Collins
“BACON ME, BUG.”
Creed is sifting through his box of goodies for Riley inside in the living room when Asher strolls out onto the back patio, looking a lot more well rested than I do. Much like Riley, I’m still plagued by nightmares more often than not, and they have me waking up in a cold sweat most nights.
I’m flipping bacon on the outdoor skillet when he sidles up next to me and swipes a crispy slice from a plate.
“Morning,” he mumbles around a bite.
“Morning, Ash.” I glance at him just as he stretches, and when his arms settle, his t-shirt has shifted to expose a brand new, deep purple hickey on the side of his neck. I smirk when he makes no move to cover it, but it doesn’t stop him from blushing more fiercely than I thought possible for my big brother. “Sleep well?” I tease.
“Mhmm,” he hums noncommittally, clearing his throat and snagging more bacon off the plate. “Like a baby. You?”
“I slept okay,” I answer honestly, turning to face Asher after adding more slices to the hotplate. “Much better now that Riley’s home and we’re all under the same roof again.”
“Does he hate you?” he asks, and I rear back at the question.
“Excuse me?”
Ash just scoffs as he crosses his thick arms over his equally thick chest. I’m still flabbergasted over the fact that my brother looks like a literal hulk these days. “You said in the hospital that you were worried he’d come home and want nothing to do with you. Worried that he’d grow to hate you.”
He glances through the floor-to-ceiling windows as if he can see the people inside through the reflective coating. “He’s been home a few days now. Does it feel like he hates you?”
Asher’s right. I’d been sick over the fear that Riley would resent me for becoming another victim of Guy’s gruesome cruelty. But all of that fear vanished in an instant the moment I locked eyes with him in that parking lot. I still feel the guilt of what I’d done to him every time I look at his scars, though. That festering, gnawing feeling that eats at me, the endless taunt that says he’d still be living this perfect, unblemished life with Creed had I not taken them up on traveling with them. They’ve lost time. Fans. Money. Concerts.
His and Creed’s lives were entirely upheaved because of me. All because I couldn’t outrun the monster of my past.
“Where’d you go, Bug?” Asher’s voice, paired with his large hand waving a piece of bacon in front of my face, snaps me out of the stupor that my brain was sucked into.
My brother looks me over, analyzing every part of my face and reads me well enough before I have time to try and school my expression. He chomps down on the slice and waves the bacon nub at me. “Don’t do that.”
I snatch it from his hands, eating the last bite in an attempt to distract myself. “Do what?”
He turns and heads for the lounge chair next to the pool. “You think I can’t tell when my sister is doing that thing she always does?”
“What thing?”
“Collins.”
“Asher.”
“That thing, you know?” He lazily gestures at me with his entire arm, “The one where you seem to take on all the responsibility for other peoples’ actions. Where you make yourself smaller to mask your pain, if only it gives them a moment of peace.”
I turn back to the bacon, not wanting my brother to see just how on-the-nose his observation is. “I don’t do that,” I mutter under my breath, but I know it’s a lie.
“You do, and it’s not necessary, Collins. You’re not to blame. No-fucking-body hates you. My own best friend loves you more than he loves me, so stop it. Bacon me.”
I roll my eyes and throw a piece at him over my shoulder, not caring if he catches it. He curses as it hits the ground, but when I hear the familiar crispy crunching sound, I shake my head. Asher’s hardened over the years, and he definitely doesn’t sugarcoat things like he did when I was just a kid. Yet his words bring me an immense amount of comfort anyway.
It doesn’t stop me from continuing my stewing session, though, because what self-respecting sister just takes her brother’s truths for what they are?
Creed’s distinct belly laughter booming that can be heard through the house makes me feel a little lighter. I had been clinging to the high of the moment the three of us shared earlier, but then my own thoughts soured my mood. As if to prove my brother’s point, their happiness eases my fear and anxiety.
Once the bacon is done, I scrape off some of the excess grease and pour the scrambled eggs onto the skillet. Asher’s phone dings with an incoming text, and the next thing I know, he’s sputtering on air. Coughing and beating on his chest like he’s legitimately choking, even though he polished off his last slice of bacon several minutes ago. I turn around to check on him only to find his phone on the ground, lit up and a zoomed in. A shirtlessselfie of who I assume to be Blair, as I recognize some of his tattoos, has my cheeks heating. It’s not because Blair is shirtless, he walks around as such all the time, but it’s because Iknowthat the image is intentionally zoomed in…just not on the part intended for Asher to see.
Blair sent Asher a dick pic.
I spin around, busying myself with the eggs to hide my mortification.
