Page 5 of Faking it with the Damaged Protector

I roll my eyes. Brandon has a tendency to frame things to his advantage. Even at work, he’ll find someone else in his department to blame when I find a problem with his marketing strategies. I love the guy, but he hasn’t grown into his maturity yet; he is still a college student in the athletic body of a thirty-one-year-old.

“She’s going to see it differently and you know it. That’s why you didn’t just tell her when you started dating. And why you didn’t tell me that Chloe is her friend.”

Brandon fluffs up his red-brown hair, looking chagrinned. “I hate it when you get all wise and pragmatic on me, man. You’re starting to show your age.”

“One of us has to.” I motion my head to the house. “Shouldn’t you go check on her?”

“I’m going to leave her to cool down. She’s probably jetlagged as hell, and I don’t want to poke the bear.”

“You’re an idiot. I’m getting another drink.” I wander back into the kitchen, where it’s cooler than in the sun. The first thing I do is check my phone to make sure my Mom’s faring okay. As much as she loves fulfilling her grandmotherly duties, Leo can be a pest and I can’t help but wait for a text summoning me home. He doesn’t like it when I’m not there to put him to bed.

For now, everything seems fine.

I have a few work emails to reply to, and I clench my jaw as I swipe away. Sunday is the only day I ask for people to leave me be, a boundary I had to set when Leo was born, but nobody seems to listen.

I pour myself a new glass and pause when I hear creaking upstairs. I shouldn’t go up there. Madison’s made it clear I’m the last person she wants to talk to, and I’m about as comforting as a brick wall.

But nobody else is checking on her, and that seems cruel. Brandon has stated more than a few times how I can never, not in any circumstances, date his sister despite me showing no clear sign of wanting to. He’d be livid if he was in Madison’s shoes and he knows it.

Asshole.

With a sigh, I give in and tread up the stairs. The happy family photographs are an unwelcome reminder of all the things I didn’t have growing up. With my Dad so focused on the company and my Mom a shrunken version of herself in his presence, there was no room for family days. He didn’t even come to my graduation.

Yet there, Madison’s picture sits on the wall. She’s beaming in her cap and gown, all dimpled cheeks and disarming beauty. Suddenly, being upset about Brandon’s engagement feels superficial. She has no idea how lucky she is to have a kind family, even if her brother can be thoughtless at times.

With that in mind, I head down the landing. I don’t know which bedroom is hers and I’m about to turn back when I see her figure hunched on the bed. My heart stops before the rest of me does. I can’t see her face, her blonde waves curtaining her features, but she rubs at her cheek as though maybe she’s crying.

Without thinking, I step in and close the door.

“Rough day?”

She jumps, craning her neck to look at me. Her face hardens, confirmation that this was a mistake. Yet I’m not leaving.

“What do you want, Roman?”

“I was getting tired of ABBA.” It isn’t a lie. Rebecca, Brandon’s mother, has had the same CD on repeat all day. There are only so many times I can stand to hear “Dancing Queen” before the headache starts.

Madison snorts and picks at a thread on her blanket. Her room is half-empty, luggage piled by her vanity. Her walls are pale pink with a cream carpet and thin curtains rippling against the breeze from outside.

I dare to take a few more steps in. “Bet you wish you stayed in Europe.”

“Right.” The reply is lifeless like it isn’t true at all, but I don’t understand how that can be. Brandon has shown me plenty of pictures of her enjoying the sights: the Leaning Tower of Pisa, gorgeous basilicas, cities steeped in culture and history — and probably a fair share of men she’d like, too, if the French guy she dated in college is anything to go by.

Clearing my throat, I move to sit on her desk chair opposite the bed, finally getting a real view of her. There are no tears. Only anger burns in her syrupy brown gaze, and for once, I don’t think it’s for me.

“Is it really the end of the world, your brother and your best friend?”

She scoffs. “Don’t pretend to understand.”

“I don’t understand.” A lie. I think perhaps I understand too much. I should be on Brandon’s side, but I can’t seem to shake my discomfort. I’ve always respected the love he has for his sister. His actions today seem to go against that.

“Then go away.”

I don’t, instead swiveling on the chair to glance out of the window. The party is still in full swing downstairs, the backyard visible and, beyond it, the sea. I should bring Leo here one weekend. Build sandcastles with him, let him play in the ocean. There just never seems to be enough time.

“For what it’s worth, he feels bad,” I say finally. If I’m going to be here, I should probably help Brandon out.

“He should. He’s a lying jerk. They both are. I don’t understand why nobody told me.”

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