Page 17 of Heartfelt Pain
And what the fuck do I have?
I’m hanging out with my brother on a Saturday night. I don’t have friends. I don’t like my job.
It’s not Ren’s life I fucked up all those years ago—it's mine.
Ren took those five years between now and when we first met and made something of herself.
I’ve done nothing. I’ve got nothing.
I am nothing.
No wonder Uncle Dima offered to take me to see a therapist.
“Do you remember my old mortal enemy?” Elijah asks.
I pick my head off the couch. “The one that just came back from Oxf?—”
“No, not that piece of shit,” Elijah snaps. My shoulders sag back into the couch cushions. “Leopold Stuart.”
“Oh, that one,” I mutter. In all fairness, my older brother picks up mortal enemies like they’re collectibles. “The one Adeline killed just six months ago.”
I smirk at Elijah’s reaction. Noise catches in the back of his throat, his steely gray eyes narrowing. He wanted the shot, but Adeline took it from him.
“Yes, that one.” Elijah’s tone is more clipped now. “I quite liked you then you know.”
My forehead wrinkles. “You liked. . . wait, what?”
Elijah sighs like he can’t believe I’m not keeping up. “You joked around with blood splattered all over your face. I found it glorious.”
I wanted to get tested in case any of said blood gave me a disease.
“That’s what you found glorious?” I ask.
Elijah shook with rage. I’d been with him when he found out Lennie got kidnapped. When he found out Ivan had been shot and killed.
I have no qualms about violence, but I often go out of my way to avoid it. However, that might have more to do with the fact that I try my best to avoid anything my father wants done. If Elijah, Dima, and Max want to do everything Dad bids them to then that’s on them.
“Let yourself be.”
I blink, realizing its Elijah speaking and not the television.
“You can’t change the past, Roman,” Elijah says. His serious face is illuminated by blues and greens thanks to the TV. “But you can stop letting it hold you back.”
Something like a snort comes out of me. “Leave it to you to become a life coach.”
“My advice has always been gold, little brother.”
Hardly, but I let him think it.
“Is there more on your mind?” Elijah asks.
I’m saved from having to answer when Lennie walks in. Albert pitter-patters over, bumping my hand with his head in demand for pets. Who am I to deny him?
My hands stroke over his fur as I carefully study Lennie. “You look. . .”
“Do you like it?” Lennie twirls around.
Lennie’s wearing a skintight black dress. It’s strapless and cups her chest. She’s got her hair up, her smile bright.
