Unless he’s unconditionally in love with the attendee, and things like hishometownand hischildhoodmatter. Oh, god, that’s what it is, isn’t it?
Atlas’s sweet laughter penetrates the loud pop music, and my eyes return to where he and Julian are standing.
Julian has an arm snugly wrapped around my brother’s waist, his hand gently grazing Atlas’s flushed cheek. Julian is whispering something to him, something that’s making him laugh and blush and swoon, and the moment is far too intimate, too sweet, for me to see.
Not without feeling that stab of loneliness, the reminder of the things I’ve lost. So I do what I do best: I leave.
Slipping out of the drawing room, I head downstairs and out into the backyard. I can use some fresh air, some moonlight to hide in.
Between Julian and Atlas acting disgustingly lovey and the impending arrival of Cameron and Cassie, I’m feeling exhausted already. A nice walk around the gardens should help me relax.
Or, at least I thought it was going to—until I hearvoices.
“You think you’resoclever, don’t you?” he says, and I’m trying to pin the person behind the sound because it soundskind offamiliar, but I’m failing.
“I do, actually. Clever, and handsome, and witty,” Barfred responds. I could pick out his voice from a lineup, with how often I hear it.
“Fuck you,” the other man seethes.
“Oh, you’d liked that, wouldn’t you? You’re such a desperate, wicked little thing that I bet you dream of it daily.” Barfred sounds angry, something I hardly ever experience from him. “Hm? Am I right? Are you sitting around your little condo, hand in your pants, imagining all the ways I might break you some day? Imagining medefilingyou?”
My heart seizes in my chest. My hands shake where they hang at my sides. What thehellis going on out here?
“Nathaniel,” the unknown voice grits out. “I would rather take a hot poker up my ass than be left unsatisfied byyou.”
“That’s not what you said the last time you were sat on my dick,Landon. That’s not how you were acting when I had my fingers buried in your—”
“Enough!”
It seems they’re fighting, and Barfred is the only one mostly composed. This Landon character is slowly being ripped apart, right in my backyard.
“Get your hands off of me,” Landon hisses, and I can hear rustling, struggling.
I’ve taken two steps before I can stop myself. Am I going to rescue some guy I don’t know? Am I going to interrupt?
But a second later, I realize he doesn’tneedrescuing.
A soft, breathy moan resonates through the cool, spring air. It’s followed by various grunts and the unmistakable sound of something wet. My mind immediately jumps back in time to Cameron on his knees between the very trees that surround Chastain, my hard length sliding obscenely between his lips.
Fuck.
“That’s right, babydoll. You feel this? This is—”
I slip back inside as quietly as possible, unwilling to hear any more. And between my reeling thoughts of Cameron and how lonely I feel right now, I realize Idoknow a Landon.
That’s the name of Julian’s best friend, isn’t it? The tall, green-eyed man who was here with that girl so many weeks ago?
I could have sworn Julian said his out-of-state friends weren’t coming.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I head back to the drawing room, immediately finding Julian leaning against the far wall, watching Atlas with possessive, observant eyes as my brother dances with some of the guests.
“Julian,” I greet, meeting his eyes as he looks away from Atlas.
“Having fun, Young Master Atticus?” he asks, his gaze darting between me and the makeshift dance floor.
“Debatable,” I reply dryly. “I’ve come to ask you a question.”
Julian stands up straight, his shoulders squaring as his arms cross over his chest. Even like this, I’m still a bit taller than him.
