Page 13 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
“We’ll get you home,” I say, turning to Nora. “It’s the least we can do, right?”
Something strange passes in Nora’s gaze, something I can’t quite place.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice almost breathless as Zayne and Abby say their goodbyes. Only when they’ve finished hugging Nora and left do I offer her my hand again.
“You don’t have to take me,” Nora says. “I can call an Uber.”
“Nonsense,” I say as her gaze dips to my hand. I can feel Freddie’s eyes, burning a hole into me. “Now how about that dance, princess?”
4
NORA
I must becrazy or delusional. That’s the only reason I can think of that dancing with Rush, my ex’s hot brother, seems like a good idea.
Well, I’m sure the alcohol is certainly adding to my impulsive decisions. I’ve lost track of how manyHighline HittersI’ve had this evening.
What a rush, indeed…
Not to mention there’s the bitterness of Brett’s fresh breakup and the vindictive, vengeful part of me that wants to stick it to him.
Like dancing with Rush is the equivalent of a sweet revenge.
Yeah, that’s got to be the alcohol.
I really should just tell him no, e polite and respectful, but for some reason, I can’t. Instead, I place my hand in Rush’s, and say, “One dance, then you can take me home.”
Rush gives me a smirk, and the sight makes my insides heat. It’s way sexier than it should be, but that might be the alcohol talking.
Or not.
Russell Sterling is pretty hot even without the drunk goggles, if I’m being honest.
“Russ—” Freddie starts, but Russell doesn’t seem to hear him. Or maybe he doesn’t care, I don’t know. I catch Freddie’s knowing gaze, his warm green eyes fixating on me. On where Russell holds my hand. The sight makes my cheeks heat and I feel warm all over. Freddie is just…being cautious, probably.
A voice of reason.
But right now, the drinks and the feeling of Rush’s warm hand in mine negate all reason. I like it more than I should, because I know Ishouldn’t.
The music pumps over the speakers as Tate McRae croons about having a sports car and doing dirty things in it. Russell sets his hands on my hips, and I nearly jump from the touch. I don’t know what I’m so nervous about. I mean yes—this is my ex’s brother—but we’re just dancing. It’s not like I’m going to bed with the man.
My stomach twists as the sour taste of Brett’s dalliance tries to repeat in my brain.
I shove it away.
Maybe there’s a small part of me that feels vindicated in dancing with Rush. He’s not Brett, but he’s Brett-adjacent. So, in a weird way, it kind of soothes my Sterling desire without acknowledging the truth.
I can pretend he’s the Sterling I want. Pretend that Brett didn’t cheat on me and leave me high and dry like a bad perm.
The words resonate with me for the first time.
He left me.
They feel sharp, yet faded and hazy. Like I understand their meaning, but I can’t quite grasp the feeling they’re supposed to bring.
In many ways, it feels anticlimactic, almost unassuming. There was no fight. No bitter insults or words lobbed at one another. There was no dramatic slamming of the door or screaming curses at the top of my lungs.
There was…nothing.
