Page 48 of Absinthe Dreams
"You're fucking my sister," Wyatt says, his tone hard. Flat. He's mad as hell. "In my house."
"It's not like that, man," Trystan says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Let's go into the living room and talk about this."
"I always fucking knew you had a thing for her," Wyatt growls, ignoring every attempt Trystan makes to diffuse the situation. "I guess I'm a fucking idiot for believing you every time you said there was nothing going on with the two of you."
"There wasn't," Trystan says. "This is new."
"Right." My brother turns his dark scowl on me. And he looks so much like our dad that I shrink a little. "You weren't even going to tell me?"
"I…" I lick my lips, not sure what to say. I see the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal, and I feel about two inches small. "We were," I whisper. "Eventually. But it's new, Wyatt. This just happened."
"Do not tell me that his dick just accidentally fell into your mouth," he grits out. "Or that the two of you accidentally fell into bed together. I know you, Clo. You're a shit liar. How long have you been fucking behind everyone's backs?"
"It's not like that," Trystan growls, his patience wearing thin. "And stop talking about her like she's some goddamn conquest or something. Youknowthis isn't that."
"Yeah? Then what is it?"
"I'm in love with her," Trystan snaps to my brother. "I've been in love with her for as long as I can fucking remember. Jesus, man. Did you ever stop to wonder why I've never been with anyone? Never dated? Never even looked at another woman? It's because ofher. Because she's always been the only thing I wanted."
My heart is in my throat, and somehow still pounding wildly. He loves me the same way I love him. That's what I should be focused on right now, on how good it feels to hear those words. But I can't focus on them because he didn't say them to me. He said them to my brother.
The first time I heard them, he was growling them at my asshole of a brother. Maybe that shouldn't sting, but it does anyway.
I roll from the bed with the sheet wrapped around me, and stoop to grab a T-shirt and a pair of sweats from the floor. Trystan steps in front of me like he's trying to protect my modesty, but I think that's probably already a lost cause.
"You're an asshole," I snap at Wyatt when I finally turn to face him. "I've waited my whole life to hear him tell me that he loves me. Instead, the first time I get to hear it is right here, when he's trying to justify our relationship to you because you're acting like an asshole. Well, guess what? I make my own damn decisions about who I want to be with, not you!"
"Shit," Wyatt growls, his face falling slightly. He takes a step toward me, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Clo, I'm–"
"Save it," I sniff, stomping past him out into the hall. "If you two want to fight it out, I'm not going to stop you. But I'm not going to stand here and watch you do it, either. I made my choice. I made it a long damn time ago. The least you can do is love me enough to let me."
"Fuck," my brother growls as I stomp across the hallway to the bathroom.
I'm shaking when the door slams behind me. Part of me wants to cry. Another part wants to rush back in there and raise hell. But I promised Trystan that I'd let him worry about Wyatt, and I'm going to keep that promise now. I can't make my brother accept us. I can't go back and undo the morning, so he doesn't walk in and see me with his best friend's dick down my throat. But I won't let him turn us into something that needs defending and justifying, either.
That isn't fair to either of us.
We're adults, making the best choice we can in a situation that has always felt impossible and overwhelming. I've spent a lifetime trying to convince myself that I'd be okay without Trystan. I think he's spent just as long doing the same. But itisn'tokay. We spent so much time fighting what we felt for the sake of everyone else we love. We hurt each other. We hurt ourselves. I'm not doing that anymore.
For once, I want us to come first. Wyatt doesn't have to understand that. He doesn't even have to agree. But I won't allow him to interfere. At the end of the day, it's simple. What we decide has nothing to do with Wyatt or our families. It never has; we just convinced ourselves it did because that was easier than facing why we really fought each other so hard.
I quickly throw on my clothes and brush my teeth before battling my hair back into a ponytail. My eyes are a little wild and watery. But I don't cry. And I feel a little calmer when I step out into the hall.
I hear Trystan and Wyatt murmuring back and forth in the bedroom, but Thanos is stationed by the bathroom door like he wants nothing to do with that shitshow.
"Come on, big guy," I say with a sigh, leading him to the kitchen. We stop long enough for me to slip my feet into shoes and to clip his leash onto his collar, and then escape outside.
By the time we get through the front gate, Tom is already waiting for us, his fluffy little nose poking through the bars as he dances from paw to paw. I stop to pet him, just like always. Thanos tries to keep his distance, also like always.
It's a glaringly mundane moment in a day that feels anything but ordinary.
After a few minutes, I rise to my feet, ready to make the trek to the park. But I don't even manage to move before Tom focuses on something behind me. I don't have to turn around to know Wyatt is standing there. I feel him like a brick wall blocking the sun.
"I'm an asshole," he says, his voice softer than it was inside.
"Is this supposed to be breaking news?"
"Clo, don't be like that. I'm trying to apologize. I walked in on you with his… Jesus Christ," he grunts like he can't even say it. "How did you expect me to react?"
