“I’m fine. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” I nod and place the glass I used in the dishwasher before turning on my phone’s flashlight again and switching the light in the kitchen off. When we walk by the living room, I peek inside, slowing my steps. “Wanna snoop?” Saylor asks, amused.
I was here twice before but never really had the time or nerves to look around. There isn’t much decoration-wise, like the rest of the house, but picture frames are lined over the fireplace.
I let my phone’s light pass over the first one, an older, friendly looking couple with gray hair smiling at the camera. “My parents,” Saylor states from beside me. “They’re living far deeper into the country now. I heard they couldn’t stand livingso close to the ocean anymore after everything happened. I haven’t seen them in ages.”
I furrow my brows at him. People all grieve in their own way. I get that they needed distance. But why can he hang around his brothers but not his parents? It doesn’t make sense.
The next picture is one of a young North and the drowned woman. I barely recognized her. She was a damn beauty, alive and happy, with a big smile, full lips and light blue eyes. There are freckles on her nose, and long blonde hair falls over her shoulders in waves. No wonder North told me there were better ones than me.
I could never compete with her.
“That’s Jessica, North’s wife and Lio’s mom, obviously.”
Jessica. That’s your name.
I want to ask more about her, but Saylor points out the next picture. It’s one of all the Jones boys together, and I take it from the fireplace to examine it more closely just as the light goes on, and I turn to find a sleepy-looking Hunter in the doorway.
“Hey, you all right?” he asks gruffly, rubbing his eyes.
He’s an adorable mess, his hair wild, wearing dark sleep pants and a white T-shirt, and it’s seriously doing things for me.
For fuck’s sake, Sloan, you just slept with his brother.
His sleepy eyes stay on Saylor’s hoodie I’m wearing, frowning, and my blood freezes in my veins. But after a few seconds, his eyes find mine with a neutral expression, so I just answer his question. “Sure, sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” I mumble while he walks over to my side, halting my hand as I’m about to place the picture frame back up.
“Nash looks like a dork in this. He hates this picture so much. The whole reason we keep it up there.” He smiles down at the frame, and I finally look at it more closely.
Nash stands beside North, looking as attractive as ever but somehow slightly different.
“Why do you say that?” I question, frowning as he points to the other side of the picture, where a much younger version of Nash stands beside Saylor, who has his arm around Nash’s shoulders.
Nash’s hair is much longer, coming down to his shoulders, and he’s wearing a red cap. He even has braces in the photo and a face full of acne.
“Yep, that’s who you just fucked,again,” Saylor mutters from my other side, and I have to stifle a laugh.
“I know, it’s hilarious, right? Our little playboy was a late bloomer.” Hunter chuckles, and I look more closely at the guy I first thought was Nash.
“That’s… you?” I ask, looking up at Hunter.
He gives me a forced smile. “I know, where Nash got hotter, I got?—”
“Way more handsome,” I interrupt, looking at the picture. Hunter was undoubtedly hot, but I find the current version of Hunter standing next to me even more appealing.
The silence stretches, and I look up at Hunter again, finding his gaze already fixed on me, his eyes wide. “You… you think so?” he asks, sounding unsure.
I smile at him, my cheeks turning red. “I do,” I reply, scrambling to change the subject. “And North looks like he hasn’t got a broom up his ass.”
Hunter bursts out laughing, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle it.
“Oh my God, you’re right,” Saylor presses out between chuckles, leaning in closer to have a better look at the picture, his side touching mine, causing the prickling sensation to start again, making me shudder slightly.
Once Hunter recovers, he gets more serious. “He wasn’t always the way he is now. There was a lot that made him like that. All of us.”
“True,” Saylor breathes out, and the weight of sadness presses heavily on us.
My thumb glides over Saylor’s face, and Hunter notices. “That’s Saylor. He’s my other little brother. North is the oldest. He’s thirty-five now. I’m thirty-three, Saylor is…” Hunter looks thoughtful, furrowing his brows, but then continues, “… thirty, and Nash is the baby at twenty-five.”
“Even he thinks you’re fucking the baby brother,” Saylor mutters, and I shoot him a quick glare. “Fine, I’ll stop now,” he relents, rolling his eyes.
