Page 61 of Brother's Keeper

Dragging myself from under the covers, I sat against the headboard and used my hand to cover a yawn. The headache lingered like an impression stamped in my mind. Less of an active pain and more the memory of one.

Nash set the tray across my lap, then gestured to the food arranged on the plate beside a glass of orange juice. “We’ve got eggs, biscuits, and raspberry jam.”

And a single flower in a bud vase that pushed the whole thing into Hallmark movie-level cringe. I started to tell him so, but a glance at his face found his ruddy cheeks full and his brown eyes creased with smile lines. He looked so pleased with himself that I couldn’t help but smile in response.

“Very cute,” I said.

He pulled back the covers and slid in beside me, still in his sweats despite it being presumably near noon.

The meal smelled enticing as always, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch. Cooking was a pet passion of both the Nash siblings, another kind of chemistry that appealed to their scientifically inclined minds.

As I loaded the fork with the firm whites of over-easy eggs, I caught Nash watching in my peripheral. Ignoring my growling stomach, I set the utensil down with a clink and faced him.

“Why do you do this shit for me?”

He looked blank for a moment, maybe startled. After a time too long not to be suspicious, he said, “Why do you ask dumb questions?”

Blame it on my fried brain, but I legitimately wanted him to explain. What did I do for him? I dropped in when it suited me, left his messages unread, and took more than I gave in every capacity. I wouldn’t have done half as much for someone like me.

Maybe the sex was just that good. And I owed him for last night. Promising a free ride and then not following through was bad manners, and I couldn’t afford to be rudeanda cock tease.

Before I could make any overtures toward that end, Nash spoke. “I saw the news about the party. You’re making headlines again.”

From milk carton missing child to pardoned murderer set loose to prowl the streets, infamy was a part of my identity. I couldn’t shake the media sharks if I wanted to. Good thing I had a face made for the camera.

“Can’t help myself, I guess.” I shrugged. “What’d they say?”

“That you saved a bunch of people. Held up a damn house.” Nash’s chest puffed with pride.

“Only part of it.” I dug into the eggs again, spending more effort pushing them around than actually eating.

“No wonder you were spent,” Nash mused. “I haven’t seen you that overdone in a long time.”

Setting the fork down again, I tried the juice instead. A tentative sip found it tangy and loaded with pulp. I would swallow damn near anything, but the chunky texture triggered me. Putting the glass to my lips again, I did my best to discreetly spit the juice out. Thankfully, Nash carried on without noticing.

“I told Pippa,” he said.

I raised a brow. “About Max?”

“About you being a hero.”

There was that word again, bringing a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow. I lifted the tray off my lap and set it on the bedside table, then clasped my hands in my lap. Thirty black lines tattooed on my fingers told a very different story about the kind of person I was. Something much closer to the truth.

Oblivious to my internal strife, Nash carried on. “Maybe she’ll lighten up if she knows you do good things. At least sometimes.” His wink cut into me, and I struggled to form a tight smile.

I imagined what Pippa must have said after I went to bed. Talk about vindication. If she’d needed any proof of the negative impact I was having on her brother’s life and livelihood, finding a political prisoner stored beneathher home was more than enough. And I hardly believed one news report about my exaggerated good deed would change her mind.

“Thanks for handling that last night,” I said. “It’s my shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“I don’t mind.” Nash reached toward my face, angling for an errant lock of blond hair.

Rather than let him brush it back, I recoiled and fixed him with an incredulous look. “You don’t mind feeding and caring for an unwilling prisoner in your cellar?” I snorted. “Fuck, Nash, you’re a nice guy, but not a dumb one.” In fact, he was one of the smartest people I knew. How was he not savvy enough to see that I was taking advantage of him?

“I find it hard to say no to you,” he said coyly. Another attempt at levity that didn’t quite land.

“Well, maybe you should try to a little more often before I ruin your life.” My laugh rang hollow. It wasn’t a very good joke. Considering the state of his business, it was more a statement of fact.

We both sobered, and I sighed. “I’ll find another place to put Max,” I said. “Soon.”

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