Over a dozen sheets torn from my sketchbook lie scattered on the bed. Hasty but immediately recognizable charcoal renderings stare back at me of Elodie Devine’s face, hair, back, her bare ass...
Shame scorches through my veins. I snatch at every paper within reach and heave myself up to gather the rest.
In my furor, they crumple between my fingers.
Footsteps creak on the other side of the door—Asher heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. The tension around my lungs clenches tighter.
If anyone saw this—the school administration, my brother?—
A more distant memory flickers behind my eyes: walking into the garage at our old house and finding my parents scrambling amid a mess of plastic baggies and vials, leaves and seed pods littering the folding table.
“It’s not what it looks like,”Dad said, too fast, but in their case, the cliche was true. Their situation was actually much worse than it looked.
Asher will never have to know that. And he never has to know about the manic lust that possessed me yesterday.
I stuff the papers into my trash bin, resolving to burn them as soon as I can without my brother noticing and wondering why.
Our parents failed epically at parenting, so it’s my job to make sure he never has to worry about anything except his own future.
I approach the kitchen to find Asher doling out eggs onto two plates. He’s made mine hard-boiled the way I prefer. His gleams sunny-side-up. The crisp, doughy scent of toasted bread wafts into the air with the chime of the toaster.
More shame clogs my throat. “You didn’t need to do this.”
Asher shrugs and shoots me a smile that looks a little tighter than usual. “I couldn’t make dinner for you last night, so I figured we could at least have a good breakfast.”
Where the hell did my little brother get the idea that he needs to look afterme?
It’ll only hurt his feelings to complain now that he’s done, though. I pour my coffee out of the pot he already brewed and sit in my usual spot.
Asher stays standing, his eyes unusually dark under the fall of his light brown hair. His hands squeeze the top of his chair.
“Yesterday,” he says abruptly. “What did you say to Elodie after class? She shouldn’t be punished just for making up a reading.”
Anger flares beneath my shame, reminding me of why I hauled the defiant brat into my office in the first place.
Why shouldhecare what happened to her? She’s been nothing but a little shit to him for the past two weeks.
My voice turns clipped. “She used a classroom exercise to carry out a personal vendetta. Of course that requires consequences.”
Asher’s shoulders go rigid. “You know everyone hates those sessions.Youhate those sessions.”
“And yet they’re required by the academy, and everyone else has managed to do them without spewing malicious lies. Why are you defending her? She was trying to hurtyou.”
Unless she was telling the truth that I was her only target. I find that hard to believe.
Asher shakes his head with a short jerk. “I don’t think she was. I think... I saw something in her ephemera... It was hard to follow, but I’m pretty sure she’s dealing with something serious right now. It doesn’t seem right to pile more problems on her.”
My anger transforms into something with teeth, bared and ready to bite. “What kind of something serious?”
Who’s fucking with Elodie, and how quickly can I tear out their throat?
At the vehemence in my tone, Asher’s gaze twitches. “I—I don’t know. I can just tell she’s got a lot going on. So maybe go a little easier on her than usual?”
I clench my jaw. Of course it’s nothing but his instinctive sympathies turning her into a victim.
Asher just can’t help himself from chasing after every wounded stray he catches sight of, real or imaginary.
Why the hell amIgetting so worked up over the idea of Elodie in trouble? Haven’t I been the one giving her the worst trouble she’s probably faced recently?
