Was he texting anyone, and if so, who?
The question that circled my head the most, though, was—if I visited him in his bedroom, would he let me in, just to talk, or would he turn me away?
I was way too shy to test that theory. But I did go looking for him a handful of times over the months he’d been living here. Twice, I found him watching a movie. Once, I was lucky enough to spend a morning with him in the kitchen, just him and me. Other than that…nothing.
As I padded down the stairs, selfishly, I wished my luck would change. Wished I’d bump into him.
But I also couldn’t help hoping he was doing what was best for him. Sleeping. He needed the rest if he wanted to keep his straight A’s and keep his scholarship.
He had to.
Duncan was as brilliant as he was hardworking. Every morning when I’d come down for breakfast, he’d be on his second coffee with books piled around him. If I ever woke up earlier than that, he’d be out jogging, so—at least I thought—he’d have the rest of the day to do his homework. While Barclay played video games, his best friend would be studying.
I admired him. I wanted him to get everything he’d ever dreamed of.
And there was one thing I never told anyone: I wanted Duncan’s happily ever after more than anything. Even more than Barclay staying out of trouble.
“Elowyn?” A hushed, hoarse voice snapped me out of my shameful thoughts.
I looked up, finding Duncan at the top of the stairs. In gray loungewear, he looked as hot as he would’ve in a tux.
The way the Henley clung to his lean muscles, or how the sweatpants sat dangerously low, I could hardly speak. Or breathe. My insides were boiling.
“I—yes.” I cleared my throat, feeling my nipples tightening beneath my nightgown. Crossing my arms over my chest, I ignored the blush creeping up my cheeks. “Yes. It’s me.”
At that, I blushed harder. Ugh, of course it was me.
Duncan didn’t seem to notice my awkwardness. His eyebrows dipped as he ran a hand through his messy hair.
The butterflies in my belly quieted as worry crept in. “You okay?”
His dark eyes sharpened, as if he wasn’t expecting that question.
I loved my brother, but he could be such a jerk sometimes. I would’ve scolded or begged him to be more empathetic toward the grieving Duncan. Sadly, it would’ve been a waste of breath.
With my eyes on Duncan’s, I went down the last steps and motioned for him to follow me to the first floor.
His chest expanded as his gaze darted down the hall, searching. Long seconds passed before he murmured, “Fuck it,” and descended the stairs.
Relief flooded me, though I said nothing. Neither did he.
We didn’t need words. We just stood there in silence. And while I felt small next to him, it was as if he was the one drawing strength from my presence.
Eventually, the lines creasing his forehead smoothed. His expression cleared.
I was so happy that I was about to throw my arms around him, but—no. That would’ve been crossing one too many lines.
“Little moon.” He raised a hand, bringing it an inch from my cheek. A crushing disappointment followed as soon as he dropped it at his side. “What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” It was a struggle to stay where I was. To not lean in and inhale his scent. “It happens.”
He opened his mouth to ask something, probablywhy?
I stopped him before he could. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you okay?”
“Truth is, I’m not.” His forehead creased again, and this time, mine did too. I didn’t like it when he was upset. “I’m going to fuck up, Elowyn. Badly. Barclay and I both will. I’ll look after him so no one will know, but…”
A scream lodged in my throat. A childish cry that would end in a tantrum.
