Chapter 19
LINCOLN
At five on the dot, Smith called me. I stared at his name on the caller ID until the very last second, swiping to accept the call because avoiding it would have been worse.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
I leaned my hip against my dresser, holding the phone to my ear.
After spending a lazy morning at Hunter’s, I’d spent the rest of the day at home, cleaning up and unpacking things I’d been ignoring since moving into the smaller studio apartment.
I hated being there, and I hated being alone, but it was something I was going to have to get used to.
I’d texted with Silas on and off throughout the day, and it was messages from him that confirmed Hunter had told Smith about us.
Silas
I knew it.
Marshall just called.
Okay?
Smith had lunch with Hunter today.
I am shocked, Lincoln.
I thought for sure you and Smith were hooking up.
When did you even meet Hunter?
It’s complicated.
But I thought you’d already figured it out.
“What are you up to?” I asked Smith.
“Just got off work.” His frayed nerves were almost louder than his voice. “I wanted to see if you wanted to go pick up a second Cassandra.”
“I’m not sure the point of it.”
“So you’re not alone,” he said softly, trailing off before making a thoughtful sound.
“Hmn?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just realizing what brother I am.”
I forced out a laugh, wondering if it was loud enough to make it around the elephant in the room. “The cryptic one?”
“Do you want to meet me somewhere or do you want me to pick you up?”
“If you want to pick me up, that’s fine,” I said.
“Alright. See you soon.”
We hung up, and I tossed my phone on the bed, wringing my hands together, desperate to know for how long we were going to ignore the fact I was in a relationship with one of his brothers.
The answer was apparently thirty-four minutes, because as soon as I sank down into the plush leather passenger seat of Smith’s Range Rover, he turned to me with as much steel in his eyes as I imagined he could muster.
“So, you and Hunter?” he asked.
“Me and Hunter,” I said. “I…we didn’t want to keep it from you. He wanted to be the one to tell you is all.”
“He’s like Marshall sometimes.”
“Are you mad?”
“If I was mad, do you think I’d be chauffeuring you to the pet store to get a new fish?”
Smith put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. Some EDM bumped through the speakers, too low to hear the melody but loud enough to feel the bass of it. I swallowed hard, wiping my palms on the tops of my jeans.
“I just don’t want it to be weird.”
“If I didn’t think the way you’re affectionate with my other brother’s boyfriend was weird, I don’t think you actually dating another would be.
” Smith threw me a sidelong glance as we cruised through a green light.
“I never had any delusions that you and I were anything besides what we were. It would be weird for you to not date my brother. I mean, if you were interested in him.”
I arched a brow.
“Because that would mean we’d lied to each other about what we are,” he explained, shrugging up one shoulder. “I just want to make sure you’re serious about him.”
Palm trees flew by, and I was very close to telling Smith exactly just how serious I was about his brother, but being in love after a week or two was probably the biggest red flag to ever red flag.
“Your brother is a good man,” I said. “I’ll do right by him. At least, as right as I can.”
That seemed to be satisfactory, judging by the quiet way Smith’s jaw clicked after I finished speaking.
I stared out the window as Smith drove us out of my part of town and into his.
The strip malls were nicer, taller, whiter.
The neon signs were crisp and clean fonts, a sharp contrast from the bright mismatched colors of my neighborhood.
Eventually, we pulled up in front of a nondescript looking pet store, and Smith cut the engine.
“Do you think I’ll have a better chance of keeping a bougie fish alive?” I teased, unbuckling my belt.
“It’s your best shot,” he agreed, reaching over the console and sliding his hand around the back of my neck. His fingers were warm and long, and he hauled me toward the center console, pressing our foreheads together and letting out a long breath.
My first reaction was to tense up, worried that Smith was going to kiss me, which…
would have been fine. It wouldn’t have meant anything, even if that might have been a blurrier line than some of my other ones.
He didn’t kiss me, though. He didn’t hug me either.
He only held me there, our noses brushing together and our breath mingling in the very small space between our mouths.
“Hey,” I whispered, reaching up and covering his hand with mine.
“Hey.”
And still, no movement. I lifted my other hand toward his face, my thumb grazing over his cheek while my fingers stretched around the side of his neck. Smith let out a little moan, leaning into my hand while still keeping our foreheads in close contact together.
