Chapter 36
brYLEE
"What the hell is wrong with that school of yours?" My brother's face pops up on my phone screen the second I swipe to answer his call.
He's wearing his blond wig with lovely tresses and has pink lipstick inexpertly smeared across his lips. At first glance, he'd definitely be mistaken for me, which is the point, but his expression right now is pure male consternation.
"Um…everything, I think," I reply tentatively. "I'm going to need you to be more specific."
I sit back on Colter's bed, leaning against the metal frame of his headboard because I just woke up.
I glance around and notice that the tent is cleared out. My mates must have figured I'd need the extra sleep after the bus escapade yesterday. That was thoughtful. But I'm surprised that they left me alone…
Oh, nope.
Not alone.
Colter's massive form is visible just outside the tent flap, his silhouette unmistakable. Massive and brooding. Sometimes he casts shadows that make him look like a bodybuilder—a view I very much appreciate, especially when he bends an arm up to adjust his mask and those biceps pop.
I give a little yawn and stretch beneath the covers as I wait for my brother to explain what outrageous thing happened today when he attended one of my Zoom classes.
"That Madame Ellora… She's—"
"One naughty bitch!" Caran flops into the screen as he sits down beside Ted and waggles his fingers at me before checking out how he looks in the self-view screen, tucking his hair back by his ears.
"Good observation. And good outfit," I compliment him, because he's pulling off a linen shirt that leaves little to the imagination, particularly since he's got it so unbuttoned.
But if anyone can pull it off, it's Caran.
He gives me a wink as his arm goes around Teddie's shoulder and starts to toy with one of the strands of wig hair.
My brother doesn't even seem to notice because he’s so focused on me. "Brylee. I nearly vomited. I had to listen to a fifty-year-old woman discuss anal lubrication."
Caran snickers.
So do I.
And then, like balloons filled with confetti, we burst apart into multi-colored flecks of laughter.
My brother yanks the wig off his head, and I notice his hair looks thinner than normal. "Does Mom know this is the kind of stuff they teach?"
Immediately, my gag reflex starts up, and I jut out my tongue. "Ew. I dunno. Don't ask that."
"I had to sit through an old woman coating her finger in lube and shoving it into a thin rubber hose." The narrow tendons in Ted's neck strain.
Were those always visible?
"Brylee." He redirects my attention back to his story as he leans so close to the camera that all I can see are his eyes and nose. "It bulged. I had to watch her finger that hose."
Caran snorts.
My brother's face disappears from the screen, and for a second, all I see is his back, shirt hanging loosely over it.
"And that's not all. She sent you a kit." He pops back into the frame with a dangling yellow tube that looks about as thick as a shoestring and a bottle of lube. "I had to show that I was proficient at that technique."
"You're definitely proficient, babe," Caran purrs.
"Ew. Acid. I need acid for my eardrums!" I chant as I kick my feet against the mattress.
Teddie throws aside the kit and shakes his head as if he's disappointed in me.
"Hey. Woah with the judgment," I retort. "I don't come up with the lesson plans."
He brings up a hand to swipe at his forehead, and his body seems to droop. "No. You're right. I know. I just can't believe…"
Caran grins over at him. "Can't believe omegas would train to please their alphas?"
Ted's forehead sinks onto his hand farther, and he doesn't respond. He simply stays like that, stiff and closed.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as my pulse surges.
Did he just have a heart attack?
What the fuck?
My heart pummels my ribs with bruising pounding.
Caran glances over in concern and uses the hand around Ted's shoulder to tap him. "Hon? Hon?"
Ted blinks, and when he glances back up, all the color is gone from his face. He's pale as paper and looks just as fragile. "I just… I need to run to the restroom. I'll be right back."
He hands the phone off to Caran and disappears from the screen.
I stare at my brother's omega, and he stares back at me.
"He's not going to be right back, is he?" I ask.
Caran swallows hard and glances down at his lap before he shakes his head. "No."
"How bad is it?"
Caran's face falls. His lips press together, and the motion makes my chest grow tight with trepidation.
"What?" I can tell it's not good.
But I need to know just how bad it actually is.
"He has good moments. But they're getting farther and farther apart," Caran finally replies, and the haunted expression on his face rasps me raw.
Pulling the phone closer, suddenly claustrophobic even though I'm inside a massive tent that's the size of most people's living rooms, I try to study every micro-expression on my brother's omega's face. "How bad is he now?"
He shrugs, and his gaze drifts to one side, the motion casual, though I can tell he's falling apart within. For the first time since I joined my men, my pulse stutters.
"I was able to give him a last dose of medicine before the whole safe-house, castle quarantine debacle. But it's run out." He doesn't follow up that statement because we've both seen what it's like when Teddie doesn't get medicine.
My brother is wasting away little by little.
I clear my throat and glance at the tent flap. Colter is still standing just outside. I'm sure he heard me start this conversation and is trying to give me my privacy. But the gaping wound in my chest tempts me to call him in here, to wrap me up in a hug, as if he could staunch my bleeding heart.
I don't think there's any stopping it. Not with what I know. Still, my instinct to nestle into his strength is nearly overpowering.
But I don't say his name.
Not when I have to ask the next delicate question. "Do…do you think you could get more?"
Caran stares morosely back at me for a long moment, and I know his answer before he says it aloud. "No. I had a source. But they're gone."
We stay on the line, staring silently at one another, stewing in mutual grief.
A single teardrop glazes his cheek and sparks my own until we're both quietly crying, chests aching as we try to compress the vicious sobs that want to erupt into tiny droplets—the only release we can get without summoning anyone else.
He doesn't want Ted to hear him.
And I'm not ready for Colter to burst in here.
My brother is dying, and there's nothing we can do.
So Caran and I mourn together in soft, self-contained agony.