Chapter 8
“Found the trolls behind our ‘fan mail’ yet, Batman? Or is your detective work limited to just following me around and making my life miserable?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I immediately want to bang my head against the nearest wall.
Why am I even talking to him after what happened? It’s the nerves. I always let my tongue run away with me when I’m stressed.
Devlin doesn’t respond. Not a word, not a muscle twitch, nothing. He just stands there, staring at me with those dark, unreadable eyes.
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
“You know what?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend. “I’m heading home, and you do whatever you want. Just don’t walk beside me, got it? I don’t want to see you.”
I turn and start walking, my footsteps loud against the pavement.
Behind me, I hear his footsteps follow.
The entire walk back, Devlin keeps his distance—maybe ten feet behind me, obeying my instruction not to walk beside me. And somehow that makes everything worse. The fact that he’s following my orders, that he’s staying back there in the shadows like some kind of bodyguard I never asked for.
It makes me furious.
Just steps from my front door, I spin on my heel to face him.
“Right, that’s it. Now get lost.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there like a statue.
“So when can I expect you to call my brother?”
Something flickers across his face, but he holds it back and remains silent.
“You know, I have to give you credit,” I continue, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You genuinely impress me, because I didn’t know you could keep your precious opinions to yourself for so long. I had no idea you were capable of staying quiet this long.”
“It’ll be better this way.” His voice is quiet but firm.
A shiver runs through my entire body at the sound.
I watch as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and the movement only emphasizes the power of his muscular legs, the coiled tension in his frame.
“You’ve been fussing about with those animals until late,” he says, and I hate how suddenly mature he sounds. “Go get some rest now.”
“I really have no idea why you hate my animals and the rescue room.” My voice cracks slightly. “Why you can’t stand me—I get that. But not them.”
Devlin is silent, just staring at me in a way that forces me to look away to escape the intensity.
“I’m warning you,” I say, my voice steadier now. “If you mess up the fundraising, not even your best friend—aka my brother—will be able to save you.”
“I don’t hate the rescue room.” The words come slowly, deliberately. “I don’t want to see the fundraisers or anything you do for a completely different reason.”
“What reason?”
Silence again. Out of pure irritation, I take a sharp step toward him.
Devlin jerks like he’s been hit with an electric shock, his whole body going rigid. Then he freezes, falling silent once more.
So he’s not going to answer me?
“You’re still very young and naive,” he finally says.
“Bower, since when did you start acting like some grizzled elder? You’re three years older. That’s it.”
“I grew up in the Foster care.” He gives a short, sharp nod, his eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. “I lived a lifetime before I was even adopted. It was a shitty life, but I had hockey. That’s the only thing that’s still mine.”
I stare at him wide-eyed, unable to hide my reaction.
I had no idea. Sasha never said a word.
But Sasha must have known—Devlin spent almost every holiday at our house, and it had always seemed so strange to me. My head is spinning with all this new information. Some things are just starting to make sense only now.
“Don’t start filling your head with your typical do-gooder ideas, Val,” Devlin says harshly. “I’m still a total bastard anyway. I’m still a bastard at the end of the day. That’s how it’s meant to be, and I’ve accepted it. And your brother… look how well I’ve repaid his friendship.”
“What do you… mean?” I swallow hard.
Devlin moves closer, and my hand reaches out of its own accord, just to touch him. He looks so tense, so brutal at this moment, like he’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
He stares at my raised hand like it’s some strange, alien thing.
“Even you can’t be so naive as not to know what I mean.”
“My brother has nothing to do with this. I am my own person and do as I want.”
I let out a quiet gasp as Devlin deftly and lightning-fast pulls me close with his whole body and presses his forehead against the bridge of my nose, leaning in.
“Forget about being your own person from now on. That part of your life is over,” he rasps.
“I told you yesterday there’s no turning back.
After what you said in that hallway, I’m never letting you go.
I will never leave you alone—ever. Not even your brother will stop me, though God knows I didn’t want it to end like this.
I completely lost control that evening and lashed out at you, and I’m man enough to own that truth.
