Page 52 of Brother's Keeper

Clearing a path was as easy as spreading my hands. Force walled up to divide the crowd so we could pass through. Preston gawked as I stole away with his fiancée, onto the deck and into the cold night.

Having dropped my crumpled cig somewhere in the house, I fished out a fresh one the second the door closed behind us. Holland didn’t stop, passing the lounge chairs and table and down the stairs to the path that led toward the water. After lighting up and filling my lungs with smoke, I chased after her.

We made it to the moonlit track where Holland kicked off her heels, losing a few inches of height so the hem of her gown dragged through the packed dirt. The longer we walked, the more I wondered if she’d onlywanted me to secure her passage out of the home, and now I was horning in on what was meant to be a solitary moment.

Finally, I asked, “You want privacy?”

She shook her head, luminous white locks swinging. “Not if you don’t mind staying.”

“I don’t mind.”

With her focus straight ahead, I let mine wander out across the hobby docks where sailboats bobbed. Beyond that, a lighthouse stood in the distance, beaming in steady rotations.

Holland hugged her arms around herself, trying to warm her bare arms and shoulders. I took the hint to shrug out of my suit coat and offer it to her.

She stopped moving and gave me the first eye contact since her plea inside. “Thank you,” she said. Her will to keep walking seemed to weaken, and she stayed in place, wrapping the jacket tightly around herself as she swayed side to side.

“So, I’m guessing the proposal was a surprise.” I flicked the ash off my cigarette.

She grimaced. “Was it that obvious?”

I chuckled, replaying the moment in my mind. “You looked… less than thrilled.”

Wind rushed across the waves and rustled trees that had yet to lose their leaves for the season. Behind us, several houses down, the Lyle home was aglow with golden light from every window and glass door.

“I should have seen it coming.” Holland sighed. “He even asked what kind of ring I liked.”

“That’s a surprise. He strikes me as the kind of guywho tells you what you like.”

“Well...” She raised her left hand to the faint light. The diamond solitaire glittered. It was a sizeable stone, not that I’d expected any less. “This isn’t what I picked,” she confessed.

I snorted through my next drag. “Jackass.”

Her gaze turned on me, weary. “I know you don’t like him.”

“I don’t like anybody.” I bounced one shoulder. “What matters is doyoulike him?”

She continued to stare, but her expression shifted to one of amusement. “Giving relationship advice now, are we?”

“Hell, no.” I scoffed. “The only relationship advice I have is to do the opposite of whatever I do. I haven’t dated anybody since…” Since her. But I couldn’t say that.

Holland waited until it became clear I had no intention of finishing my statement to ask, “Why not?”

Before the Bloody Hex, I’d thought about those things. My dad sat me down for “the talk” about sex and dating. But the freshman formal—complete with a limo service, dinner, and flowers for Holland—had been my first and last foray into romance. While other teenagers were making out in movie theaters or sharing a blanket on the bleachers at the varsity football game, I was tagging along for brothel trips and practicing my pickup game at the bar.

I could ask Nash out. Go somewhere that wasn’t the bar or his bedroom for once. The Capitol was paying me again, so I had funds. Maybe he’d like a nice dinner at asteakhouse or something. We could go to the movies. I almost laughed at the thought.

Our lives were getting stranger, Donovan even said so, and that made everything normal feel absurd.

After a long moment, I answered, “Just… never came up, I guess.”

Holland hummed a soft sound. “That’s sad.”

“Sad?” I laughed. “I’m not the one hiding from a profession of compatibility and a party in my honor.” My gesture to the house far behind us drew her gaze.

“‘Profession of compatibility?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

I drew down on the cigarette, and smoke coiled from my nostrils as I exhaled. “It means it’s work to him. You’re a job. A wise business decision.”

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