Page 8 of Love Thy Brother
No. “Uh...”
“Leave him alone,” Nash said. “He just puked his guts up.”
Awesome. Was it too much to ask that we spent a few minutes on Nash’s bullshit instead of mine?
For once, apparently not. Cam sent me an exasperated frown, then turned it back on Nash. “You can’t have a relationship with Orla and not fuck her because Rubi isn’t fucking my brother. That’s ridiculous.”
That saying,be careful what you wish for, kicked me in the dick like a motherfucker.I swung my head from Cam to Nash, dread roiling up a storm in my tender belly. “Say what now?”
Nash shrugged, tossing the vape on the table and swiping the blunt from me. “I told you already. It feels wrong—like I’m breaking a pact or some shit.”
“Told me already? When?”
“The other night. When we patched in Locke and Folk.”
“Are you taking the piss? I was bladdered. How do you expect me to remember a deep and meaningful conversation when I woke up the next morning with my pants on my head?”
“It wasn’t a deep and meaningful conversation. You told me to go get laid and I gave you multiple reasons why I wasn’t going to do that. Then you fell off your chair.”
“I rest my case. That’s a car crash. Not youalready tellingme something.”
“I concur.” Cam lit a cigarette. “Tell him again, Nash. Let’s hear this nonsense a third time.”
Real irritation clouded Nash’s usual laid-back exterior. He ran a rough hand through his surfer-blond hair as Decoy entered the bar, changed his mind and left again.
Couldn’t blame him. Somewhere along the line, we’d lost the air of three old friends—threebrothers—chatting over an early morning smoke. The easiness had faded. Even the way we stood, facing each other, frustration rippling off us to a man, had the air of the apocalypse.
Nash eyed me, that horrible, unearned guilt returning to his earnest baby blues. “I love her. You know I do. But every time we’re together and I even contemplate fucking her, I think of all the years I couldn’t. I think ofyou, and how knowing you were suffering along with me got me through.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking about me when you’re banging Orla.”
“I’m not banging her. That’s what I’m telling you—it feels fucked up.”
“Well, it fucking shouldn’t,” I growled. “You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”
“I’vekept her waiting?” Nash glared at me. “Fuck you, Rubes. Don’t put this on me.”
“You’re putting it on me. Letting every messed-up thing ruining my life ruin yours too. And what the hell for? So Orla can hate you as much as River hates me?”
“River doesn’t hate you,” Cam interjected.
“Of course he fucking hates me!” The shout burst free. “It’s all you let us have.”
It was a low blow, and it hit Cam hard. Guilt swallowed him whole. His eyes reddened and he looked as sick as I felt, but Alexei appeared before I could take it all back.
Before I could rip the accountability from my friends and own it, setting them both free while I languished in purgatory where I belonged.
Alexei surveyed the scene, every bit as ghost-like as he always was. “You are talking about River?”
Nash had nothing.
Cam hung his head.
Alexei turned to me, raising his brows in question.
I gave him a nod that he returned.
“A coincidence, maybe.” His silky voice sent conflicting messages to my nervous system. Dude was creepily mellifluous. “But maybe not.” He gestured at us all. “I have something we need to discuss. If you can calm yourselves down, we should meet at the table.”