I’m not letting you go for anything. Remember that, sweetie. “
He nudges me toward my building, his hand a heavy, permanent weight on my shoulder.
“Now, walk to the door. I’m going to watch you close it behind you.
I’ll call you in three minutes—you will pick up and tell me you’re safe.
And then you’re going to save my number.
Because you’ll be calling it a lot from now on. ”
* * *
Three days later, I’m sitting in my room doing homework that I can’t seem to focus on.
My thoughts keep returning to that evening when Devlin called. I did pick up the phone, replied with literally two words—“I’m fine”—and then hung up. After that, Devlin sent me a message asking how I was, and I replied briefly.
And then I spent the entire night trying to get my head around everything I’d heard.
To be honest, even three days later, I still haven’t gotten over it.
I’ve been spending almost all my time studying and looking after the animals, throwing myself into routine to avoid thinking about it. But it doesn’t work. My mind keeps circling back to his words, to the intensity in his voice, to the promise—or threat—he made.
After what you said in that hallway, I’m never letting you go.
I feel a thrill at the memory, followed immediately by fear. Fear of taking his words seriously. Fear of rejection if I let myself believe them. Irritation at his orders, at his presumption that he can just decide these things for me.
And underneath it all, a sense of complete confusion.
I didn’t notice it straight away, but when I thought over all his words, I got hung up on that bit: “After what you said.” What did I say? It must have been in that dark corridor in the sport center, right before I left. What were my exact words?
I have no intention of asking directly. I’m actually afraid of direct contact with Devlin, because I won’t be able to control myself.
And then there’s the foster care revelation. I’m reeling from the fact that Devlin grew up in a world so different from mine. He was adopted so late in life, and he spent his holidays with my family because he clearly had no connection to the people who took him in.
I wonder if my brother’s presence influenced how I perceived Devlin’s attitude all these years. Maybe Devlin was deliberately behaving rudely, keeping distance between us because of Sasha.
But then I stop myself. I don’t actually know how Devlin feels about me, despite what he said, because Devlin is a complicated man. Words are one thing; feelings are another.
But dear God, as soon as I remember how he whispered those words to me, I get goosebumps all over again.
My phone buzzes with a notification, breaking my reverie. It’s an email from the student activities board.
Due to structural concerns in Building C, all organizations currently housed there may need to relocate. We will provide updates as the situation develops.
My stomach drops. The rescue room. They might move the rescue room.
Before I can think better of it, I’m pulling up my contacts and staring at Sasha’s name.
It takes me a long time to work up the courage. My thumb hovers over the call button for what feels like an eternity.
Finally, I press it.
“Valya!” Sasha’s voice is warm, teasing. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You usually text to your old man.”
“Hi, Sash.” I try to sound normal. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. Or suspicious. Which is it?”
“Can’t a guy just call his brother?”
“A normal guy, sure. You? You’re up to something.” He’s laughing now. “What’s going on? Need money? Failing a class? Got a girl pregnant?”
“Sasha!”
“What? I’m just covering all the bases. So which crisis am I helping with today?”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “No crisis. The rescue room might have to move, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Of course you will. You always do.” His voice softens. “You’re the most capable person I know, Val. Even if you don’t see it sometimes.”
We talk for a while longer—about his games, about Mom and Dad, about nothing and everything. And then, after a brief pause in the conversation, I take a deep breath.
“Sash, I need to tell you something.”
“Okay.” His tone shifts, becomes more serious. “What’s up?”
“I’m gay.”
The silence on the other end lasts maybe two seconds, but it feels like an eternity.
Then Sasha laughs—not cruelly, but genuinely, warmly. “Val, I’ve known that since you were about twelve.”
“What? That can’t be true! I couldn’t even figure it out myself for the longest time.”
“Trust me, it was obvious. At least to me.” His voice is full of affection. “You’re my favorite brother, Val. There’s no one closer to me. Of course I understood everything before you did. I have to protect my little brother, don’t I?”
Tears sting my eyes. “I’m your only brother.”
“Which makes you my favorite by default.” He pauses. “Why are you telling me this now, though?”