Page 44 of The Heat of Us

“Why do you do that?” I snapped. “Barking at her. Over biscuits. Really?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gray tugging on her collar with a subtle slicing motion. Cut it out.

I suppose she was just numb to all this from living under the same roof as them.

“Don’t fight,” Ma cut in quickly before my dad could explode on me. “It’s ok, Remy. Everything is fine.” She turned to my father, the packet already stowed back in the cupboard. “Good idea, I’ll save them for next time, dear.”

I decided to ignore my sister’s warning and poke the bear.

“Have you heard from Aunty Jas and Aunty Liya recently, Ma?”

Gray kicked me in the shin under the table. I fought to keep my face blank through the pain.

I knew what I was doing by asking my mum about her sisters back in Malaysia. My father loved telling my mother that they were in Australia now and should behave as such. On the rare occasions her family would visit, he acted like he was counting down the seconds to when their plane would leave again.

My aunts were oblivious, praising her for nabbing an alpha and living ‘the good life’ in a Western country. All they saw was the big house and the fact that she didn’t have to work.

Didn’t have to? More like wasn’t allowed.

Nevertheless I was more than happy to remind my father a whole aspect of her life existed outside of him whether he liked it or not.

I listened attentively as Ma updated me on her sisters’ lives, making sure to ask lots of follow up questions. Dad looked like he was about to have a conniption by the time we were done.

Good.

“Are you planning on doing anything useful with your life anytime soon, son?”

Don’t rise to the bait.

I smiled just a little bit too wide at my father. “Nope. Not yet. You’ll be the first to know though.”

As far as my parents and Lachlan were concerned, I was a personal trainer. I did spend a lot of time at my boxing gym which helped sell the lie.

Gray came over to my apartment one day, took one look at the placement of the tripod I’d left out and said, “You do porn, don’t you?”

She’d always been much, much smarter than me.

I didn’t plan on making a career of jacking myself off for money. One of my exes was very into being filmed and we joked about uploading it somewhere for shits and giggles. We drunkenly did it one night.

My dirty talk and moans got more attention than her tits.

We broke up shortly after and I started my profile the following week.

“Dad, should we?” The hope in Lachlan’s eyes was depressing.

Dad stood up with a toss of his head. Lachlan lapped up this tiny gesture like he’d been delivered a frilly, embossed invitation to the office. He kissed Mum on the cheek and gave Gray an awkward side hug.

“See you next time, Grace.”

I didn’t miss her pinched expression. At least no one made any comments about the way she dressed today. Why did it fucking matter if her definition of looking ‘nice’ didn’t involve a skirt?

“Bye, Lachy,” I cooed, waving my fingers at my brother.

Lachlan hated being called Lachy even more than Gray hated being called Grace.

“Get fucked, Rem.”

The men were off to drink scotch. Us peasants were to attend to the kitchen.

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