Page 68 of The Best of Us

Chapter19

Constantine

I hadn’t thoughtit was possible to sleep, but when I rolled over on my bed and opened my eyes to check my phone, it was 15:12. I thought back to Colin’s comment earlier that morning and shocked myself by changing the time from military to civilian. I stared at the numbers on my lock screen.3:12.That’d take some getting used to.

I stood, pocketed my phone, and gripped my chin between my palms to crack my neck. I’d slept awkwardly, but at least I’d managed a few hours. Hopefully, those few hours of rest would help my overall mood and keep me from opening my mouth and oversharing like I’d done all morning with Izzy and Juliette.

I left my bedroom, curious if anyone else was awake. Stopping outside Juliette’s closed door, I was tempted to invade her privacy and check on her, but I forced myself to move along.

When I reached the end of the hall, I halted at the sight of mysonsitting at the breakfast bar. He slurped milk straight from his bowl, a box of Cheerios next to him.

My assistant must’ve delivered my food order while I slept. She was among the few people with access to my home and the security code to get in and out. I’d told her to be quiet in case any of my guests were asleep.

And dammit, I’d ordered the food before knowing about his peanut allergy. Were Cheerios safe to eat?

He’s not three. He’d know better than to eat something without checking.The reminder slammed into me, keeping me in place and from shouting out some ridiculous warning to stop eating.

Colin set down his bowl and used his sleeve to clean the milk from his chin like he’d done with his tears that morning. He had to have seen me hovering by now, but he acted like I was invisible.

I was. For sixteen years.

The painful thought hit me, nearly knocking my feet out from under me, and spurred me to get walking again.

“Your mom asleep?” I assumed he’d have opened her door and peeked in on her when I couldn’t.

“Yeah, out cold.”

Good.I dumped the espresso I’d left out down the drain. I’d been so distracted by Juliette when she’d walked into the kitchen earlier, her messy hair framing her beautiful face and her tight nipples showing through her shirt, I’d forgotten all about the drink.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked him, hiding my grimace as the mere thought of Juliette had my dick waking up.Do not get hard with Colin in the room.What the hell was wrong with me?

If my son knew the dirty thoughts I’d had about his mother these last few days,I’dhave a coronary right along with him.

“An hour maybe. I thought I was still dreaming when I opened the fridge and saw the milk. Uh, thanks for that and the food.”

Abandoning my mission for a new shot of espresso, I faced him as he poured himself more cereal. Heavy on the milk, light on the Cheerios. Plenty of both now on the counter.

I did my best to ignore the sight, but my clean-freak nature had the hairs on my arms standing.

“You sleep at all?” he asked, looking up from his bowl.

“A couple hours.”

He nodded, and we stared at one another, unsure how to engage in small talk. I didn’t even know where to begin with him because any question I had served as a reminder he grew up without me.

As we remained locked into some type of staring contest, playing a game of chicken to see who’d break first and speak, I couldn’t help but key in on our similarities.

If I had a photo of myself from my high school days, he’d be shocked to discover it wasn’t actually of him. No wonder I’d been so thrown off when I first saw him in the parking garage. It’d been like looking into a mirror at my sixteen-year-old self.

“What are you thinking?” He broke first, saving me from having to do it.

I folded my arms, feeling the need to guard myself. “Just how much we look alike.”

His eyes tightened on me, cruising slowly down over my body as if sizing me up, deciding if that was an insult or a compliment. “You never answered me about the scars. You have more on your body?”

Like mother, like son.They both seemed to skip straight to the heavy. Why couldn’t he ask my favorite color? Or even my preferred rifle? “There are more, yes. On my back and chest.”

“From?” He returned to eating as if his question hadn’t just mind-fucked me.

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