Three
Theo
“ Y ou and Isla are dating? Dating ?” The word is acid on my tongue. “What the hell, Ash?”
“No matter how many times you ask, no matter how you phrase it, the answer is still the same. Yes, we’re dating. Yes, we’re head-over-heels in love.” My brother laughs, steam puffing out of his mouth and dissipating into the freezing night air. “It’s a fairy tale.”
“It’s bullshit.” I choke the life out of the handle of my axe and swing, splitting a log cleanly in half. The loud crack is barely audible over the rush of blood in my ears.
He’s always believed in magic. I believe in facts. And reality.
Both make one thing very clear: they’re a terrible match.
Asher’s amused blue gaze narrows. “You wouldn’t be sulking if you were in my shoes. Or, rather, in Isla’s pa—”
“Don’t finish that fucking sentence,” I threaten, pointing the blade in his direction. My voice is a low, primitive growl. “Why now?” I grit out before I can stop myself. “Why you ?”
“Why not me?” Asher grins, tugging his Santa hat lower over his ears. “Isla’s a catch. Figured it was time someone stepped up and made sure she knows it.”
The comment lights a fuse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He laces his arms behind his head, elbows out, posture dripping with smugness. “Unless you want it to mean something?”
Without answering, I obliterate the piece of wood in front of me. It explodes, splinters flying like shrapnel.
Asher whistles as he sidesteps a careening chunk of kindling. “Oh, my. Is that jealousy I’m detecting on your revoltingly too-handsome face?”
“I’m not jealous.” The swing that follows is so forceful it could easily hack through stone.
“Is that why you’re chopping shit like a lumberjack with a vendetta?”
“Pick up an axe, asshole,” I snap, setting up another log. “Or do you plan on just standing there, talking about your relationship all night?”
“We both know Dad has stocked the shed with enough lumber to last through an apocalypse. We’re only here because you want to escape Isla.”
“I—”
Don’t think about her. Don’t you dare think about her.
You’ve done enough damage.
“Fuck off.” Reverberations travel up my arms as I bury the blade into another slab .
My brother and his childhood fr— girlfriend —had barely set their bags down before my mom and sister whisked Isla to the living room to gush over the surprise development in their relationship.
The idea of sticking around and subjecting myself to the saccharine drivel made my skin crawl, so I swiftly volunteered to replenish our firewood supply.
“I didn’t ask for your company,” I remind Asher.
His smile fades. “You never ask for anything.” He shakes his head. “Besides, someone had to make sure you didn’t bolt.”
I ignore the heavy weight behind his words.
“Funny how you didn’t mention your relationship with Isla when you dropped by my office last week,” I say instead. “Not a single word about your hasty whirlwind romance.”
“Funny how you didn’t mention coming home for Christmas for the first time in half a decade,” he fires back.
His stance softens, sincerity threading through his words.
“Not a single word about gracing us with your presence.” There’s a quiet pause before he adds, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. ”
I focus on the next round instead of the earnestness in his voice.
“The ass kissing doesn’t change the fact that I’m onto you. There’s no way you’re dating Isla.”
“Are you demanding proof?” He cocks an eyebrow, a glint of mischief returning to his expression. “Interested in a little under-the-mistletoe show? Or maybe the dirty details of our sex life?”
“That’s it.” I materialize in front of him before I even realize I’ve moved.
“ Damn .” Asher takes a step back, hands lifting in mock surrender. “What’s the plan, Teddy? Gonna chop your baby brother into little pieces?” He may have assumed a defensive stance, but his smirk spells out dare .
“ Half -brother.”
He flinches at the word. And my tone.
Rightfully so.
I haven’t called him that since the angry, out-of-control version of me needed to hurt someone just to feel something.
Cursing, I step back and lower the axe. The wind cuts through my jacket, but the sting on my skin is easier to endure than the ache clawing at my chest.
My brother holds my gaze and smiles. “Look…” He leans forward, as if trying to reach straight into me. “If you want to talk—”
“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”
Isla is off-limits.
Always has been. Always will be.
Six years ago, she bared her soul to me. Trust and hope blazed in the gold flecks of her hazel eyes as she stood in front of me, heart in hand, bravely offering it to the wrong person.
What did I do?
Crushed it, tossed it into the snow, and ran the fuck away.
It was for the best.
Or so I told myself. Over and over again.
“I’m happy for you two,” I say through gritted teeth. “Truly.”
“We’ll see about that.” Asher claps me on the back, but the move isn’t meant to be reassuring.
No .
It’s a taunt.
“There’s nothing to see!” I call after him as he saunters toward the house .
I don’t want to see anything, but my mind refuses to listen. It floods with images of Isla and Asher, tangled together in ways that twist my gut.
The graphic scenes will undoubtedly haunt my nightmares tonight.