi, Rave,” I chewed out resentfully. Anger beat down my back, but it tempered upon hearing another noise from the kitchen. There was a distinct thud, audible only to conditioned ears listening for hints. It had to beher,though it was a mystery how Mia made it downstairs without taking the stairs.
I lasted four seconds before starting toward the kitchen, driven by pure instinct. Every fiber of my being screamed this was a terrible decision, but I couldn’t think straight. In fact, I couldn’t think at all.
“Um, hello,” Jaci shouted, holding up a document. “Where are you going? We have to go over this.”
“I need coffee,” I snapped.
Alexa frowned; her mouth hung open. “Surely coffee can wait until we go over one freaking document. It’ll take ten minutes, and I have to turn this in today.”
“Seriously, Brandon. What the hell is going on with you?” Milo chimed in, standing to his full height to presumably greet Raven, who had made her way to the living room.
Love and hate were two sides of the same coin. Milo and Raven’s hatred stemmed from love. Raven’s decision to move to Paris sparked a four-year feud between the love birds. After years of fighting and dragging everyone else in the middle, Milo and Raven were now together.
I smiled because this development was my ammunition against Milo.
“You look beautiful this morning, Rave.” I stepped forward and lifted Raven into a one-arm hug.
Raven laughed at the hollow compliment. She was obtuse and didn’t read into seemingly harmless actions. However, Milo felt differently.
Like clockwork, he was next to her, yanking Raven out of my embrace and standing possessively between us. “Why don’t you get that cup of coffee, Brandon?” he chewed out, barely exercising restraint. “We’ll pick this up later.”
For once, I concurred. “As you wish.”
With a lazy smile, I strolled away.
* * *
Mia
I wheezed, hanging onto the cold, black steel. The cool breeze cut across my cheeks while I climbed down the fire escape of my bedroom window. Something good finally came out of Milo’s paranoia. After watching a documentary on famous fires in New York City, he had a fire escape installed. Climbing wasn’t the ideal start to a day, but it was better than the alternate—taking the stairs and running into Brandon.
Before moving in, Brandon sent me an email with a one-line subject:Break it off.The email detailed Chris’ scholarship to college. I had no idea how Brandon got his hands on it, but I understood the insinuation. If Brandon could get his hands on it, he could also get Chris’ scholarship revoked.
I couldn’t let Chris get caught in the crossfire of Brandon’s newfound insanity. Instead, I met with Chris the very next day and broke things off.
“I’m so sorry,” I had pleaded with Chris, following a generic break-up spiel. “Can we still be friends? Please.” Hope blossomed in my heart that he might consider it.
“Go to hell, Mia,” Chris had replied coldly.
Taken back, I blinked back the tears. “Chris, please—”
He stormed off without a backward glance.
It wasn’t Chris’ ego that took a hit. Chris was in search of normalcy and felt abandoned during an internal struggle. If anyone understood the desperate need for those measures, it was me.
