Page 10 of Ruined

When I step inside, that scent fills my nostrils again. The same scent as the one that hit me when Logan opened the door and found me soaked in rain and full of nerves. His scent.

The twins are nowhere to be seen. Luca is out on his dinner date, and Nico is doing whatever in his room. Thank God. I don’t know what I need, but I know I can’t talk to the twins right now. They’re going to ask me questions I don’t want to answer. I don’t know them well enough to have faith that they wouldn’t judge me.

I don’t know who I can tell, except my best friend, Lane. He knows about keeping secrets; he kept one from me all summer. He’s a lousy liar, and we both have experience in wanting the wrong guy, I guess. In his case, the wrong guy wasn’t his stepdad; it was my asshole big brother who’d just gotten out of prison.

They might have thought they were being subtle when they started hooking up in Mason’s room and even in the freaking pool, but I knew for a long time. Even if the thought of my brother and Lane still makes my stomach churn, I’m mostly over it. They seem happy together, despite everything. Lane has put some spell on my brother and made him less of an asshole, I guess.

When I text Lane, he replies right away. He and Mason live in the Pearl District, so we agree to meet tomorrow at a café that’s close to us both. Lane is the only one who’d understand what I’m going through—and most of all, the only one who wouldn’t judge me for it. I just hope I’m able to tell him my truth, the way he failed to tell me his.

Murphy’s Coffee is quiet inside. It serves premade salads and sandwiches for lunch alongside its à la carte menu, and it seems mostly catered to weekday workers—not friends meeting on a Sunday afternoon.

We agreed to meet at four, but I’m ten minutes early. I couldn’t stand to stay in my room a second longer, too wired, my stomach in knots. I barely slept a wink. Tossed and turned, unable to find rest as flashes of last night played in my mind.

Logan’s shocked face. His gentle voice saying my name. Ollie. I screw my eyes shut, my heart jumping in my chest.

Don’t think about him. Easier said than done; it’s what I’ve tried to do for years and failed. And now that he’s back in town, it’s not like ignoring him will get any easier.

I take a seat at a booth in the corner, cradling a mug of hot chocolate. The sticky liquid clings to the roof of my mouth. Too sweet. Logan used to make me hot chocolate during the winter months, and it was way better than this.

I clench my jaw. Failed again. It’s not my fault that he’s constantly invading my mind, damn it. After last night, the memories feel fresher than usual. Closer than ever. Logan. Dad…

Luckily, I don’t have to be alone with my thoughts for much longer. The door chimes, and Lane walks inside. He waves as he spots me, but he’s not alone.

“No.” The word grinds out of me in protest and anger.

Behind Lane’s small frame, an older guy follows. A lean, muscular guy with broad shoulders, brown close-cropped hair, and an annoyingly smug look on his face.

Why the hell is he here? This is supposed to be a private conversation between me and Lane, not me, Lane, and my brother. Fuck.

“Sorry!” Lane blurts, fidgeting with the choker around his neck. The coal-black liner around his eyes is smudged at the corners. “He found out where I was going, and⁠—”

“Leave.” I glare at Mason, who’s sliding right into the booth across from me.

Ignoring me, he pulls Lane in with him, hands on his hips. Lane gives a little yelp but lets himself be manhandled into the seat.

“I didn’t invite you,” I grumble.

“I know.” Mason shrugs and grins. “But I wanted to see how my little brother’s doing.”

He waves at the waiter, even though you’re supposed to order at the counter. Spoiled asshole. Acting like the world is his oyster—like he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Even sleep with my best friend right under my nose, after I begged him to stay away.

I hold my mug of hot chocolate in a death grip. “I’m doing fine, now leave.”

Mason raises a brow, looking unbothered. “But Lane said you’re upset.”

I glare at Lane in betrayal, and he holds up a hand.

“I didn’t! He just… figured it out.”

Great. I should leave, but I’m desperate to talk to Lane, my asshole big brother be damned.

They get their drinks, and Mason sips his coffee while placing a hand under the table—on Lane’s thigh, no doubt. They’re sex-crazed maniacs, the both of them, and I’m not in the mood to see them paw at each other today. I’m never in the mood for that, but today least of all.

My shoulders stiffen as I try to ignore the way Lane looks up at my brother with stars in his eyes. They were annoying enough to be around during the small stretch of time we lived together, but now I can barely stand to look at them. Now and again, Lane’s eyes widen for a beat, and I suspect it’s because Mason must’ve squeezed his thigh.

Their sexual shenanigans aren’t even the worst of it, though. No, the worst is the way they look at each other. The smile tugging at the corner of Mason’s mouth. The gleam in Lane’s eyes and the blush on his cheeks.

Envy blazes through my veins. It feels like anger—it feels like the desperate wish to feel like that for someone else. When I tried to break out of my bubble and meet someone, I ended up meeting… him.