“Are you looking for advice because I’m the last person?—”
“I’d call Marshall if I wanted advice,” I interrupted, which earned me a sharp laugh.
“I should be offended, I think,” Finn muttered. Somewhere behind him, a door slammed closed. “But I don’t have grounds for it today.”
“Everything good with you?”
“Peachy,” he answered, sarcasm dripping off every syllable. “Do you want me to come over?”
“Already too tired of your pretty pink office to have me over?” I teased.
“I’ll see you eventually.”
The eyeroll was loud enough for me to hear, even over the beep of the call being disconnected. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I dropped my head back to stare up at the ceiling. I still held my phone, and it would have been so easy to call Lincoln, to ask what he and Smith were up to, to ask the name of his new fish, to make him tell me again that he loved me.
Love was such a foreign concept for me, at least romantically. It had been years since I’d even entertained the idea, and not for lack of wanting, just lack of trying. All of my brothers had been single for so long, wrapped up with careers and legacies, there hadn’t been much time for anything serious to develop. I’d been perfectly content taking orgasms from the random men who paid for them, but now that I had Lincoln, everything I’d enjoyed before him felt lacking to me.
I imagined it had been the same way with Marshall and Silas at first. What an odd experience to not even realize how empty your life was until someone came along and filled a hole you’d never even been aware of. That was how I felt about Lincoln, and maybe it was fast, maybe it was wrong… He was so confused about who he was separate of Silas and who he was apart from being dominant. I worried he was using me—even unintentionally—to work through the mess in his own brain, andthat once he figured out which way was up, he wouldn’t want me anymore.
He said he was in love with you, my brain helpfully reminded me, but my heart still fought against it, terrified somehow of the notion. Any other man would have been scared of the comfort I found from being on my knees in front of Silas, but that was truly where I felt the most at home. I had no problem having him kneel for me when it suited him either, even though I was starting to think he really only craved it because he was chasing after the feeling of being cared for, which I could do even if we were standing eye to eye.
I would prove it to him.
To myself.
A loud and annoying knock on my door announced Finn’s arrival, and when I opened it to let him in, my brother stood on my front mat, looking less put together than I could remember ever seeing him. His normally styled hair was loose around his face like it had started coiffed and come apart after having too many hands run through it. There were bags under his eyes and scruff on his jaw that looked like it had been there longer than the day. He was still dressed for work, slacks and a button-up, but he’d managed to get the cuffs undone, though not rolled.
“You look horrible,” I greeted, and he narrowed his eyes at me, pushing past me into my apartment.
He was quick to make himself at home on my couch, kicking off his Oxfords before propping his feet up on the edge of my table and letting his head fall against the back of the couch.
“I look like I need a drink,” he said.
“I guess you’re in the right place or something,” I cracked, even though I could tell he wasn’t up for it.
I closed and locked the door, then headed into the kitchen to get him some whiskey. I poured myself a vodka and soda, then joined him on the couch, mirroring his pose.
“Are you sure you’re not the one who should have called Marshall?” I knocked my elbow into the outside of his arm, and he took it as a signal to lift his glass and take a drink.
“Marshall would not be impressed with my most recent life choices.” Finn sucked his tongue across the front of his teeth…just like Marshall.
“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as masquerading as an escort on a hookup app and accidentally getting into a relationship with a client.”
My brother made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “That would be a story.”
“I know,” I agreed.
“But no, it’s worse.”
I stared down the length of our legs, straight down to our sock-covered toes. Finn and I were so much alike and so different at the same time. And still, nobody knew me better than him. Tension knotted together in my shoulders, guilt over letting him think all my jokes about hooking up with men for money were just that…jokes. I’d convinced myself it was okay to have secrets sometimes, especially if they weren’t hurting anybody, but when it came to Finn, I felt the worst about it.
“How is it worse?” I asked instead of coming clean.
“You’re going to laugh.”
“Probably.”
Finn took a healthy drink of his whiskey and sighed. This was so often the way of things with us, one of us needing something and the other needing something different at the same time. I’d called Finn because I didn’t want to be alone with my brain about Lincoln and his admission, but Finn had clearly needed me to work through something with him as well. It was a give and take, a balance…
