My stomach twists at the thought alone.
He pulls his piece from behind his back and places it on the side, making my brows pull together. Why the fuck did he need that for babysitting?
“Where have you been?” I ask, despite the fact that I know the answer.
“What the fuck is it to you? And why the fuck are you sitting in my bedroom in the dark like a creep?”
I shrug, as if this is fucking normal.
Truth is, I was waiting, waiting and drowning in the memories of the past that being in this house drags up.
There was a very good reason I was the first to move into our new building the second my flat was habitable.
I needed out of this place. I needed to no longer be the person I was when I lived under this roof, shackled by the opinions of those who tried to keep me down, to tell me I wasn’t good enough.
“Because I am a creep,” I say simply.
“Right. Well, if you don’t mind, I kinda wanna go to bed,” he mutters, swinging his door closed and pulling his hoodie off.
Ignoring my existence as if I’m going to disappear into thin air, he walks into our Jack and Jill bathroom to take a piss.
“So where have you been?” I ask again.
He hesitates, and I start to think that he’s not going to tell me. But after a few more seconds, he sighs before flushing the toilet and shouts, “At the boss’s, babysitting with Calli. Why?” he asks, emerging again, kicking off his jeans and throwing himself onto his bed behind me.
“Just wondered. I hear the others were having a private party in Hades.”
He glares at me. “How is it that you’re mostly absent from our lives but know exactly what everyone is doing?”
“It’s a talent you obviously didn’t get, much like your ability to shoot a gun.”
“Fuck you. I’m a good shot and you know it.”
“What was with the gun if you were just babysitting the minions?”
He shrugs. “It was in my car. Figured I should bring it in.” There’s something in his eyes as he says those words which makes me frown.
“You’re lying.”
“So fucking what if I am? You’re off the clock, remember? Daddy wants you to play teacher’s pet for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, I got that fucking memo.”
“Taking it well, I see,” he quips, getting himself comfortable and pulling the sheets up to his chin. Lucky motherfucker will no doubt fall straight to sleep the second I stop talking to him and be out of it for a solid eight hours. He’s always been the same. And once he’s out, that’s it. There’s no fucking waking him until he’s good and ready.
“What the hell do you think?”
“Just accept Theo’s help, man. There’s no shame in that. He wants to do it.”
“I don’t want his fucking charity.”
“He’s your friend. He wants you to pass. He wants you happy.”
“I’ll think about it if you tell me why you needed a gun for babysitting.”
“You’re being kept out of the loop for a fucking reason, man. Dad wants you to focus, not worry about Italian shit.”
A warning growl rumbles deep in my throat as I stare down at his sleepy eyes.