“Good thing this is my house, then, isn't it?” His hand still moves over Sassy's fur, and I can feel the weight of his gaze even without looking.
My eye twitches. “That's not what she told me.”
“And what, exactly, did she tell you?”
I shrug, trying to sound casual, even though my stomach is doing backflips. “Basically, you belong to her, so everything else that's yours is rightfully hers too.”
“Not for long.” I'm sure I hear him mutter, but I’m done. I grab my phone and keys and shove them into my pocket.
“Well, if that's all you wanted, then I’ll be going.”
“I came to see if you're okay. Did something happen with Rose?” he asks quickly, moving toward me like he can block the door.
I laugh, “Don't act as if you care about me.”
“I do care. I've always cared.”
My spine goes rigid. Those three words feel like needles pressed along each vertebra. “Do us both a favour and stop pretending. I’m only here because of River. I’ll be civil with you forhim.”I force the words out, slow and clear. “Now I’m going to his game to support him,” I stress to him because he needs to understand my brother is the only person who matters. “Don't wait up. I won't be home tonight.”
I don't give him time to respond. I’m already moving, ignoring the weight of his stare burning between my shoulder blades. By the time I hit the stairs, a throbbing headache blooms behind my eyes, each step making it pulse harder. I don't know who the hell he thinks he is, acting like he suddenly gives a damn after all this time. He never cared. Neither of them cared. The only people who have loved me unconditionally, without pretending, were my dad and River.
As I reach the bottom step, I stop for a second, gripping the bannister because my body hurts. Everything hurts.
I miss him so much. It feels like someone has their hands around my ribs and keeps squeezing, tighter and tighter, every day. I wasn't lying when I said the only reason I’m still breathing is River. But even that, even that feels fragile some days. Like one wrong word, one bad night, and the whole thing will crack.
And I don't know how long loving my brother will be enough to keep me here. I lift my chin, push the ache down where it always goes, and keep walking—because he needs me.
Even if I’m breaking.
Chapter 4
Willow
The stadium is packed, I can't see a single empty seat, the noise vibrating in my eardrums, and the excited energy is contagious. Which makes sense—it's a big game, and I’m ridiculously proud of River. If they win tonight, they will make it to the finals. He's worked his ass off for this, even maintaining the ridiculously strict diet, which I get all too well from my dancing days.
A pang hits my chest as I think about dancing. I used to love it, feel free when I performed. Now it's just a reminder of another piece of me I have lost.
Most of the people are in their seats, waiting for the players to come onto the pitch, or queuing for burgers, hot dogs, and overpriced drinks. I’m here alone, clutching a pack of strawberry Twizzlers—the only thing I've managed to bring myself to eat lately. I tear one off and bite into it, closing my eyes, and let the familiar sweetness hit my tongue.
“Now that noise should be illegal.”
My eyes snap open, Twizzler still halfway in my mouth. Elijah stands in the aisle, broad shoulders blocking the sun, and next to him is basically his twin. Same black hair, but his is longer at the top, shaved tighter at the sides. Leaner build, piercings in his lip, nose, eyebrow, probably other places I don't want to think about. Blue eyes like Elijah’s, just a shade darker and twice as mischievous.
He's smirking at me right up until Elijah cuffs him on the back of his head.
“Don't flirt,” Elijah grumbles.
I swallow the sweet, mostly so I don't choke at the way his voice affects me.
It shouldn't affect me; it's just a voice attached to a man, one whom I despise. He's also a lot older, married to Rose and not to mention Rivers’ dad.
The man next to him just laughs and drops into the empty seat beside me like he owns it. “I’m Ezra—Grump's brother. And you must be Willow; we've never actually met, but River talks about you all the bloody time.”
The pieces start falling into place, and it makes sense now. I've heard a lot about his uncles, especially Ezra, but apparently, there are several of them. If they all look like this, their parents deserve awards in the genetics department.
“You don't have to talk to him,” Elijah tells me as he takes the seat on my other side. His leg brushes mine—and I inhale sharply before shifting my leg away like I wasn't affected.
I focus on Ezra instead. “Rivers mentioned you.”
