Page 6 of Love Thy Brother
I dumped my head on Nash’s shoulder, fighting the guttural yearning twisting my insides, and my old friend, my brother, held me up, saying nothing, just being the stalwart of comfort and empathy he’d always been.
You don’t deserve his sympathy.
Didn’t I? He had the girl. He hadOrlaand he was living the dream he fucking deserved. Me? I was drowning, and a secret weighed heavy on my heart. A dirty, filthy, terrible secret.His hot tattooed skin and lean muscles danced at my touch. His eyes were closed, molten gaze hidden from me, but he smelled so good, felt so right, I didn’t fucking care—
I sat up abruptly enough to make Nash jump. He frowned, humorous irritation screwing up his handsome face. I gawped back, the weight of my confession swaying me.Tell him. He’ll understand.But, alas, no. I was gonna puke my guts up instead.
Nash read me and ducked out of the way as I sprang from the couch and hightailed it through the bar.
Not his first rodeo.
Or mine. I found me a sink round the back and puked, knowing the ordeal would put me on my arse, but ease the pressure in my skull. It was a sad fact that I knew the cycle inside and out. An even sadder twist of fate that Cam walked in on me as I was putting myself back together.
“The fuck are you doing?”
I turned off the tap. “Cleaning.”
Our fearless leader, and my oldest friend, sent me a dark O’Brian glare. On River, it was sexy as hell. From Cam, it was irritating and the vexed growl that came next made me want to throat punch him.
“You get another migraine?”
I wiped my hands on a bar towel. “If I did, is that anyway to talk to me? Where’s the love, bro?”
“You want a fucking hug?”
Not from him. I flipped him the bird and changed the subject. “What are you doing here? Come to see the boys off?”
Decoy and Mats were hitting the road for a couple of days, leading a convoy of brothers up north to deliver building supplies and custom timber. They’d done it enough that Cam didn’t oversee every voyage anymore, but it wasn’t unheard of for him to show up at launch time. Hell, Cam always showed up for his brothers, one way or another.
This morning, though, as the night turned into a grey winter morning, a damp breeze blowing in from the sea, he shook his head. “Honestly, I’m looking for Alexei. I thought he might come here to meet Saint. Him and Nash are back, right?”
“Nashie’s in the bar. Haven’t seen Saint, but I heard his bike. No sign of Professor Numbers, though.” Not that my ignorance meant anything. Alexei was a ninja. He could be standing on my toes with a knife to my throat before I noticed him, especially when I was distracted by other things.
My temple gave a cheerful throb, fucking delighted with itself.
Cam eyed me. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yup.” I brushed past him and returned to the bar.
Nash was still at the window.
“Saint’s with Liliana,” he said before Cam could ask. “She was up when we got back, and Mats is still loading the wagons.”
Cam absorbed the update with a nod. “That kid doesn’t sleep.”
“Neither does her dad. Hereditary, innit?”
“When is she starting school?”
Nash shrugged, out of answers.
Cam turned to me.
“End of the month,” I supplied. “Alexei invented a Spanish school obscure enough no fucker will check, but he wanted her reading better first. Less questions.”
Cam took a perch on the arm of the old couch. “Did you ever imagine all those years ago that we’d wind up pooling our limited intelligence to homeschool a ten-year-old?”
“Limited intelligence?” I eased myself onto the sagging sofa cushions. “Speak for yourself, mate.”
