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“But it’s not.” His voice is splintered like old wood. He pushes off the chair to his feet, turns away from me. “It’s not.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and worry twists my already unsettled stomach.
He leaves the room before I find something to say.
Chapter Four
Ocean
Tearing the jacket off me, my skin crawling all over, I open a random door and find myself in her bathroom. I close the door and lean against it, trying to catch my breath.
Fucking dreams. Fucking memories.
Pulling my sweater sleeve up, I rub compulsively at the ink on my forearm. Figures I’d sleep like shit and wander back in time for the worst day of my life.
Your fault, I hear my brother’s voice inside my head. It’s your goddamn fault.
Jesus fuck. I push off the door and stumble to the sink. A twist of the knob and I splash my face with ice-cold water, over my hot cheeks and burning eyes. I rub at them, to erase the images branded on the inside of my lids.
I’m sorry, Livvy. So fucking sorry.
Perfect time I’ve chosen to come apart.
On cue, there’s a timid knock on the bathroom door. “Ocean? Can I come in?”
Fuck. I wipe water from my face and make a grab for the hand towel. “Just a sec!”
Calm down. It’s okay.
Only it’s not. Not with the way Mom is deteriorating every day, and with Raine bound and determined to cut me out of his life.
I’m the older brother. I protect, that’s my job.
And I failed at it miserably. He’s right to hate me. I hate me, too. I just fucking can’t… Can’t fix the past. Or even the present.
The door creaks open, and I let the towel drop to the sink as her reflection greets me in the mirror. Her eyes look huge in her pale face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I gather the towel to hide my shaking hands and hang it awkwardly on the rack. “I should head home.”
Her slender brows draw together. “You don’t start work until the afternoon. Stay for breakfast.”
“I can’t.” I bend over to lift my jacket from the floor. “Thanks, but I really should get going.”
She’s biting her lip as I straighten, distracting me. “That must’ve been a hell of a nightmare.”
I flinch and barely hide a full-body shiver. “Can’t remember it.”
She’s looking at me through the mirror, our reflections side by side. I look like a half-drowned raccoon with black bags under my fucking eyes.
She looks… pretty. Real pretty, and hot, even in her wrinkled clothes from last night with her smudged eye make-up and her hair tousled.
Especially with her eye make-up smudged and her hair tousled. I imagine waking up to her looking like that after a night of pounding into her, of my face on her tits and my hand between her legs, and I groan between my teeth.
My dick starts to thicken in my pants, pushing against the zipper.
Oh fuck… I’m staring at her and can’t look away. Why can’t I look away? Why do I want her so badly? And why now of all times, now that my life’s a worse mess than usual?
