7. Vivienne
Vivienne
Yesterday’s events play through my head as I ride the lift down to the lobby and walk out into the sunshine.
Watching Briar climb into Bash’s car made my heart stop beating, just seize up inside my chest like a violin string pulled too tight.
Images of that night—that horrific, terrible night—assaulted me until I was convinced the same thing was going to happen again.
If it hadn’t been for Cassian’s warm reassurance, I would’ve spiraled right then and there.
When I close my eyes, I can still smell the scent of his T-shirt: fabric softener, woodsy cologne, a hint of smoke.
He told me everything would be okay, and I believed him, because when Cass makes a promise, he keeps it.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give my brother a piece of my mind.
Five blocks later, I’m standing on the front stoop of Bash and Cass’s townhouse.
I unlock the front door and step inside.
A lacrosse match is playing on the TV in the living room, and the scent of men’s body wash permeates the space.
At least there aren’t takeout containers and dirty socks scattered across the floor.
“Viv.” Cass bolts up from the couch when I enter. “Bash didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
I set my purse on the table. “That’s because he doesn’t know.” Even if I’d bothered to text him, he wouldn’t have answered. He probably wouldn’t even have seen it.
“Good walk?” Cass asks, leaning against the back of the sofa and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a light gray T-shirt and black gym shorts. A silver cross hangs from a chain around his neck. I avoid looking at his tattoos or the veins bulging just below the surface of his skin.
I brush the hair out my face and glance around for a mirror, even though I know the closest one is in the powder room down the hall. “Is it that obvious?”
“Nah.” He gives me a tiny smile and points to his cheek. “You’re just a little flushed.”
His comment makes the heat in my face deepen. “It’s a little hotter out there than I was expecting,” I say, like an idiot. It’s also a little hotter in here, but I keep that part to myself. “Is Bash upstairs?”
“Yep.”
“Is he alone?”
Cass narrows his eyes. “You think I’d let you go up there if he was with someone?”
“I’ve seen my brother’s penis more times than anyone should have to, so yes, I think you would have.”
He rubs a rough hand over the light stubble shadowing his jaw. “None of those were because of me.”
“I appreciate you protecting the integrity of my eyesight,” I say as I head to the stairs. “But I assure you, it was compromised a long time ago.”
When I get to his room, Bash is reclining on his bed shirtless, playing a video game.
He tosses a glance my way when I walk in, then returns his attention to the TV, where a zombie is mauling people as they scream and attempt to run away.
I pick my way across the debris littering the carpet and grab the remote from his nightstand.
One flick of the power button, and the screen goes black.
“Hey,” he says, straightening. “I was in the middle of that.”
“We need to talk.” I toss the remote onto the bed, then swipe a white tee that looks passably clean off the floor. “And put a shirt on. Just because we shared a womb doesn’t mean I should be subjected to seeing you naked.”
He grins as he pulls it on. “Most women are grateful for this work of art.”
“I’m not most women.” I search for a place to sit, but there are clothes, shoes, and beer bottles everywhere. Giving up, I fold my arms and lean against the wall instead. “God, it looks like the aftermath of a yacht party in here. Don’t you have a housekeeper?”
“She’s coming tomorrow.”
“And you’re going to leave this wreckage for her to deal with?”
“What do you want, Viv?” He folds his hands behind his head.
“We need to talk about last night.” I watch his face carefully for a reaction, but there isn’t even a glimmer of surprise. I can’t tell if he was expecting this or simply doesn’t care.
“You mean the race? I beat that guy by a good three seconds. What is there to talk about?” He reaches for a bag of Skwinkles beside him on the bed. “Unless you’re here to congratulate me.”
“I don’t care if you annihilated his ass. You took Briar with you,” I say, my voice rising.
He stares at me. “And?”
“And that was pretty reckless, don’t you think?”
“She wanted to ride along.” Shrugging, he pops a piece of candy into his mouth.
“You could’ve said no,” I say.
He loosely punches the pillow next to him. “I wanted her there. Is that so bad?”
“Don’t make me say it, Bash.” Sagging against the wall, I scoot down until I’m sitting on the only clear spot on the floor.
His eyes meet mine, and I know he can read my mind.
I glare at him. “What about Ember?”
“This was different. I was driving.”
My blood runs cold, and I take a deep breath to slow my heart rate. Bile churns in my gut at the thought of having to keep him in the dark, but I don’t have a choice. If he knew the truth, it would kill him.
I try a different tactic. “What do you think will happen to Briar if you drag her into this world?”
Bash’s brow furrows as he nibbles on his bottom lip. He evidently hasn’t thought about the risk of Briar being corrupted by greed and overconsumption. “I really like her, Viv.” He sounds five, not twenty-two, and my heart goes butter soft.
“You like a lot of girls,” I say as gently as possible. He puts up a good front, but underneath the charm and rebellion, my brother is as sensitive as fine crystal.
He fiddles with the edge of a pillowcase, running the hem back and forth through his fingers. It takes him a long time to speak. “Briar’s different.”
I want to say I know that, that I took one look at her and could see there was something about this girl that made her unlike all the others he’s wooed and ditched.
She may be different, but how do I tell my twin brother that he isn’t?
That while she may be special, he’s still the same boy he’s always been—the heart-breaker, the home-wrecker, the charming rogue who is as brilliant at getting you into his bed as he is at destroying your heart?
A handful of dates with a good girl aren’t enough to change someone’s whole personality, despite what the romance readers want to believe.
The story is age-old. Briar will fall for Bash—if she hasn’t already—and when he dumps her for the shiny new toy on the shelf, she’ll be completely gutted.
It’ll be right around the time the rest of us have all gotten used to having her around, added her to our contacts, put brunches on the calendar, and placed her birthday gift on hold at Cartier.
As his sister, it’s my God-given responsibility to keep Bash from hurting as many people as possible.
“And how long do you think this one will last?” I ask.
He blows out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know, Viv. Until we get tired of each other, I guess.” He throws the pillow across the room, where it hits the TV and falls onto a pile of laundry.
I sigh. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”