I mouth “bedroom” at Silas again, and he hesitates, but he shakes his head.His expression shifts.Resolute, and maybe resigned.
He’s not going to hide.
He’s shirtless.He’s holding a bathrobe.There’s no explanation for this that doesn’t end in disaster.
“Coming!”I call out, my voice way too high.Fuck.I guess we’re doing this.
I open the door.
Hunter’s standing there with a pair of skis slung over his shoulder, looking exhausted.“Hey!Traffic is insane.Eighty-seven is a parking lot.Some truck jackknifed near?—”
He stops.His eyes move past me into the apartment.
To Silas.Standing there.Shirtless.Holding the banana bathrobe Hunter gave him.
The grin slides off Hunter’s face like ice melting in the sun.
“What the fuck.”
It’s not a question.It’s flat.Emotionless.Which is somehow worse than if he were yelling.
The skis clatter to the floor.
“Hunter—” I start.
But my brother isn’t looking at me anymore.He’s staring at Silas with an expression I’ve never seen on his face before.Something cold and furious and utterly betrayed.
“Hunter, let me explain—” Silas begins.
“Explain what?”Hunter’s voice is still too calm, too controlled.He steps into the apartment, and I instinctively move aside.“Explain why my best friend is standing half naked in my sister’s apartment?Wearing the robe I gave him?”
“It’s not—” I try.
“How long?”Hunter asks.
Silence.
His jaw clenches.“How.Long.”
“A few months,” I whisper.
“A few months.”He repeats it like he’s testing how the words taste.Then something inside him breaks.“A FEW MONTHS?”
The yell makes me jump.Hunter’s face has gone red, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“You’ve been fucking my sister for MONTHS?”He advances on Silas, who stands his ground but drops the bathrobe.“I asked you—at Thanksgiving, at Christmas—I asked if you were seeing anyone.And you looked me in the eye and LIED.”
“Hunter, I can explain?—”
“EXPLAIN?”Hunter’s voice cracks.“Explain what?That my best friend has been sneaking around with my sister?That every time Bailey came to visit, she wasn’t there to see me—she was there to fuck YOU?”
“That’s not fair—” I start, but Hunter whirls on me.
“ISN’T IT?”His eyes are bright, whether with rage or tears I can’t tell.“Tell me I’m wrong, Bailey.Tell me that all those extra visits, all those times you said you wanted to spend more time with family—tell me that wasn’t about him.”
I can’t.Because he’s right.
Hunter laughs, but there’s no humor in it.It’s an awful, broken sound.“Jesus Christ.My two favorite people in the world and you both?—”
