BLAIR
My body is pleasantlysore as I lie silent and unmoving beside Logan. His soft breathing is the only sound in the room. It should be peaceful, but my mind is a chaotic mess. Even if I wanted to fall asleep right now, I couldn’t.
Glancing at my phone, I inwardly groan when I see it’s two a.m. I’m supposed to pick Reed up from his friend’s house at seven. That gives me five hours to get home, shower, and try to get at least a little bit of sleep. After all, we have a long drive to our new home. I can’t fall asleep at the wheel. It’s not like Reed’s old enough to take a turn driving so I can rest.
Exhaustion riding me hard, I allow myself one last lingering look at the Viking who rocked my world, taking a mental snapshot. Tonight was out of character for me, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. That was easily the best sex of my life. Good enough that a very small part of me considers waking the man up and asking for his last name and phone number.
But I don’t. And I won’t. There would be no point. He’s here in Los Angeles, and in just over five hours, I won’t be. The thought has my stomach twisting. We have no future. And evenas lonely as I am, I’m not an idiot. The man sleeping beside me doesn’t do relationships. Even if he hadn’t said as much, the truth of it is painfully clear.
Moving slowly and silently, I slip from the bed and pull on my clothes. Logan doesn’t so much as twitch. With my heels in my hand, I hold my breath as I open the hotel room door and tiptoe into the hall. I don’t dare breathe again until the door has clicked quietly closed. And only when I’m waiting for the elevator do I slide my feet into my shoes.
I’ve never fled a man’s room in the middle of the night after hours of earth-shattering sex. Not sure I ever will again. As enjoyable as tonight was, something about what I’m doing now feels dirty. What would my mom think if she could see me now?
“He would have done the same thing if you gave him the chance,” I tell my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. I look thoroughly fucked and disheveled. Nothing I do tames my hair or fixes my makeup enough to hide the evidence of what Logan and I got up to in his room.
But I’m leaving LA. I never have to see any of these people again.
So when the elevator door slides open, I ignore the churning in my stomach, lift my chin, throw my shoulders back, and ask the concierge to call a cab for me. I do my best to act like none of this makes me uncomfortable.
I almost believe my own lies by the time I get home and stagger into bed. A blond sex god consumes my thoughts as my eyes close and sleep takes me.
Almost, but not quite.
“How was your sleepover?”I ask Reed when I pick him up after a few hours of deep sleep.
My brother scowls, his face set in the sullen mask of a teenager who’s angry at the world. It’s how he looks far too often these days. And I get it. I do. He has plenty to be angry about. Doesn’t make being the object of his anger any easier.
“Fine,” he grumbles as he shoves past me and out into the warm morning air. My chest constricts, and I try not to react. His friend’s mom offers me a sympathetic wince. It’s the kind of look that would make me feel less alone if I were Reed’s mom and not his older sister. But the woman is my parents’ age, and it reeks of pity more than solidarity.
“Thanks for having him,” I say to her.
“Of course.” She smiles. “We’ll miss Reed. Have a safe trip. Let us know when you get there. And if you ever need help or someone to talk to…” David’s mom lets the offer hang in the air. It’s sweet but empty. I’ve grown quite adept at recognizing them after burying our mom and dad. Everyone wants to feel like they’ve done their good deed by voicing some vague offer of aid they’ll never follow through on. It helps them sleep at night. They extended an olive branch to the orphans.
“Thanks.” I no longer let myself feel the hopeless frustration these kinds of offers used to bring. My brother yanks the passenger door of my car open and flops inside without another look in our direction. “I know Reed will miss your family.”
We exchange another awkward goodbye, then I drag my tired feet to my car and join Reed. He doesn’t say anything as I reverse out of their driveway. Just stares out his window and watches the only home we’ve ever known pass us by for the last time.
A lump clogs my throat as we leave the city limits. “This will be good,” I say to myself more than Reed. “A fresh start will be good for both of us.”
“Bullshit,” Reed snarls. “How will moving across the country to a place where we don’t know a single person be good for either of us? Away from Mom and Dad.”
My chest constricts. “That’s not them anymore. Not really. It hasn’t been for a long time.”
“I hate you.”
Reed’s body is still facing the window, so he doesn’t see me flinch. It’s not the first time he’s told me he hates me since I informed him I’d taken a job across the country and that we’d be moving. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.
He’s angry and scared. I get that. But so am I. I’m fucking terrified. I have been since our parents died and I became my little brother’s only parental figure. It’s not like I chose any of this. I’m doing my best, I really am. My best just doesn’t seem to be good enough.
“It’s going to be okay, Reed.” I reach across the armrest and squeeze his hand. He jerks it away, pulls out his phone, puts earbuds in his ears, and blasts his go-to angry-teenager playlist. When he turns his face toward the window and closes his eyes, I let a few tears fall.
Is this what I was like at his age? Sullen and disrespectful? I can’t remember. My own childhood feels like such a distant memory, I can hardly access it.
“Sorry, Mom,” I whisper to her ghost.
Like always, she doesn’t answer.
The hours tick by slowly. Reed doesn’t speak a word to me, except to grunt out his order when we stop for lunch at a drive-through. When I’ve run through my endless list of to-dos half a dozen times, my mind wanders. And when I shift in my seat and my pussy twinges, Logan’s handsome face fills my head.
