Chapter 7
Seven
Max
The evening air is cooler, the light breeze tinged with the scents of salt and sweet jasmine. The large veranda is empty save for me, and the solitude feels nice as I strategize for tomorrow.
I’ll have a private meeting with Barnard along with everyone else, and I need to find a way to make myself stand out. Without asking any questions or breaking any rules.
A sigh slips out of me, and I force myself to focus, mentally detailing a list of my writing accomplishments and accolades. If I keep the conversation focused on me, I should be fine. The only problem is filling an entire thirty minutes without becoming redundant or boring Barnard to death.
It feels like walking a tightrope with no safety net. Normal societal rules about not dominating the conversation with details about yourself don’t apply here. Unless Barnard volunteers some personal information, this meeting will definitely be all about me .
I need to head back to my room and come up with a list of entertaining anecdotes I can pull out if the conversation lags. I turn to go, then freeze when my gaze lands on the man materializing from the shadowed interior of the mansion.
“Sorry,” Flynn says, the word spoken in nearly a whisper. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”
His voice resonates in my chest the way it used to back in college, and I stiffen my spine as anger laces the memories flooding through my mind. The bond we shared, that near-perfect kiss, then the chaos that followed. Milo’s voice rings like a clear bell in my mind, telling me what Flynn said. That kissing me was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. That it would never happen again.
As if I’ve summoned him with my thoughts, my phone chimes in my hand with a text message from my brother.
Milo: Are you and Flynn together? On the same work trip?
Gritting my teeth, I reply with a simple “yes” before looking back at Flynn and saying, “It’s fine. I was just leaving, anyway.”
He doesn’t move or speak as I walk past him. I hold my breath until I’m safely away from Flynn and inside, disgusted with myself for allowing him to affect me so strongly. My phone starts to ring, but the back door is still open, and Flynn is within earshot, so I send Milo’s call to voicemail and shoot off a text that I’ll call him back in a few minutes.
I head upstairs and to my room on quick feet, locking myself inside and double-checking the lock on the connecting door to Flynn’s room. Once I feel secure, I change into my pajamas and wash my face before sitting on the edge of my bed and calling Milo.
“Hey,” I say when he picks up on the first ring. “Sorry, I wanted to get back to my room before we talked.”
“What’s going on over there?” he asks, his voice a little too demanding for my liking. “What kind of job is it, and how in the hell did you and Flynn end up there, together?”
“I can’t really talk about it, Milo. I signed an NDA.”
“That’s what Flynn said when I asked him about the trip,” he says, his voice low and grumpy.
“Then you know it’s true,” I say.
“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he asks, his voice filled with suspicion. “This isn’t some story you and Flynn concocted so you could sneak off together without my knowing?”
Frustration floods my voice as I shoot back. “Paranoid much, Dad ?”
I love my brother. I really do. But his overbearing and protective tendencies annoy the shit out of me sometimes. He’s not my big brother. I’m twelve minutes older than him, for Christ’s sake.
“Harsh, Max. Harsh,” he says quietly.
I heave a sigh. “You know I haven’t seen or spoken to Flynn in five years, Milo. If I wanted to see him, I wouldn’t sneak around. We tell each other everything, right?”
“Right,” he says, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle at the uncertainty in his voice.
“It’s a coincidence, I promise,” I say firmly. “I’ve barely said two words to him since I got on the plane to come here.”
“Okay,” Milo replies, sounding a little more convinced. “That’s good.”
My twintuition goes a little haywire with that, my nerves prickling beneath my skin as a shiver runs down my spine. Milo wasn’t only upset at the thought that I’d lied to him or was sneaking around behind his back with Flynn. There’s something else. I can tell.
He’s lying.
Or if he’s not, it’s a lie by omission.
Something strange is definitely going on here.
“Milo, what––”
“Oh, I gotta go,” he cuts in. “Sorry, sis. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
“Milo.”
“Bye. Love you.”
“Bye,” I say, but I hear the call disconnect before I can get the word out.
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I watch absentmindedly as the screen fades to black. What in the world was that all about?
Could I have been right? Is Milo jealous?
The mere idea of it is ludicrous. Flynn is his best friend. When the shit hit the fan back in college, I took myself out of the equation. It was awful, ostracizing myself when the two of them had been pretty much my whole world.
I could’ve pulled rank. Milo is my twin, and if I’d asked him to cut ties and make Flynn the outcast, he would’ve done it. But I couldn’t do that to him. I love him too much, and he and Flynn always had a sort of bromance for the ages. Milo would’ve been miserable without him.
So, I quietly saw myself out, and Milo split time between Flynn and me like some fucked up parental custody agreement. We never spoke of Flynn, and I can only assume the two of them never spoke of me. It worked for me.
And though it couldn’t have been easy, it seemed to work for Milo, too.
So why is he freaking out now? He knows Flynn and I haven’t spoken in years. To accuse me of sneaking off to…what? Have some kind of secret, torrid affair behind his back?
It’s absolutely ridiculous. And if that’s not the case, then what is really going on in Milo’s head?
I don’t know, and I honestly don’t have the time or the energy to worry about it right now. I have a job to score.
But the second I get home, Milo has some serious explaining to do.