“You think this is about sex?” he snarls in my face, and his breath makes me want to vomit. How did my angel let him kiss her with that rank ass shit happening in his mouth?
“Well . . . I mean . . .” Fuck. Shit. I swallow. “Partially? Maybe? Probably? I don’t know, man. You’re the one who started this. You picked her. I’m just backing your play like brothers do. You’re the one making it all complicated and shit! Does she even know about Cecilia?”
Mas grabs his hair, pacing now. So, he didn’t tell her yet. Well, now who’s fucking shit up?
“You don’t get it. You never get it.”
That hits harder than his punch. We’re close. Too close, some say. Like that fuck Darko Dommy, but what does his grumpy ass know? His family is totally fucked, from what I hear from the guys. My family is perfect, close, and awesome. I know everything about my brother, but even I don’t know what cheap shot he’s getting in or why.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
He stops again. Doesn’t turn around. Just stands there, his shoulders tight, fists tight, everything tight.
“You treat everything like a game.” He sighs, sounding like a woman giving birth or something. “Like a joke. Like nothing matters. Like, your actions don’t hurt people. But they can, and you will. The shit you say pushes her away. She’s just going to go back to her life and cut us out.”
My windpipe closes. My ears clog, and I suck up the snot in my throat to clear both.
“What . . . what do you mean ‘cut us out’?” I ask, confused and defensive because hello, I’m too delightful to push anyone away, especially my hot angel who fell from Puerto Rican heaven. If I ever meet her parents, I’m thanking them for making that masterpiece.
Mas finally turns. His eyes are all glassy. Not crying. He’d stab me before crying, but close.
“You don’t listen. Not to me. Not to her. Not even to Ryan, who’s literally dedicated to your healing.” I’m not that bad. Ryan and I just bullshit back and forth, but I eventually end up listening to half of what he says. Nah, maybe less than that. “You bulldoze. You joke so you don’t have to feel anything real. And when someone actually does like you, you ruin it by forcing too much too fast.”
Weirdly, I feel that one in my bones. My ribs hurt. My cast hurts. My dick hurts from post-sex sadness.
“I didn’t?—”
“You did.”
His voice cracks, about to cry. It’s the crack that kills me. Massimo never cracks. Shit. Something terrible slides through my body. I think it’s worry or fear. It’s odd and new, and I don’t really feel it. I don’t like it.
“And we’re going to lose her if you don’t stop.”
“Bro . . .” My voice drops, real quiet. “You think she’s gonna leave us?”
He doesn’t answer. That’s the worst damn answer of all. I wobble to the bed and sit. My cast sticks straight out like shooting the bird at me. I might even deserve it this time.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I mumble, staring at the line of dirt where my cast ends by my toes. It’s sort of gross, but Ryan said it happens to everyone. “I just . . . I don’t know. I said stuff. I say lots of stuff. And she was moaning, and I was moaning, and I didn’t want it to end. So yeah, I said what I felt.”
Mas pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It felt right to you. Not to her.”
I swallow hard. Paco waddles into the room because he loves me and knows I’m emotionally dying and in need of my support animal. But he immediately trots to Mas.
To my brother.
The betrayal hits me like a Mac truck.
“Wow,” I whisper, dramatic as hell. “Even our son hates me.”
Mas rolls his eyes. “He’s not your son.”
Paco barks at me. As if he’s siding with my brother. Damn, everyone hates me.
“Yeah, okay, I get it,” I grumble. “Fine. You hate me, Paco. Everyone hates me. I’m the villain. The Joker in this story, but I am better looking than Heath Ledger. Blah blah. Doesn’t matter, little dude. My own brother hates me more than my own son.”
He exhales, the towel now around his waist, while my dick is softer than an old grandma’s tit. Sticky and stuck to my leg. He flops down by me. Exhales loudly but not on purpose. More sad or mad or both.
