Chapter 39
Oliver
It was late when I quietly left Dean’s room.
I hadn’t eaten dinner because I was still spiraling when he came in to tell me it was ready.
I felt like shit about it, like I was ruining his family’s perception of me, but I’d just needed a moment.
He said they understood, and I just hoped that he was right.
I glanced back into the room, making sure he was still asleep.
His arm was stretched out where I’d just been.
More than anything, I wanted to lie down with him again, but my stomach kept growling.
Since he told me he’d wrapped a plate up for me, I decided to eat it before I settled in for the rest of the night.
Using the flashlight on my phone, I navigated through the house.
It was just a tiny hallway, a compact living room, and a galley kitchen.
Dean and Blake’s rooms were barely big enough for a bed and dresser because, apparently, it used to be one bedroom.
His parents ended up adding a wall after Dean was born so they could have three rooms in the house.
Something about that made this whole place feel more homey. It was lived in, with a history that was special to them. Like the writing on my wall behind the dresser, there was memory here. It was real, tangible.
I brushed my hand over the laminate countertop.
It had rough spots and little nicks that felt like they’d been made by knives.
In my head, I saw Dean as a teenager, coming home after football practice to make a sandwich.
He probably neglected to use a cutting board and made some of those marks on the counter.
Maybe he was a little less responsible back then and that was how he’d learned.
After grabbing the plate from the fridge, I started to unwrap the plastic. I gritted my teeth at the sound and turned away from the hall, hoping to make it quieter. When I put a hand on the microwave, I paused.
Too loud.
I grabbed a fork and started eating the food cold. It was still delicious.
A sound from outside made me freeze. I went to the back door that was accessible through the little dining room and peeked out of the blinds. Someone was sitting in a chair on the patio, alone in the dark.
It was a bad idea, but I took a breath, then slid open the door. Blake looked over his shoulder with wide eyes. When he saw me, he turned back around and brought a cigarette to his lips.
With my plate in hand, I took one of the seats at the table. The yard was hardly a blip, just a square brick patio with no grass. It was probably just a few times larger than my balcony.
“Insomniac?” I asked lightly.
He lifted one shoulder as he took a drag. The scent of it made my nose twitch, but I refrained from showing my distaste.
“Dean’s a good cook, huh?” I said.
“He always surprises me.”
The words struck me as a compliment, but his tone left room for debate. Unashamedly, I studied him, too intent on understanding him to care if he hated it.
When he looked at me, his lip curled just a little. “Want one?”
I glanced at the cigarette between his fingers. “Nah, I don’t smoke.”
“That’s good. At least you won’t get Dean hooked on a bad habit.”
I snorted a laugh. “Me? Unless emotionally devastating anime or badass hero arcs are your idea of bad, I’d say he’s just fine. In fact”—I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the table—“he’s probably the bad influence.”
He scoffed. “You act very unassuming, you know.”
“Is that a bad thing? This isn’t my house or my family.”
“Then why are you here?”
He flicked the ash off of his cigarette too aggressively. Watching the ember burn brighter as he smoked it made memories flash behind my eyes. The worst houses I’d stayed in were the ones who smoked. Some of the better ones did too, but those didn’t stick with me the same way.
“I’m here to support Dean,” I replied simply.
“Mmhmm. Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
“What other reason would there be?”
“No idea.”
“You know . . .” I took a bite of the food, chewing slowly just because it made him grind his teeth together. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you. What about that strikes you as untrustworthy?”
“Well, his last girlfriend did cheat on him.”
“And you didn’t know that when you met me.”
“Still relevant.”
“I think it might be just that.” I pointed my fork at him as I spoke. “I’m not a girlfriend. That rubs you the wrong way.”
To my surprise, he barked a laugh. Shaking his head, he finished off his cigarette, then snubbed it on the brick at his feet.
“I assure you, that’s not it.”
“Racist?”
That one made his brows raise. “If I don’t like you, that means I must be a villain, right?” He breathed a more sober laugh. “Nah, man. You don’t get to paint me like that.”
I shrugged. “It’s something. You don’t know this, but I’m good at figuring people out. It’s a consequence of my unsavory upbringing. Bet you’d love to hear all the dirty details.”
He sparked another cigarette, just staring at me silently.
“Fine, then you’re jealous,” I said.
