Page 37 of How to Lose at Love

“Fine.” He sighs, defeated. “You’re right. Do what you want.”

I sit back.

Well.

This is no fun. He’s just going to give up lecturing me that easily?

Jeez.

“Do what I want.” I raise a brow. “By that you mean, keep playing and doing what I do and don’t worry about the other shit?”

“Sure.”

Why do I feel like he’s trying to trick me?

Is this that reverse psychology bullshit?

“Sure? That’s it?”

His shoulder rises and falls. “Sure.”

Eli Cohen smiles, and I see the reason my brother likes him so much; the guy cares a lot, but he also gives no fucks. But he also really gives a shit. But he doesn’t.

It’s a mind fuck, let me tell you.

Downstairs, I hear the doorbell ring.

“Expecting company on a Monday night?” My agent is watching me look toward my bedroom door, which is open.

I don’t hear the sound of either of my younger brothers.

The doorbell rings again.

“Persistent, eh?” Eli says.

“Drake!” I listen for the sound of footsteps. “Drew!”

Nothing.

“Can someone get the damn door?”

Eli yawns and stretches. “Our time is up anyway. I’ll leave you to it.”

I lean forward to hit the end button on the call, but not before adding, “Thanks for your time.”

“Same. We’ll chat soon.”

My agent ends the call, and I shove my chair away from the desk, rolling a few feet before standing.

I stick my head through Drew’s bedroom doorway.

Empty.

Stick my head into Drake’s bedroom.

Empty.

With a loud sigh, I head down the stairs, yanking the front door open without glancing through the window to see who it is.

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