And that seems to be the start of the bond that needs to be formed between these two brothers. Never imagined that the vile woman who calls herself their mother would manage to create something so beautiful.
“Okay,” I say to nobody in particular after dinner. “I can’t read anymore, I need to do something fun. And no, before you ask, not that kind of fun. I’m out of commission, you guys are slowly breaking me. I need some recovery time.”
Dean chuckles. “You weren’t complaining when you came for the third time this morning.”
My mind wanders to that morning, when Dean cornered me in the shower and made sure that I had to start getting clean all over again after he was done with me. I’m not complaining about it, I’m just reaching my limit of what my body can take. Perhaps trying a relationship with four guys wasn’t as smart as it seemed. Then again, giving them up seems like the worst idea I could ever have.
“No complaining, I just need to reboot a little.”
Gil laughs. “Death by overexposure to pleasure seems like a good way to go. We can’t drink anything though, my liver needs a break and we all have work tomorrow.”
“I don’t have work tomorrow!” I counter. “This is my work-free zone before work returns to a war-zone!”
“Well, you get drunk and we all stay sober,” O dead-pans.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Dean laughs and combs a hand through his hair. The sides of his head are freshly shaven, making him look all snazzy, and I kind of want to run my fingers through his long blond locks, but I know that’ll lead to places I’m not willing to go right now.
“How about we play a game of truths?” O says.
“You mean truth or dare?’ Gil asks as he sits himself down on the armrest opposite to me.
“No, the dares are more fun when drunk. So we’ll do truths only, and if you chicken out, you owe us one dare for a later date when we can get drunk.”
“Fucking hell, we have a serious problem guys. We need to start drinking less,” I say, realizing how much we’ve been drinking.
“Nah, let’s wait with the twelve steps until everyone is home safely and we no longer run with the bad guys,” Dean says as he pulls me against him and wraps his warm, muscular arm around me. I nuzzle myself into the little sweet spot that he has there. We manage to take up most of the three seater couch together. It’s a gift, really.
“Well, okay. Truths it is then.” O drags out one of the bar stools from the breakfast bar and sits with us.
“Who starts?”
“Me, duh,” Dean says. “Who’s your fave right now?”
“Still you, still processing the Cherry thing,” I answer without thinking. He fucking buzzes with glee. He enjoys hearing that way too much. “So, why didn’t you sleep with Cherry?”
“She was Loraine’s best friend in high school. Spent a lot of time with her, because those girls were always around each other. Or maybe now that I think of it, she told me she was around Cherry a lot when she was actually cheating on me and I just didn’t notice. And because I was faithful to Loraine I kind of just became friends with her. Sleeping with her would be like sleeping with one of my sisters and… Just no.” He shudders.
“You just never stopped being her friend, even after what Loraine did?”
He shrugs. “Loraine lied to me. Cherry was always up front in who she was and what she did. She even called Loraine out on her own bad behavior and for leading me on. Then she tried to hit on me, but whatever, she was always nice and that never changed. So why would I change it?”
It’s who he is though, right? He’s just loyal to the people around him. He points his chin to O, getting his attention.
“How are you really dealing with Celia’s death?”
He starts looking at his feet, before he almost unnoticeably sighs. “I think I’ll take the dare.”
“I think it’s really important you answer this one,” Gil says, his eyes resting on my childhood friend with an intensity so big I can almost taste it. The room fills with silence as we wait to see what O will do.
“I don’t know. It’s fucking messing with my head. I did kill her, you know? And now I have to go on trial for it, and I’m fucking scared that the outcome will be bad and that by saving my life, I’ve also thrown it away.”
He stands up, makes himself a drink even if we said we weren’t drinking and downs it in one go. Then he sits down on the couch, on the other side of me. Even if we’re taking up most of the couch, he works his way under me. I don’t know how to answer his admission, so I grab his hand and tangle my fingers through his, squeezing them. I get rewarded by a sad smile.
“Maybe you should talk to someone about that,” Gil says. “Like, professionally?”
O clears his throat. “Yeah, I guess so. I think I’m going to have to look into that.”