Page 15 of Don't Say You're Sorry
“I never tried to stop you,” he says.
“Why not?”
“What would be the point? You never listen to me when it comes to him. You never have.”
I drop my gaze to my iPad.
He heads for the bar in the room, returning with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
“All right, let’s hear it,” he says, pouring a drink for each of us and handing me one.
“What?”
“Tell me what happened tonight. I won’t judge you.”
I raise a brow. “You sure you wanna hear it?”
“That’s what this is for.” He raises his glass. “Bottoms up, little brother.”
I cringe. “Please don’t ever call me that again.”
He stares at me, his head cocked in confusion, and then it hits him. “Jesus Christ.” He swallows his drink in one go.
I chuckle as he pours another one. “I thought you weren’t going to judge me.”
“I lied.”
CHAPTER 5
EASTON
Easton
It’s Sunday.
Sundays are your favorite.
You’re supposed to be here.
The next morning, I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs dressed in sweats and a hoodie, my hair still mussed from sleep. Or lack thereof. Last night was one of the worst nights I’ve had in a long time. For a while there, I thought I’d finally become numb to it all. Turns out I was kidding myself. One look at the boy who was supposed to be mine, and all the pain I’d been hiding came rushing back, my hand squeezing Frankie’s a little too hard as we danced. As soon as his hazel eyes hit mine, it felt as if it’d been seconds since he broke me, not years.
As I walk into the kitchen, my friends’ conversation fades, and four pairs of eyes drift over to me. Xavi’s helping Nate load the dishwasher, Carter’s doing something on his phone, and Frankie’s sitting at the island, nursing a cup of coffee. They alllook at me expectantly, as if I’m going to…what? Explode? Start crying?
I hit them with a tired grin.
Carter being Carter doesn’t let me off the hook. “Why didn’t you tell me you havetwostepbrothers?” he asks accusingly, sliding his phone into his pocket.
I frown. “What do you know about Axel?”
“He was here last night. Outside, waiting for his brother.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Axel never could keep his nose out of mine and Adam’s business. “Never came up, I guess.”
I pour myself a coffee, and when I turn around, Xavi slides a plate piled with food toward me—pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, French toast. Nate must have gone all out this morning, which is something he usually only does when he can’t sleep. I try not to think about the fact that he might not have done this becausehe’shurting, but because he thinksIam. He knows I love to eat.
Smiling at the happy couple in thanks, I take a seat next to Frankie and dig in, pretending not to notice the way they’re all looking at me as I shovel scrambled eggs into my mouth, all the while thinking,fuck him. Fuck him so fucking hard. He didn’t just mess with my head by coming back, he messed with my vibe. How am I supposed to fake it, to hide the way there’s a big chunk of my heart missing—the piece I thought was still running around somewhere in fucking London until last night—when they’re looking at me like that?
“Easton,” Frankie says quietly, for my ears only.
