“I’m twenty-fucking-three, Kev, and I know how to use a cell phone. There’s this thing called Uber, and—”
“Always such a fucking smartass,” my brother replies. “Excuse me for being concerned when you call me late at night after not hearing from you in months.”
A pang of remorse hits me in the chest. I should probably apologize for that.
But I won’t.
“You wanna help me out or not?” I ask.
A heavy sigh filters down the line before he says, “Always, brother. What do you need?”
Emotion clogs my throat at his words, and a part of me wishes I had told Keven. Out of all my brothers, I think he’s the one I came closest to confiding in. Then I remember he was at Harvard, and he barely came home because he was pissed at my parents, and he wasn’t there for me, just like everyone else. All too wrapped up in their own problems to see I was fucking drowning, right in front of them.
I squeeze my eyes closed, and the same intense pressure sits on my chest, making breathing difficult.
“Kent? What’s wrong? You need me to come over?”
“No,” I grit out, pulling myself together. “I was wondering if you could check up on someone for me.”
“What trouble are you in now?” His voice sounds resigned.
Anger rushes to the surface. “Why the fuck does everyone jump to that conclusion all the time?” I shout, pacing the floor.
“Calm the fuck down, Kent, and just tell me what’s going on. I left my wife naked in bed, and I’d really like to get to the point.”
I hang up on him, tossing my phone across the room in a fit of rage. Fuck him. Selfish prick.
Turning the sound system on, I raise the volume, blaring heavy metal, not giving a shit if the neighbors call the cops. Our apartment is on the top floor of the building, and while the other residents are professionals, this part of Cambridge is full of students, so parties and loud music aren’t exactly uncommon. Still, it’s been a couple of years since this place has been party central.
Keanu and I bought it the summer before our sophomore year, and we partied hard for a while. Until Selena came back to my brother. After she moved in, I put a stop to all the partying because she was dealing with a huge amount of serious shit, and being around that scene wasn’t helping her heal.
Finding out what happened to Selena had a profound impact on me, and things settled down for a while. Until…
“Fuck.” I grab handfuls of my hair, dropping to my knees. I can’t think about that now. I drain my beer as if it’s water, returning to the fridge to snatch another one. Then I grab a joint from my room, light it up, and lie back on the couch, nodding my head in time to the music, as I let the effects wash over me, numbing me to all painful memories.
Closing my eyes, I picture Presley. That vivid spark in her gorgeous big brown eyes. How tempting her plump lips look when she’s mouthing off at me. The determined set to her jaw, as she puts me in my place, that cranks my arousal to new heights. All that thick, long, gorgeous dark hair I imagine fisting in my hand while I—
The music cuts off abruptly, and I bolt upright, startled, my heart racing as adrenaline floods my system.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Kent,” Kev says, staring at me like I’m an imbecile. “There are noise ordinance laws in effect from eleven. Your neighbors could lodge a complaint for disturbing the peace.”
“Do I look like I give a fuck?” I flop back down, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing.
“Do you give a fuck about anything, Kent?” Keven asks, sinking onto the end of the couch.
I give a fuck about a lot of things, but it’s telling he doesn’t know.
“Why are you here?” I ask, sitting up and swinging my legs to the floor. Swiping my half-empty bottle, I chug a few mouthfuls of warm beer.
“You hung up on me, you little prick.” Kev rubs the back of his neck. “And you didn’t answer when I called you about a hundred times, so I thought I’d come over and see if you were okay.”
“How’d you get in?”
“I still have a key from when I organized the security system. Guess I forgot to return it to Keanu.”
“You didn’t need to come all the way over here.” While traffic is minimal at this hour of night, it must’ve taken Kev at least thirty-five minutes to drive from Chelsea to Cambridge.
“Well, I’m here now, so you might as well tell me what’s up.”
