Page 27 of Where We Belong

I tap my temple, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry. I got it all up here.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll send you my recording just in case you missed anything,” he says as he punches the elevator button. I resist the urge to grind my teeth in frustration.

“I never forget details. You know that.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna tell me who was texting you while we were in there?”

“What? No one,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

“I know you, Cory. Someone messaged, and you spaced out. What gives?” His eyes bore into me, seeing too much as always.

“That’s—”

“I’m your twin,” he cuts me off sharply. “I know you better than anyone else.”

I clench my jaw, glancing away. “Well, you’re wrong this time,” I lie. Of course, he’s right—a ghost from my past dragged me back to the personal hell I’ve been trying to escape.

If Huxley learns the truth, I’ll never hear the end of it. He’s lectured me for years about forgetting Benedict Farrow. Sure, they’re friends, but Hux wishes he could hate his guts for how he’s hurt me. This is all my fault for giving my heart to someone who clearly doesn’t give two fucks about me.

“Is it that new guy?” Hux prods.

I furrow my brow, feigning confusion. “What new guy?”

Huxley sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Come on. I can tell you’re going through something. It’s not pleasant, you know. I hate when you hurt because I feel it too.” He presses a palm to his chest, his eyes softening with empathy.

“I told you, I’m fine,” I insist, forcing a tight smile.

He grins wryly back. “Yeah, the magic words that tell me things aren’t going well, or Benedict is screwing with you again.”

Finally, the elevator doors open. I sag in relief seeing it crowded, granting us momentary silence during the descent. But the respite ends as we step out into the lobby.

Huxley turns to me, brow furrowed. “I knew cutting him off wouldn’t work. Ben snapped his fingers, and you went running back.”

I bristle, halting in my tracks to glare at him. “It is not like that this time.” My voice rings with conviction.

“He did what Ben does best,” he states. “He fucked up and upset you. You decided to cut all contact, but he snaps his fingers, and you go running back.”

“You’re wrong,” I say firmly, hands clenching.

Huxley comes to a halt, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes bore into mine. “So what exactly happened that’s distracting you and breaking your heart?”

I close my eyes briefly, exhaling, and explain everything—the inn, the texts, all of it leading up to today.

When I open my eyes, Huxley stares at me, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. I can feel the judgment radiating off him.

“Don’t give me that look,” I mumble.

“Explain this kiss again?” he demands.

“What kiss?” I play dumb because why the fuck did I just tell Hux about it?

“You never told me he fucking kissed you. I’m going to mess up his pretty face.” Huxley’s hands ball into fists.

“It was just a little kiss, nothing serious,” I say quickly.

Huxley scoffs. “It was serious if neither of you are over it.”

I sigh, shoulders slumping. “Listen, it was intense, okay? Like nothing I’ve experienced since. But… he backed off right after, apologized, and we never talked about it again.”

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