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“Just trust me, Nate. Okay?” His blue eyes lock on mine, pleading with me.
“Fine. Take your clothes off,” I order him.
“Why?” He laughs. “Because you’re that desperate to experience what five-hundred-dollar jeans feel like?”
“No, you idiot,” I say, exasperated. “We need to switch, because if I walk into that rehab center wearing this”—I motion to my grease-stained jeans and shirt—“questions are going to be asked.”
He nods. “Fine, fair point,” he mutters, unbuckling his jeans. “While we’re on the subject, you’re too much of a pussy.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not an insult. Just an observation.” He splays his palms and shrugs. “I’m just saying, you need to act like me, or someone will figure out something is wrong.”
“So what? Identical twins isn’t the natural conclusion most people will jump to, you know. Drugs. Alcohol. Mental breakdown, sure, but twins?” I scrunch up my nose. “Not so much.”
“Fine, you made your point. Now get moving,” he orders.
“Why?” I taunt. “Do you have a curfew?”
“Worse. I’ve got a babysitter.”
“A babysitter?” I repeat.
He nods. “She’s out in the car.”
I frown and crane my neck to look out the window, but the tint is too dark for me to make out anything, other than that there’s someone in there.
“Does she hang around you all the time?” I ask.
God, I hope not.
It’s going to be hard enough impersonating Brix without someone on my back, waiting for me to fuck up. I’d forgotten what an asshole my brother could be.
“No, but I’m sure she wishes she was,” he says with a grin. “She’s one of the nurses at the clinic who has to accompany me when I leave the grounds. I guess she drew the lucky straw.” He pauses. “Or maybe I did. She’s pretty cute.”
“And let me guess, she’s your number one fan?”
“Not quite,” Brix admits. “Though I did find her hiding under my bed yesterday.”
“Are you kidding me?” I laugh.
“Nope.” He grins at me.
“Doesn’t being allowed to leave kind of defeat the whole point of rehab?” I ask.
He rolls his eyes. “Sure, I guess, but who cares? It’s not like I really need help. Sure, things got a little wild, but it doesn’t mean I have a problem.”
Uh huh. That’s what all addicts say.
“So how did you get them to agree to let you leave?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I guess when you have enough money, you can bend the rules any way you want.”
Money.
Of course. It’s the only way my brother knows how to fix problems.
“So, a babysitter, huh?” I ask with a chuckle. “You’re that much of a handful that you need extra attention?”
“No, I’m that special that they offered to help me out,” he corrects with a shrug.
“Special is right,” I murmur.
“Hey,” he says, tossing his shirt at me. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you. I guess I should be used to it, though. You’ve always wanted to be like me.”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh. “You think I’m jealous of you?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t you be?” he asks, as if it’s a no brainer. “We’re identical but I got all the talent and the personality.”
He says it so matter of fact, like part of him really believes it.
“Whatever,” I say, shaking my head.
“Keep your phone on,” Brix instructs me. “I’ll call you when I need you.” He glances down and shakes his head. “The first thing I’m doing is buying you some new clothes. Call it charity, or whatever,” he mutters.
“I’m not doing this so you can play makeover,” I growl. “And I don’t need your charity. Believe it or not, I like my stuff.”
“For real?” he frowns at my shirt, then at me, like he can’t understand it.
“You’ve got two days,” I remind him. “Not a second longer, so don’t fuck around.”
“Fine,” he says.
He rolls his eyes, but I catch a flash of agitation in them. I shake my head as I walk over to the door because I can’t believe I’ve agreed to do this.
“Anything else I need to know?” I ask before I leave.
“There is one more thing,” he nods.
He’s got that all too familiar smirk on his lips.
“My babysitter?” he chuckles and rubs his jaw. “We kinda met before rehab if you catch my drift. If you get bored in there, feel free to mess with her mind a little bit.”
He winks at me. I groan and rub my head. I never should’ve asked.
Is there a chick in the world my brother hasn’t screwed?Chapter 9Hannah“About freaking time.” I moan when I spy Brix leaving the workshop.
He saunters across the road, so relaxed and casual you’d think he was out for a lazy afternoon stroll rather than leaving an unmissable meeting with his manager. Never mind the fact that my shift ended over an hour ago, or that I’m bored out of my mind sitting here waiting for him.
Sure, I don’t have anywhere to be—the highlight of my afternoon so far was finding a packet of cookies in the backseat—but it’s not like he knows that.
