It’d been…years since I’d seen her and yet, she felt like a hot iron pressed to my skin. Like a scar that had never healed.
My gaze trailed over the black ink covering most of my torso and upper arms. These were my own marks. Something that I had control of. My own way to cope with all the misery I withstood.
The small, geometric firefly nestled within the tangle of black linework on my right shoulder caught my eye. My jaw clenched. The memorial tattoo for my sister brought her to the front of my mind. Thea would’ve loved to see Skye. She would’ve hugged her like nothing had changed. As if Skye hadn’t disappeared from our lives for years.
But Thea was gone.
I pressed the towel harder against my knuckles, focusing on the stinging, burning pain.
I didn’t want to think about Skye. I didn’t want to remember the way she used to smile at me when no one else was looking, or the way she whispered I love you, like the words were only ever meant for me.
I wanted to be angry.
Hell, Iwasangry.
The door creaked behind me, and I turned as August stepped in. The gym had been added on to the Hearthstone Security office building for all of us brothers to use when we needed it. I wasn’t surprised to see him, but I couldn’t say his presence was welcome at the moment.
My twin brother’s stare moved to the bloody towel in my hands. I was probably the only one who’d notice the shift in his expression. The tightness around his mouth. The way his spine went rigid. He was worried.
Guilt hit me square in the chest.
August looked away, like it was nothing, and walked toward the beverage fridge near the corner. He took out a bottle of water and handed it to me. I took it. The cold felt good in my swollen hand.
As I unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, August glanced at the punching bag.
“Were you beating it, or was it beating you?” His tone was light, but it seemed forced.
When I didn’t answer, he let out a long sigh. “Take a seat,” he commanded, motioning to the weight bench.
“I wasn’t finished.”
His expression sharpened. The ex-marine replaced his usual casualness, demanding obedience. “Sit down.”
I finished the water and squeezed the plastic bottle so hard it crumbled in my fist. “I’m fine, August.” I just wanted to be left alone.
He stepped toward me, glancing at my bloody knuckles. “Should I go tell our mother?”
I stiffened. “You wouldn’t.”
The office building was on our parents’ property, and I knew he was not above running to our overprotective mom.
He pointed back toward the bench. “Sit.”
I rolled my eyes, but relented. “We’re grown men, August. You don’t need to go tattling to Mommy.”
I plopped down on the bench as August grabbed the first-aid kit from a cabinet on the other side of the room.
“I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
I shoved my hands between my knees. Embarrassed and ashamed of them now.
My brother crouched down in front of me and opened the first-aid kit. I didn’t speak as he pulled one of my hands toward him and started to clean out the gashes. He was more careful this time about keeping his expression blank.
“You wanna talk about it?” He wrapped gauze around my knuckles.
“No.”
He remained silent while he bandaged my other hand.
