Page 10 of Unwrapping Deviance

Both men are in the living room when I tiptoe to the top of the stairs.

I’m not trying to be sneaky, but the place is so still, so eerily silent. Every creak of the floorboards ignites that quiet like a bomb. I’m not used to it. I don’t think I like it.

But I find the boys standing on opposite ends of the room. Both with their arms folded. Two hostile bulls glowering across the distance. Our luggage sits at Daniel’s feet, forgotten. Christian is dressed in black jeans and a faded rock band t-shirt I can’t make out.

“You’re not leaving me alone to deal with this shit,” Daniel’s saying. “I like being here about as much as you do, but I’m not paying the taxes and whatever else left behind on this place.”

“So, you want to fix the place up, because that’s what it’ll take to sell it?”

“How much work?” he mutters.

“It’s a fucking lot, okay? Christ! The whole fucking place needs to get torn down and burned and that’s the fastest way. Otherwise, the structure beams need to be looked at. Half the panels outside the house have rotted through. The porch? The roof? Total redo. Plus, the foundation under the house has an honest to God tree growing out of the fucking concrete. It’s one broken lightbulb shy of being condemned.”

Daniel’s chest lifts in a deep, bracing inhale as he takes that all in.

“What’s our time frame?”

“To repair everything and sell? A year if we get a good crew. Waste of money if you ask me. Sell it as is and eat the cost. Better yet, burn it down.”

Daniel shakes his head. “This place was Mom’s pride and joy. She’s probably turned over in her grave seeing what Dad did to it.”

The sneer curling back Christian’s lips over his teeth is nothing if not hostile. It drips hate. It’s vile malice in true form.

“Mom’s dead. She doesn’t give a shit about this place anymore or what that bastard did to it. Stop worrying about her and think about your own problems.”

Daniel frowns the same time I do. “What are you talking about?”

One fully tattooed arm swings up and sweeps towards the place I’m standing. For a panicked second, I think he’d seen me, but he never glances my way.

“You brought her?” My breath catches in my throat at the sheer indignation leaving the bottom of his chest. “What were you thinking?”

I’m expecting Daniel to be as confused as I am, to tell his brother,of course, I brought her. Why wouldn’t I?

But he drops his gaze. His chin hits his chest, weighed down by guilt as he rubs a hand over his jaw.

“I couldn’t leave her alone.”

The implications of his statement hits me in the gut. It hangs in the silence that follows as it becomes painfully evident what he thinks of me. The mortification has my eyes burning as I bite back the urge to run and hide ... like the child he apparently thinks I am because I’m clearly too helpless and stupid to be on my own a few days.

“Are you serious?” Christian arches an eyebrow and studies his brother’s face. “That’s your excuse?”

A large palm scrubs over Daniel’s tired face. “It’s not an excuse. I don’t like knowing she’s alone and I’m too far if she needs me.” He lets his arm drop to his side. “And I didn’t want to be here without her.”

As quickly as the tides of my anger and hurt had risen, it recedes back into the vast ocean of my emotions. I drown in the syrupy goo left behind by the sweet confession.

“Well, that was a stupid move,” Christian props his hip against the armrest of the sofa and folds his arms. “She doesn’t belong here, Danny. You should have left her at home.”

It’s hard to fathom the thought process behind Christian’s cruel words when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I can only guess it’s because I’d been right in my assumption earlier in the truck and Christian hates me, while simultaneously being wrong that he felt something when our hands touched. Unless he’s a really great actor and I fooled myself.

“I’ll keep her safe,” Daniel says with a tightness of someone not exactly believing their own lie.

“By yourself?”

Daniel’s head jerks up, his eyes dark with frustration fixed on his brother. “I’ll handle it.”

The other man is not convinced, but he lets the matter of my existence slide momentarily to return to the issue at hand.

“He’s emptied the rooms.” Christian pushes to his feet to mirror Daniel’s posture with his tatted arms crossed and one leg extended. “All of Mom’s shit. Yours. Mine. Probably set it all on fire. Only kept his useless junk.”

---