Page 73 of Bona Fide

“Not my problem,” I carp.

“He will be if she leaks out that she fucked daddy dearest and you married the hoe anyways.”

“I didn’t know she had a fucking—”

“Never said you did.”

“What are you here for if you didn’t want my help?”

“Not your fucking blessing.”

I choke the neck of my bottle. “Then what?” Slowly, my brother brings his regard to me, displaying a blank face.

He’s lived with this for years. I’ve left him there alone. He should’ve come to me, he was old enough to know better—that I would’ve protected him.

Like you protected Camila?

“Watch your back, Brother. I’m not going to sit around and watch the shitshow that’s about to take place because that’s all this is going to be. I’m not going to fake-act like we’re a happy family when none of us have been the same since Camila died. Since your wife shoved pills down her throat.”

“I didn’t fucking know—”

“No, you didn’t know because your head was shoved too far up your ass trying to drive your career to the damn sky to pay any attention to things that were going on with us.”

“Where the fuck were you?” I bellow. “Since I’m the oldest, I need to protect all of you? You were grown as hell, lived at home with Camila and Phoebe. Were you too busy fucking bitches at bars and getting set up by Demi or do you—” Lucas lunges for me, knocking me deeper into the cushions of my couch before landing a punch to the side of my face.

Shoving him off me, he doesn’t go far, as I do the only thing I can do while I’m still stuck in the couch—I kick him in the balls.

Not my proudest moment, I think it breaks some sort of fight rule, but I’m literally not going to get plummeted by my younger brother while I’m at a disadvantage.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Lucas groans, hovered over as he almost trips on my coffee table.

“Not to sound like a child,” I reply, pushing myself up. “But you started it.” The corner of his lips quirk as he sits on the edge of the couch, still holding his manhood between his legs.

“Now maybe if you did that to Demi’s pair we might have a shot.”

“I’m cooking up a plan.”

“Which is?” I remain silent. “Ah, right...you and your secrets.”

“Better that way so you don’t become more collateral damage.” He shrugs, picking up his spilled beer on my hardwood floor.

“She probably knows I’m here anyway.” More than likely, I wouldn’t doubt it. She’ll be dying to know what for and why her threats and men at his throat don’t work on making him spill out the truth.

Not if he’s still the Lucas I grew up with.

“Stay inside, hidden,” I voice. “Text me if she comes near you again.”

“Don’t have your number.”

“I’ll unblock you,” I mumble. “And you’ll shack up with Phoebe. Go pack your shit.”

“I’m not having a sleepover with my sister,” he deadpans.

A mirthless chuckle hums in my chest. “Yeah, you are. Make sure you bring your teddy bear, shit’s going to hit the fan.”

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