Only, I didn’t expect him to do it when I was fighting for my life, grasping onto my very last breath. Those are the actions of someone cold,heartless.
Someone who is dead to me.
Bridging the open doors to the balcony, I find my brother and Caleb. They’re sprawled out on the outdoor linen couch with three closed boxes of pizza placed on the table in front of them. I let my eyes wander over Caleb. He’s just as shredded as Keaton, if the way his black t-shirt curled around the tight muscles of his broad shoulders and bulging arms have anything to say about it.
Resting the weight of my body against the open glass panels, I cross my ankles. “You guys waiting for it to go cold?”
At my question, both boys’ heads snap to me, looking kind of confused. Chuckling lightly, I jerk my chin toward the red, white, and green boxes of cardboard stained with what could only be grease marks in front of them, raising my eyebrows.
Caleb drapes his tanned arm over the backrest, kicking his black jean-covered legs out while pushing back. He’s too beautiful for his own good. The sharp planes of his face, cheekbones that sit high and dominant, and lips like cushions. But it’s the twinkle in his emerald eyes that stands out to me. I find myself nervously curling the fabric at my knuckles around my fingers.He feels kind of safe. And I hate myself for even thinking that. I have no reason to believe such a thing.
Safe places are only empty graves. I fall into them, and it’s not long before dirt seeps into my lungs, suffocating me, the way I always knew it would but hoped, that maybe, just this one time, it wouldn’t.
Caleb clears his throat. “It would be rude not to wait for you, sweetheart,” he states, a warm, gentle smile tugging at the corner of his full lips. However, his choice of endearment has submerged any warmth in ice.
I try so hard not to turn around, to run, to get the fuck out of here. Why do all men say that word? The exact one that will forever haunt my waking days and eerie nights.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so pretty when you fight for your life.”
Fighting the urge to bite back so my brother doesn’t ask any questions, I inhale through my nose. It burns, and then I smile.And just that fucking kills me.
“What a gentleman,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my waist, nervously rubbing the chill away at my triceps.
Caleb winks, his deep forest green eyes shining, and I find myself swallowing down the sharp barbs tearing through my throat.
I keep my eyes on him when he leans forward in his seat and starts to open the boxes. Dark curls whisper over his sun-kissed forehead, and when he flicks the strands out of his eyes, the chrome feather earring hanging from his lobe follows the casual movement. I can’t help but notice his warmth again. He’s so different to my brother, and I wonder how they know each other, though it’s not my place to pry. The less I know about my brother, I think the better.
“Please tell me you still like that prosciutto one with the green shit on top?” Keaton asks, placing the cigarette between his lips and taking a hit.
I push off the door and slip down between both boys, snatching the cigarette from Keaton and taking my own pull. Closing my eyes, I let it hit my ravaged lungs before blowing out a gray cloud above me. “Rocket, you mean?” I reply, my voice raspy.
I don’t smoke often, but today,I need it.
“Yeah, that shit,” Keats confirms, leaning over and grabbing a slice from the one loaded with deli meat.
Caleb is laughing. “Thatshitis fucking delicious. You have good taste, Blaine.”
My gaze snags on Caleb’s, and he winks at me again.
Taking another pull from the cigarette, I smile, allowing my eyes to travel down the length of him unapologetically as I blow out a heavy breath of nicotine. He is bigger than Harlen, taller,stockier. Harlen is leaner, yet muscular. Harlen is straight-up fucking ripped. It's disgusting how perfect he is on the outside; such a shame that he’s a literal piece of shit on the inside.
I blink the thought ofhimaway and quickly bring my attention back to Caleb, my smirk deepening. “Ahhh, a man with diverse taste buds.”
He points at me and moves his finger up and down approvingly, though I don’t miss the way his stubbled cheeks redden slightly. It’s cute.
“Exactly.” He leans forward and opens the box of prosciutto, rocket, and shaved parmesan pizza, picking up the cardboard and holding the offering out to me. “You first.” He jerks his chin toward the oozie goodness.
Gentle, he isso gentle.Is it a mask? Or is he damaged, too?
I bend at the waist, biting on my bottom lip. His eyes follow the movement from my lips to the box as I take a slice.
“Thank you,” I whisper, resting back into the seat. The soles of my feet find a place on the cushion, and I bring the slice to my mouth, taking a large bite. I remind myself to chew so I don’t give myself heartburn, but it tastes so good I can’t help but devour it in two seconds flat.
I missed food so much.
Snatching up another piece, I inhale it, and when I’m on my third, I feel an elbow at my side.Fuck, I bite my tongue to stifle the sharp pain that slices up my ribs, then I twist my head toward Keaton.
“Was that necessary?” I snap, speaking around a mouthful of food.