He looked at me with fire burning in his eyes. “Excuse me?”
His reaction made me relax slightly. He hadn’t given any hints that there was something deeper, like my strange brand of treachery.
It was paranoia that made me consider it earlier, but he wasn’t the type to keep that to himself.
He was hot-headed in a way Dean wasn’t. If I pushed his buttons just right, I could get it out of him, but that would require me to put a bigger rift between us. That wasn’t what Dean needed right now.
“Even though you and Dean love each other, there’s something that keeps you at arm’s length,” I explained. “It’s on both sides. He clearly looks up to you, and you would do anything for him. Except fix it.”
“You don’t know a damn thing.” His chair scraped on the brick as he stood up.
“If it’s something else, just say it. Otherwise, stop circling. We can get to know each other. Maybe you’ll find I’m fun to be around.” I smiled a little. “Dean didn’t really like me at first, either.”
“Maybe he’s got a soft spot for strays.”
“Strays,” I repeated on a laugh, though the word tasted bitter on my tongue.
“You’ve been here all of two days and you’re learning everything you can. What could you possibly want from my family? We’ve got nothing.”
My brow furrowed. Massaging my knees, I looked down at my plate. “Why do I have to want something?”
“How would I know?” He took a slow breath. “Look, Dean doesn’t need someone who’s going drag him down.”
“I’m not dragging him anywhere.”
“Dad said he wants to quit football. Is that your idea too?”
“Quit football? No, I—”
“Yeah, you’re one of those guys who wants all of his attention. Everything he has. You couldn’t even let him be with his family without tagging along.”
“That’s . . . not fair.”
I thought back to when I’d told Dean I was coming to New York with him. Had I put him in a corner, given him no good chance to say no? He was protective—too protective, especially when it came to my feelings. If anybody would know, it was his brother.
Shaking my head, I grabbed my plate and stood. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you don’t belong here. Like you said, this isn’t your family.”
“You’re right. Thanks for the reminder.”
Walking past him, I tried to keep my chin high. There was no harm in disengaging, but there was in showing weakness.
It didn’t matter if he disliked me.
At least, that was how I’d feel in any other situation. But he was Dean’s brother. He was an important piece of this puzzle, and without him, there would be a giant hole in it.
After wrapping the plate back up, I set it in the fridge and made my way down the hall. It was dark in the room, but I saw Dean lift his head.
“Hey,” he said groggily. “Where’d you go?”
“Food.”
I crawled into the bed and immediately pressed my face against his chest. His arm came around me, and he stroked my back, up and down. Clinging to his bare skin, I hooked my leg over his, holding on for dear life. If I didn’t let go, he couldn’t slip away from me.
A door closed beside ours, just a little too hard. Dean lifted his head again, but I tugged it back down to the pillow.
“Did something happen?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
There was no point in lying, so I sighed and pulled myself closer to avoid looking at him. “We had a talk.”
“Tell me.”
“I was right. He doesn’t like me.”
“That makes no sense. He just doesn’t know you.”
I shook my head, fighting the burn in my eyes. “He thinks I’m taking advantage of you.”
Dean laughed, like that wasn’t even a possibility. “Taking advantage of me, huh? He’s an idiot. I’ll talk to him.”
“Just leave it. He won’t change his mind.”
“You don’t know that. Blake’s not great at subtlety, but he also sucks at communicating. It was probably a misunderstanding.”
“No.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I . . .”
He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him.
In the dark, I could only see the outline of his features.
Leaning forward, I kissed him firmly, trying to draw some strength from him.
I pushed on his chest until he rolled over, bringing me with him.
Propping myself up, I stared down at him while I traced his lips with my fingers.
“I’m a stray.”
His grip on my thighs tightened. “Is that what he said?”
“It’s really not a big deal. I just didn’t want to hide it from you.” When he continued to stare at me, I smiled, hoping he’d be able to see it. “I’ve had worse things said to me.”
“I don’t care. He doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”
“Let’s just drop it. He’s your brother.”
“And you’re my boyfriend.”
“I am?”
“Yeah, if you want to be.”
Grabbing both sides of his face, I kissed him hard. He chuckled, a sound that came from deep in his chest. Pushing his lips apart, I sought his tongue, moaning into his mouth.
“Scratch that,” he said, his voice deeper than before. “No choice. I’ve already made it for you.”