THIRTY-SIX | TARYN
“My pencil keeps breaking,” Elena whines, tossing the yellow pencil onto the table with as much irritability as a five-year-old can muster. Her pouty lips stick out as she watches the pencil roll across the table and tumble to the floor.
Tristan glances up from his math problems, rolling his eyes. “You keep pressing down too hard.”
“No, it’s the pencil,” she counters, knitting her arms over her chest.
I toss the cucumbers and tomatoes I picked from the garden this afternoon into the salad bowl, watching them argue. “And I think you two need to clean up and get ready for dinner,” I interrupt.
They both sigh, push their chairs away from the table, and exit the room, muttering to each other under their breaths.
I stood out in the trickling rain, picking at various plants for over an hour earlier, thinking Colten would either get fed up with my pathetic lurking or return to work where I could snag him for a chat before he left.
He’s done neither.
This whole afternoon, since our…fuckfest at lunch, he’s been locked away in his house. And I know that because I tried the front door. There’s a back door, too, but that one was also locked. Then I wandered around to his bedroom windows with a dripping wet Rossco trailing behind me, but the shades were drawn. I couldn’t see in, and he couldn’t see out.
That solidified my scheme, so I’m planning to make a “break for it” after dinner, since I’m doubtful he’ll attend. That notion is proved true when Cameron and Brennan wander into the kitchen and shake their heads with apologetic expressions, hinting that their chat with him didn’t go as planned.
“I figured.” I sigh, leaning over my hands on the countertop.
They both stare at me. The only reason there is awkward silence right now has nothing to do with what happened earlier between all of us. We are more concerned about Colten and the internal battle he’s facing. One that we initiated.
We acted thoughtlessly.
The kids might not have been home today, but we should’ve known Colten could catch us.
Brennan flattens his lips. “It’s our fault. We pushed him too far.”
I reach for the plate of cookies on the counter, unable to resist. At least taking them out early before we lost ourselves in each other resulted in some perfectly chewy cookies. I always prefer them undercooked anyway. I take a bite while they watch me.
“It’s my fault,” I shake my head, choking on the words. “He said that first night in the forest that he would never share.”
He told me he has been losing control since he brought me here, and I can’t help but feel like this is my doing. The lust disoriented me. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and as much as I loved feeling all three of them, my skin crawls with distress.
I don’t regret it per se. But I don’t feel good about it either.
Colten won’t talk to any of us. He’s doing what he always does: surrendering himself to the chaotic thoughts in his head and allowing them to run amuck.
Sad laughter shakes Cameron’s chest. “Yeah, he’s always been the brother who…struggles to share his possessions.”
I taper a brow. “So, he’s possessive over me.” It’s not a question; I’m saying it out loud so my brain can process it.
“Well, something clearly happened between you two when we took Jessica to school. It’s not hard to guess what it was,” Brennan’s tone alludes. He reaches for the plate of cookies, and I impulsively swat at his hand, smacking the back of the wrist. “Ow!” He points to my fingers digging into the soft dough. “You’re eating one. I guess the lack of sharing skills is something you and Colten have in common.”
Smirking at him, I tear off half of my cookie and hand it to him right as Elena and Tristan amble into the kitchen. Perfect timing. They both eye the cookie with bright eyes and huge shit-eating grins.
Elena opens her mouth, but Cameron reads her mind, instantly cutting her off. “After dinner.” He hands Tristan a dinner plate and wanders to the oven, starting to dish some spaghetti on Elena’s. “And you have to eat at least half your plate if you want a cookie.”
“Sooo, what did he say when you talked to him?” I ask, shifting my attention to Brennan as Elena grills Cameron about why she can’t have a cookie before dinner.
Got to give her credit for trying.
Brennan shrugs, wiping his fingers on his jeans as he finishes chewing. “Barely anything. He was pretty piss—mad.” I chuckle at his save since Elena and Tristan are in the room. “He said he would be eating dinner at home and proceeded to get rid of us by saying he’d see us at five tomorrow morning in section fifteen.”
“Dang. He must be really mad if he told you to meet him at five.” Colten may go to work early, but the twins are usually out of the house by seven.
Cameron focuses on the pot of spaghetti he’s dishing onto plates but joins in on the conversation. “He said something about a heat wave tomorrow, so he wants to get fertilizing done early, which is crap if you ask me. Knowing him, he’ll probably get started around four to release some pent-up frustration before we join him.”
