Yoss cleared his throat again. “His name is Bu—uh, Bradley Sloan.”
Bradley Sloan.
It was such an ordinary name for such a strange boy.
“Bradley Sloan?” Louise asked and Yoss nodded.
“There was someone here only a few minutes ago looking for a Bradley Sloan. Says he’s his brother too,” Louise said, her eyebrows rising in suspicion.
“Oh, really. I guess our other brother beat me here,” Yoss responded airily, but I wasn’t sure Louise was buying it.
“Well he’s over there. Maybe you should go have a chat with yourbrotherfirst.” Louise pointed out a tall slender guy, not much older than we were, leaning against the wall.
“Okay. Yeah. That’s a good idea. But Bradley is here, right?” Yoss asked.
Louise pursed her lips and turned back to her computer, not bothering to answer his question. Clearly she wasn’t fooled by Yoss’s story.
“Bug’s name is Bradley? I had no idea,” I muttered under my breath.
“Yeah, Bug never used his real name. And he sure as shit never wanted to see his brother.” Yoss gritted his teeth and headed towards Bug’s brother.
“Did they not get along?”
“If he did, do you think he would have been sleeping at The Pit?” Yoss asked harshly.
“I’m sorry. I just wondered—”
“He never talked about his family. None of us do. It’s not like you go around telling stories about your mom, Imi,” Yoss went on, his face set in hard, unforgiving lines.
“I only wish I knew more about him,” I said quietly. Yoss didn’t respond. He was lost in his own thoughts. His own feelings. And for the first time in the six months since I had met him, since the time we had started loving each other, I felt disconnected from him.
And that scared me more than anything.
I didn’t know how to help Yoss. He seemed angry and agitated, and as much as I wanted to comfort him, he wouldn’t really let me. I knew he was worried about Bug. We all were. But Yoss took his role as guardian of our friends very seriously. So seriously that I knew his feelings had more to do with guilt than anything else.
“Hi. You’re Bradley’s brother?” Yoss asked once we had reached the older Sloan sibling.
Bug’s brother looked up at us and the family resemblance was startling. He and Bug could have passed for twins. Right down to the bulbous eyes.
“Yeah. Who are you?” he asked, regarding us coolly.
Yoss crossed his arms over his chest. “My name is Yoss. This is Imogen. We’re friends of Bu—Bradley’s. We came to see if he was okay.”
Bug’s brother looked hard at Yoss. Then at me. His cheeks slowly flushed bright red and something heated in his eyes. He took a step towards us in an almost aggressive manner. I took a step back, worried by the expression on his face.
“You’re Brad’s friends, huh?” he demanded, his face only inches from Yoss’s.
Yoss didn’t back down. He faced Bug’s obviously infuriated brother with his own anger. “Yeah, we are. We look out for each other. We’re family. Which is more than I can say for you,” he spat out.
“Yoss, don’t,” I warned softly, sensing Bug’s brother wouldn’t think twice about laying Yoss out in the hospital waiting room.
“Yeah, you’re just the fuckingtrashthat let my brother die,” the other man seethed.
Yoss recoiled instantly and I gripped his arm so tightly that my nails broke skin.
“What?” Yoss whispered, his face incredibly pale.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Bug’s brother said, sounding tired. And maybe not so angry. He was simply a sad man who had lost his brother. It was hard to tell. Grief turned us into people we hardly recognized.
