That’s all Weston says to announce his presence.
And as Rayne and I look over, I keep one hand around Rayne’s waist. Not because I should, but because I feel like I’ll dissolve into a million pieces if I stop touching him.
And because part of me feels like I may never get to touch him like this again.
“Wes,” Rayne says.
But Weston just holds a hand up, shaking his head.
His expression is unreadable. He isn’t freaking out, isn’t pissed. And somehow, that feels even worse than the alternative.
For the first time in years, I purely feel sadness whenI see my brother.
No rage.
No rivalry.
Just a dull ache in my heart, and a useless wish that everything was different.
“You don’t have to explain,” Wes tells Rayne softly, with no malice in his words. “Of course you pick him. Hunter is always everyone’s first choice.”
21
Rayne
In my memory, Weston and I walk home together.
We’re only thirteen.
The power at Mom’s apartment got shut off, because she was only ten dollars short of the bill. The sun’s out, and it’s nearly ninety degrees. There will be no cool air, but for now, I’m fine.
Right now, I’m with my best friend.
When I leave Weston’s house that night, I come home to find a $100 bill with a note attached:
I know you need it. Just take it, ok?
When I decidedto treat Onyx Society, and really all of Crimson College, like I was a king, I always pictured myself as agoodking.
A worthy one.
Beloved, and respectful of the crown and all the responsibility it comes with.
But a crown means nothing if your most trusted friend isn’t there.
If he’s broken inside, and it’s all your fault.
When Weston sees us, it’s more than a Band-Aid being ripped off.
He doesn’t even fight his brother.
He looks like he’sgiven up.
Like the rug is pulled from under him, and suddenly, he doesn’t know where to land.
And I decide, right then, that there can be no half-measures.
Weston is hurt.
