Page 66 of Organized Chaos
I unlocked my phone, and sure enough, Milo had sent a few texts in the last half hour.
“I was here.” Technically, the truth.
“Then why didn’t you answer? I was worried sick that you got kidnapped or something and ended up leaving my meeting early. I can’t track your phone here, and you know how much I hate not knowing where you are.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
Milo and Raven drew dramatic conclusions if I didn’t respond within five freaking minutes. The only times they backed off was whenever I was left to be supervised by the other.
Using my thumb, I pointed over my shoulder at the bathroom. “Phones aren’t conducive during a relaxing bubble bath.”
“Bubble bath?” he echoed, seemingly unsatisfied with the explanation.
“Yes.” I scowled at my reflection in the mirror, chastising myself for not coming up with a better excuse. How Brandon managed to rattle me so quickly was beyond my comprehension. “I fell asleep in the tub. That’s why I didn’t respond,” I concluded lamely.
“Fell asleep?” Milo strolled closer and laid his palm flat on my forehead. “That could be a sign of fever. There’s a virus going around.”
I pulled his hand down with a half-smile. “I’m fine.”
My heart lurched at his concern. If Milo thought I was sick, he’d probably fly across the globe to bring me soup. He was always doing stuff like that. Took care of me before he was old enough to take care of himself.
Milo was only eight when Mom took a nosedive into Postpartum. Dad worked all the time and simply hired a nanny to fill in the gap Mom had left.
I hated nannies, escalating my attachment to Milo. From what I heard, it started with small acts like changing my diapers and feeding me. Soon, I didn’t want to be separated from him, and he never forced me even though it cost him his own childhood.
Milo always put me first. Parents were supposed to do that, not brothers. He didn’t ask for this, it wasn’t his responsibility, yet he never complained.
Even on days he was too exhausted, Milo never failed to help me with my homework or read me a book at bedtime. We were rich now, but when we were growing up, there had been struggles with money to keep up the façade of a lifestyle Dad had built. Yet, Milo shielded me from it all and never left me wanting for anything.
Fuck. I am the shittiest person on this earth.
There was only one person I could have fucked to hurt Milo, and I did it. It wasn’t only because they had been friends their entire lives or because Brandon watched me grow up. Milo also lacked a certain respect for Brandon.
Milo was the golden boy—responsible, courteous, admirable. Never did drugs, hated tattoos, stayed within the lines, didn’t even so much as indulge in an unconventional haircut. He was the kind of man who stopped to help old ladies cross the street.
Brandon was the polar opposite—brooding, tatted-up bad boy—who honked if old ladies didn’t move their asses fast enough.
They were oil and water. If they didn’t grow up together, I very much doubted they’d be friends today.
I resumed brushing my hair, but my hands shook uncontrollably. My shoulders tensed when Milo noticed it as well.
I can’t do this.
I couldn’t keep my emotions in check for two more days with Brandon in the same hotel, a walking reminder of what I had done. I felt sullen and disappointed in myself, and the last person I could face right now was my hero.
When I glanced back at his reflection, I found Milo marching toward the adjoining door of our two rooms. He was busy fiddling with his phone. Milo forgot to open the door leading to his room in his absentmindedness, his hand hovering over the knob as he finished typing out an email.
“Milo...” I hesitated.
“Hmm?” he asked, eyes still on his phone.
“I was thinking of returning to Paris tomorrow morning.”
Milo’s demeanor shifted. Just the slightest alteration in body language, the way his knuckles were whitening against the door handle, and the way his shoulders tensed.
“I thought you were spending a few more days with me. I’m traveling non-stop after this trip and won’t see you for a few months.”
It wasn’t a rebuttal but a statement to outline his unspoken thoughts. I asked to return to Paris, but all he heard was that I’d rather spend my vacation with Raven.
