A dalliance.
A rebellion.
“Callahan was not like that for me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Alright.” Sebastian said gently, moving onto the couch since he’d finished the crackers. He patted the cushion beside him. “Alright.”
“You never answered my question.”
“I told you I didn’t have control over falling in love with Remington,” Sebastian said. “I met him—I loved him.”
“And loving him makes you happy?”
“Would you fucking sit down, Rhys?” Sebastian reached out and grabbed Rhys by the wrist, pulling him down onto the couch. “Yes, loving Remington makes me happy. Being lovedbyhim makes me happy.”
Rhys wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. Or rather, he very much liked it for his brother, but he wasn’t sure he liked it for himself. Love sounded like a risk and happiness sounded like a side effect. He wasn’t convinced that one was worth the other, even with Remington and Sebastian in front of him as proof. Even with Callahan and Jace.
“I don’t like it,” he grumbled.
“I know. It goes against your nature.”
“I think I should resent that.”
“You’re defensive, Rhys.” Sebastian moved and laid his head down on Rhys’s lap, another sick day throwback that was like a sharp, burning memory in the forefront of Rhys’s mind. “And offensive at the same time. Doesn’t it get exhausting?”
Sebastian leaned forward and pressed play on the remote, not waiting for Rhys’s answer. Because they both already knew it was a loud and resounding yes.
CHAPTERSIX
BECKETT DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIS HANDS
Beckett leaned against the wall in the back of La Creperie while he waited for Heather to sort out his paycheck. It didn’t surprise him that there was a delay with his deposit, owing to the thousand dollar tip he’d gotten over the weekend, but he was still annoyed.
“The payroll company didn’t want to direct deposit it,” she explained, pulling out a plain white envelope with his name showing through the window. “At least not until we could verify the validity of the amount.”
“Is it so hard to believe I had a big tipper?” He snatched the envelope out of her hand and peeled it open, his eyes doubling in size when he saw the total.
“There’s big tips and then there’s fraud.”
“Jesus.” He folded the check and shoved it into his pocket, narrowing his eyes at his bitch of a boss. “I’ve worked here for two years, and you never had any issues with me until I was out because of an abscessed mouth infection. How long are you going to hold it against me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Beckett.” Heather’s face indicated she definitely knew what he was talking about.
“Of course.”
“See you on Tuesday.” She gave him a sickeningly fake smile and he mirrored it back, spinning on his heel and stomping out of her office. He stalked back through the restaurant offering Hunter a wave on his way out. He wasn’t paying attention and he ran head first into someone he hoped was a co-worker and not a customer. One deep breath later and he knew better.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, raising his hands and stopping barely an inch away from patting Rhys St. George’s chest to make sure he was still in one piece. Of course he was still in one piece. Beckett got the impression it would take a lot of work to knock Rhys off his game. Whatever his game was.
“You’re all right,” Rhys said quietly, so low that Beckett was sure he was the only person who could hear.
“I should have watched where I was going,” Beckett apologized. “I need to get to the bank before they close. Are you here for brunch again?”
Rhys scrunched his nose, the expression almost completely out of place on a face as elegant as his. “What? No.”
“Oh.” Beckett stepped to the side and shoved his hands into his pockets so he didn’t do something stupid with them like fire off some awkward and obviously bisexual finger guns.
Pew pew.
