Page 32 of Eight Steps to Alpha

“I can see that, Fe, but what I don’t understand, is why?”

“Because it’s the nice thing to do. Because he’s family—”

“Without my permission?” he cut her off.

She swallowed hard, her chest heavy, as she raised her chin a little bit higher. “I didn’t know I needed permission.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp, opened the closet, then proceeded to search the shelves looking for clean linens. “Why the hell do you have such a problem anyway? He’s your brother, Elliot. The least you can do is offer him a couch to lay his head.”

Elliot stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “My brother and I’s relationship is none of your business, Fe.”

She froze, because even though what he said was completely true, it was the first time he’d ever said that to her before. The first time he’d said any part of his life was none of her business. She tried not to let it bother her, but his words were rolling around in her head, and she suddenly felt sick. Pulling pillows, blankets, and any sort of bedding from the shelves she could find, she closed the closet door, then turned once again to the living room.

“I’m putting my foot down, Fe.”

Her stomach twisted, and she turned slowly on her heels. “What?”

“I’m putting my foot down.”

She squeezed the blankets close to her chest and counted to three. “And what does that mean, exactly?

“It means,” he began. “That this is my house, and he’s not staying here. End of story.”

If her arms hadn’t been full of blankets, she would have slapped him. “Wow.” She scoffed. “And here I thought I was paying half the rent. Silly me.” She shoved past him with all her might, walked across the living room floor, and threw the pile of blankets on the couch.

“It’s all settled, Colton. You can stay as long as you’d like.” She flung the cushions from the back of the sofa, proceeded to dress the couch with sheets, pillows, and blankets. But she could barely think straight because her blood was boiling so hot. Who the hell did he think he was? Elliot had never spoken to her like that in five years. Not once. To hear those words come out of his mouth made her want to howl in pain.

She knew it wasn’t her place to invite Colton to stay, but after Elliot’s words in the hall, there was no way she was going to let him walk out that door. No way.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Colton was the first piece of Elliot’s past she’s ever met. Asshole or not, she couldn’t let him leave without getting some answers. Like why Elliot never talked about his father, or why he ignored his mom’s phone calls but always seemed to feel guilty about it the next day. He was the piece of the puzzle she needed, and she couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

Satisfied with her makeshift bed, she smoothed her shirt over her body, then turned once again to the hall. Elliot was leaning against the doorjamb watching her, and she could tell by his stance that he was still angry.

“There are towels in the cabinet above the toilet, Colton,” she said without looking over at him. “Please help yourself to the shower if you’d like.”

Colton tipped his head in her direction, covering the plate of chicken before standing to his feet. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate your hospitality, I really do.”

She gave him a hesitant smile, then glanced over at Elliot. “Thank your brother. It’s his house after all.”

Without waiting for either one of them to respond, she walked across the living room, passed Elliot in the hall, who gently reached out to grab her arm. “What are you doing?” he asked softly. This time his voice was pleading, and she almost felt sympathetic.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to bed.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

She yanked her arm from his grasp, not wanting him to touch her, and walked into her room.

“Fe, can we talk about this,” he asked.

But she closed the door behind her, not giving him a second thought. She walked across the room, pulled down her covers, and proceeded to crawl into bed.

Never in the five years she’d lived with him, had she gone to bed angry, had she ignored him so bluntly, or shied away from his touch. It was funny how things changed so quickly.

Eventually, she heard him move away from the door, and his own door slam a moment later. She rolled to her side, staring at the wall, waiting for her heart to slow down.

“What are you doing, Fe?” she asked herself. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

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