Page 101 of Finding Delaware

An odd electric current crackles the air, causing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. I go rigid in my seat, backstiffening, and I can already feel his gaze on me before I look toward the group of people that just walked in.

My gaze clashes with a pair of familiar ocean eyes.

Eyes that are narrowed, bouncing between me and Royce as he stands near the bar, arms crossed. Christian and Matt are beside him, along with someone who looks like his high school friend Xed but minus the mohawk. Of course, they’re all clad in black except for Matt, who’s wearing a tan hoodie. Christian leans over to kiss the bartender on the cheek, and as they all give their orders to her, Taylor’s attention never leaves me. A frown pulls at his lips.

There’s something different about him…

When he reaches up to adjust the snapback on his head, dark hair shifts around his jawline, and I realize with a bit of a jolt that the red-dyed tips are now pink. Bright fucking neon pink. Jesus.

Royce doesn’t seem to notice I’m distracted, instead laughing about another story involving torn clothes. I try to listen attentively, but every fiber and molecule is pulled toward my stepbrother across the room.

The stepbrother I haven’t seen in a month after I violently throat fucked him and left him curled on the floor.

My entire body flinches at the memory, turning the vodka in my stomach leaden.

Why is he here, in a bar? Isn’t he two years sober?

After they’d gotten home that night on Valentine’s, I’d asked Logan how Taylor had been, but he’d shrugged through his tears and had said that the drive back had been awkward as hell. I’d taken his dad’s Range Rover when I’d left, and the three had to squeeze into Taylor’s truck.

I felt horrible about that, but how was I supposed to know they’d break up? When Salem moved her things out, Taylor helped, but I’d been visiting my dad, so I hadn’t been there. Thankfully. Because honestly, after what I did, I didn’t think I could ever face him again. Didn’t plan on it.

And now here he is, marching over with his eyes trained on the back of Royce’s head, and–

Wait, what?!

He’s doing what?!

My eyes nearly bug out of my skull as he approaches. I shake my head at him, but he’s not looking at me.

Don’t you do it, Taylor. Don’t.

Royce has noticed my face by now, and he’s gazing at me with furrowed brows, asking if I’m alright, when my stepbrother stops at our table. He looks like shit, with dark circles under his eyes and lines beside his mouth, yet still so heartbreakingly beautiful that I want to scream.

“Hey, Royce,” he chirps almost cheerfully, smirking.

Oh, you motherfucker.

Royce looks up at him in surprise before his expression morphs into fury.

“You,” he points, nostrils flaring, and Taylor’s eyes flutter.

“Me.”

Royce launches out of his seat, hand fisted into Taylor’s denim jacket while his other arm clocks back to throw a punch. I’m beside him instantly, holding his arm to prevent the hit while Taylor grins.

“Royce, stop.” Trying to tug him back, I lose my balance slightly. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

Something flashes in Taylor’s eyes, but he keeps them on Royce as his friends hurry over, followed by the bouncer who’s got muscles in places I never even knew muscles could grow. Christian’s fists are already raised and ready to jump in while Matt and Xed crowd around us.

“Is there a problem here, Tay?” The bouncer puffs his chest, apparently on a first-name basis, but Taylor shakes his head quickly.

“Nah, Robbie, we’re all good. Just saying hi to my bro and his friend. Right, guys?”

I bite my cheek so hard I taste blood, I swear.

He and Royce stare each other down, a tense moment passing before Juanita swoops in and sets two shots down on our table.

“Nopelees,” she says firmly, lips pressed into a harsh line as she meets everyone’s gaze before heading back to the bar. I know enough Spanish to understand the gist of what she said.

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