Page 152 of All We Need

And sitting next to my paints and brushes is a tiny bouquet made entirely ofLEGO.

CHAPTER FIFTY

booth

I wokeup refreshed this morning.SleepingbesideAlyis incomparable.Mybody takes comfort in her proximity.

Now, it screams in protest at the distance between us.

The second my boots hit the creaky floorboards of my porch, exhaustion sweeps over me.

It’s too much effort to change or turn on the heating.Ihave just enough energy to make it to my bed before collapsing face-first into the rumpled sheets that smell like her.

An intense force punches me in the chest.Thankfully, it also knocks me unconscious, and sleep takes over.

I’m not sure how longI’mout.

When my front door bursts open, my backside meets the floor asIfly off the bed.Angryfootsteps storm my way.

“You’ve always been an idiot, but this really takes the cake!”Toweringover me,Grahamscowls down and points an angry finger in my direction. “Whatthe fuck is wrong with you?”

Groaning,Icrawl back onto the bed and return his scowl. “Everheard of knocking?”

“No.NotwhenIfind out from the girls that my little brother’s a colossal idiot with his head so far up his ass he’s failed to see what’s right in front of him.”

He’s pissed and talking a lot.Bothof which are completely unlikeGraham.

And because it’s so out of character,Iget nervous and crack a joke.

“You’re just jealous my tush is better than yours.”

He picks up a magazine from my coffee table, rolls it up, and smacks me upside the head.

“Hey!”Irub at my ear. “Whatthe fuck are you going on about?”

“The girls were waiting outside the bakery to say goodbye toAly.”

The mention of her name makes me cringe in shame.Notwanting him to noticeI’mhanging on by a thread,Istand and move into the kitchen. “That’snice of them.”

“Yeah, really nice.”Hisfootsteps echo behind me. “Whatwasn’t nice was to hear from them that my talented, charismatic, skilled brother turned down his dream job.Withno explanation.”

I freeze. “Shetold them.”

“Yeah, andI’mglad she did.”Afirm hand grasps my shoulder and forces me to turn around. “Shetold them because she cares.”

Graham isn’t mad anymore.He’sdisappointed.

In me.

A running theme with everyoneIinteract with today.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks.

I’m too tired to argue with him.Legsleaden with regret, he follows me over to the sofa andItell him exactly whatItoldAly.WhenI’mfinished, he reaches for the magazine again.

My arms fly up to protect myself. “Cutthat out, you prick.”

Dropping his weapon, he studies me over the rim of hisglasses, then falls back against the sofa. “Didwe pressure you into staying?”

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