“Just another minute,” he murmured.
I exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
“I get it,” he finally said, giving my neck a squeeze before extricating himself from the car. I chuckled, following him out and onto the sidewalk in front of the store.
“Get what?”
“The affection thing.”
Stepping up beside him, I hooked my arm through the crook of his elbow, pulling him toward the door.
“It’s nice to know you’re not alone sometimes,” I said.
He nodded, holding open the door to the pet store for me.
We walked inside and were met with more white, more uniform displays, more minimalism. It looked like the antithesis of a pet store to me. No kibble on the ground, no bright and squeaky pet toys lining racks along the wall.
“This place is very beige,” I said.
“Mostly.”
Smith walked us to the back of the store where the beige finally gave way to a massive wall of colored fish. Some in large aquariums and some in small take-home containers. They were all stacked in the wall like a rainbow mosaic.
“Oh,” I breathed out.
Smith laughed, untangling our arms so I could browse the wall freely.
There were fish in the wall I’d never even heard of and probably could never afford, but mixed in with all of those were the occasional goldfish and the brightly colored bettas.
I walked the wall three times, scanning from top to bottom, middle to bottom, top to middle.
This was my second chance at having a fish, and it was probably also my last chance.
If Cassandra Jr. didn’t make it, I was sure there would be no third attempt.
I needed to pick a fish who would survive the transfer, but I didn’t want to ignore the sad little swimmers either.
“Hey.”
Smith crooked his fingers, calling me over toward the other end of the wall.
He stood in front of a massive aquarium, but immediately I saw the fish he was pointing out for me.
It was a betta, like Cassandra, but their container was twice as big, their tail twice as frilled.
They were a dark reddish orange, and I imagined if a Phoenix were a real animal, it would look a lot like that.
“Good call,” I agreed.
“I’ll go find some help.”
Smith ventured off to find someone who knew how to Jenga the fish out of the wall without collapsing everything, and I took a step closer until I had to tip my chin up to look at the fish. They were perfect.
“You find something you like?” a female employee asked, Smith flanking her on the approach.
I nodded and pointed toward the fiery betta. “This one.”
“A good choice.”
“They’ll make it,” Smith said to me, brow knitting together when the employee threw him a curious look. “His last fish died.”
“On arrival,” I muttered.
The employee looked shocked, adjusting her keys on her arm. “From here?”
“No. From a store by my house.”
She gave me a quick onceover, obviously assessing the differences between me and Smith, correctly judging what part of town I came from.
“Most places neglect their fish,” she said, busying herself with shifting the fish’s container out of the mosaic.
Once the fish was free, I realized there were a series of intricate and thin shelves jutting out from the wall to hold the containers.
The foundation was sturdy, even if it didn’t look that way.
“And you don’t?” I asked.
“No,” she said simply. “We don’t. Do you need a bowl or food?”
“I still have it,” I rasped.
She nodded, carrying my second chance at fish fatherhood toward the register area.
Smith and I followed after her, and I paid her twice as much as I’d paid for Cassandra, accepted her upsell of some treatment for the water, and then Smith and I were on our way.
I held the fish on my lap the whole drive back to my apartment, lifting the container off my lap when Smith took a turn too hard.
I didn’t want the fish jostled or scared.
I wanted them to have their best chance at a life with me.
“Can I come up?” he asked after we parked.
“I’ve been unpacking all day; my apartment is a mess.”
“I don’t mind.”
“It’s small,” I said.
“Okay.”
“I don’t even have a couch right now.”
“I can stand,” Smith said.
I realized there was no getting out of it now. Smith Covington was my friend.
“Okay,” I conceded.
We rode the elevator up to my apartment, and if Smith found my studio lacking in any way, he didn’t say a single thing about it. He walked right to my bed and sat down on the edge of it, leaning back and holding himself up with his arms behind him.
“It’s not that small,” he remarked.
“It’s the size of your brother’s bedroom.”
“They’re all extravagant.”
I set the fish down on my dresser beside the empty bowl.
“And you’re not?” I laughed at him, taking the bowl to the kitchenette. Silas had cleaned the whole thing out for me after Cassandra died, and he’d tucked all the rocks and coral and decorations into individual zipper baggies.