Page 79 of Deviant Obsession

I remain motionless against the counter, my stillness a stark contrast to his agitation. Years of training in the ring taught me to conserve energy, to wait for my opponent to exhaust themselves. But this isn't a fight I want to win.

"I’m not claiming to know anything for sure. I'm just the one being realistic about losing her."

"There's nothing realistic about me giving up without a fight." Dean runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands like he can pull the answers from his skull. "I can’t just watch her walk away. I thought we had something great. I thought she was loving every minute of it. How could I notseeher changing her mind? And why won’t you help me fix it?"

"Because I care more about her happiness than winning. We both know that if we asked her to, she’d put what we want first. That’s just Rhea. But we’d be total assholes for demanding that from her when it’s not what she would choose."

Dean freezes mid-stride, the anger draining from his face as understanding dawns. We stare at each other across the kitchen, the truth we've both been avoiding finally laid bare.

He slumps against the wall, all the fight leaving him in a rush of breath. "Fuck."

I watch my brother's shoulders cave inward, recognizing the defeat in his posture because it mirrors my own. We've spent our lives holding each other up, pushing each other to be stronger, better, more controlled. But this...this shared vulnerability feels like free falling without a net.

The coffee grows cold on the counter, forgotten like our pretense of keeping this simple. Of keeping our hearts locked safely away where Rhea can't reach them.

But she already has.

For the first time since we were kids, I see raw fear in my twin's face. Not the arrogant smirk he wears like a badge of honor, not the genuine smile he usually only lets show when we’re alone. This is the bone-deep terror of losing something irreplaceable.

"I don't want to lose her either." The words scrape past my lips before I can stop them, rough with emotion I’m sure he finds jarring coming from me of all people.

True to my expectations, his head snaps up, shock written across features so similar to my own. Vulnerability is not my style. But now seems as good a time as any to let my brother know that I don’t have it together. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. What can he say? We both know there’s no protecting ourselves from the blow we know is coming.

Neither of us speaks for a long while. There's nothing left to say. The silence stretches until it feels like glass, fragile and sharp-edged. I’m still not convinced that Dean isn’t on the edge of a crazed rampage. Whether he’d go back to Rhea crying on his knees or fuck half the women in Ramona in an attempt to soothe his bruised heart, I can see him balancing on a knife edge. One wrong word could set him off.

My phone vibrates against my thigh, startling us both from our thoughts. Dean watches me, hope and dread warring in his expression as I pull the device from my pocket. One glance at the screen makes my stomach drop.

"It's her, isn't it?"

I nod, unable to form words as I read the message. Three lines that confirm everything we've been afraid of:

Rhea: I need some time.

Rhea: Please don't contact me.

Rhea: I’m sorry.

The phone feels like a ticking bomb in my hand as I turn it to show Dean. I watch his eyes dart back and forth as he reads it over and over again, as if the words might somehow change.

"She can't just..." He trails off, the protest dying before it fully forms. We both know she can. She should.

"We have to respect her wishes. No calls. No texts. No showing up at her apartment."

Dean's fingers curl into fists against his thighs. "For how long?"

"As long as she wants." I push away from the counter, needing to move, to do something with this restless energy building under my skin. "Forever, if she doesn’t reach out again."

"Forever," he echoes, his eyes glazed and distant. "What am I supposed to do with that? If she never comes back?"

I brace my hand on the doorjamb, staring out the window at the city waking up below. People are going about their morning routines, unaware that my world is imploding in this quiet kitchen.

"We live with it." It feels like my entire body is raging against my forced calm, like every muscle is coiled tight with the urge to lash out, to hit something. "She’s not ours if she doesn’t want to be."

Dean makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "How are you always so calm?"

"If I don’t keep a leash on myself, I’ll destroy everything I love.” I turn to face him, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "And then myself."

Chapter 27

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