Page 48 of I Blame the Rival

“Is that what happened?”

Skylar steps forward with a dish towel slung over one shoulder. Standing next to each other, the two brothers look like night and day.

Only coming up to his brother’s shoulder, Skylar’s narrow chest is less than half the size. But the differences don't end there. Where Skylar is made up of delicate skin and sharp angles, Vector’s face is like a square, his jaw bulky and uneven while his skin is spotted with faint traces of acne.

Throwing me a wink, Vector turns to his brother with a grin, “I also took the time to learn a little thing called weight lifting. Sky always preferred more… neutral settings.”

Skylar takes the jab without a word and I frown at him. Vector is trying to put on a power play, knocking his little brother down in front of a stranger, and I don’t like it one bit.

“I’ve always thought art takes a lot more skill than weight lifting.” I shrug, meeting Skylar’s eyes, “Anyone can hit the gym, but not everyone can draw something worth looking at.”

Silence descends upon the living room, but I don’t feel bothered by it. A warm glow has filled Skylar’s eyes, and the knowledge that I put it there spreads the warmth all the way to my heart.

“I like her.”

Vector breaks the silence with a laugh, giving his brother a pat on the back, “Try not to fuck this one up.”

“Language.” Amber shifts to give her son a stern glare, “Don’t make me wash your mouth out with soap, young man. You know I’ll do it.”

“Cruel woman.”

Vector grins and bends down to plant a kiss on his mom’s cheek. She laughs, swatting him away, and the motion sends the cardigan sliding off her shoulder.

Warped skin becomes exposed as the grey material slinks past her forearm, displaying crisscrossed lines of scar tissue dancing its way up Amber’s body.

A gasp escapes my mouth and the room falls silent once more.

Skylar

“Amber, what happened to your arm?”

Lacey puts a hand over her mouth, as if that might erase the scars decorating my mother’s body. Vector stiffens next to me and I drop my gaze to the floor.

“Oh, these are old scars.” Amber laughs as if she can’t feel the tension in the room, “My ex-husband knocked over a vase and I was silly enough to fall into the mess.”

Vector clenches his hands, the anger visible from the bulging tendons running down his thick arms. My own frustration pricks at me, but I shut it down quickly, refusing to let it ignite.

“That’s horrible.” Lacey bites her lip, “Does it still hurt?”

“Not at all. When you’re as clumsy as I am, you get used to having a few bumps and bruises.”

The lie slides out of her mouth as easily as it did back when she was wearing long sleeves to cover up the bruises my father would leave behind.

Even after all these years, she still makes excuses for him.

“Jesus Christ.” Shaking his head in disgust, Vector turns and storms from the living room. Amber watches him go, her brows knitting together when she hears the front door slam shut.

“I better go talk to him.” She sighs, “Skylar, why don’t you show Lacey the rest of the house? I’m sure she would love to see some of your artwork.”

Ignoring the sting in my chest, I step forward to help her get off the couch, but she stubbornly shakes her head. Lacey and I both watch as she struggles to push herself up off the cushions, the painful wince when she lands on her feet impossible to miss.

“Behave and I’ll let you keep your bedroom door closed.” Amber cracks the joke, giving me a quick hug as she shuffles past, “Just remember to be responsible. I’m too young to have grandchildren.”

“Mom.”

“I’m just saying, use your head to think and your heart to feel. Don’t let your other anatomy take control.”

Her laughter echoes down the hall and I turn back to my blushing flower.

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