Page 6 of Bruised

“Mason?” The culprit makes himself known in the form of my little brother knocking on my door. “Can I come in?”

“Ugh.” I groan loudly and sit up, groggy and still feeling like I didn’t get enough rest. Oliver should know better than to wake me up when I’m napping.

Another knock. Little bro must really have a death wish today.

“Yeah, yeah. Come in, then. Fuck.” I drag a hand over my face, feeling like a hundred-year-old vampire who just woke up from his slumber.

Oliver opens the door and scuttles inside. Unlike Mom, he never came to visit me in lockup, so I haven’t seen him in over a year. A lot seems to have happened in that year; he’s not the same boy I remember him as. He’s had a growth spurt; everything about him seems wider and sturdier. His jaw, his shoulders, his mouth. But he’s still got an uncertain, awkward teenage vibe about him. He’s still my baby brother.

“Can we talk?” he asks, rubbing the side of his arm.

“About what?” I mutter. About how you weren’t exactly overjoyed to see me after over a year?

Oliver sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean to freak out like that. I just… I thought Lane and I would have the house to ourselves.”

“Who is he anyway—your boyfriend?” I ask.

Oliver tightens his hands into fists. “No, but he’s my best friend. And he’s staying over for the summer.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. Nice. “Just like me, then.”

“Yeah. Just like you,” Oliver says begrudgingly. He probably thinks he’s being low-key, but my little brother has always been bad at hiding his emotions. “That’s… kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, I roll my eyes. “I’m on pins and needles over here, little bro. Tell me what you want to say so I can go back to sleep.”

“Um, so the thing is…” He looks me in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. “Stay away from Lane.”

I blink. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah. I mean… I saw you in the kitchen, and he’s, like, your type.”

I smirk. “How do you know who’s my type?”

He glares at me. “You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

So yeah, maybe I brought home a couple of twinks here and there when I was still living at home and exploring my sexuality, and yeah, maybe we were being a little loud while Oliver was home after school before Mom came home from work, but whatever.

“Either way, I want you to stay away from him,” Oliver mutters.

“You’re being awfully possessive, baby bro,” I say, winking. “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

Oliver scowls. “Do we have an agreement or not?”

I lean back, hands behind my head. “Maybe you should let your little friend make his own decisions.”

“It won’t be a decision if you have a say in it.”

I sit up straight. “What are you implying, little brother? You calling me a manipulator now?”

“I’m saying you don’t play fair. And Lane is…”

I rise from the bed. “He’s what?”

Oliver looks sideways. “Never mind.”

I take a step toward him. “Well, let’s get one thing straight. I just got out of a place where someone else set the rules for me. I’m not about to take orders in my own damn house.”

“It’s not your house; it’s Mom’s,” Oliver says, voice going high-pitched. “And mine.”