Page 51 of The Gaybor War

"Yes, but with purpose. I’m just checking to make sure you haven’t mixed anything non-biodegradable into your recycling. I am the Watch Captain, after all."

The man snorts. "Is he okay?"

Carter sighs. "Define okay."

I scramble upright, brushing myself off, but the mortification clings like a second skin. "I’m fine. Totally fine. Very sturdy bones. Big… um… calcium diet."

Carter gives me a look. "Were you spying on my house?"

I open my mouth, close it, then decide honesty is overrated.

"I prefer the term situationally aware."

The man laughs outright now. "Wow. You weren’t kidding."

"Kidding about what?" I ask, already bracing.

Carter gestures between us. "Benji, this is my brother. Mark."

Brother.

Oh. Oh no. The jealousy drains out of me so fast I nearly sway.

Brother.

My laugh is loud, relieved. "Your brother. Of course. I knew that."

Carter arches a brow. "Did you?"

"Family resemblance," I explain quickly. "It’s strong. Very… sibling-coded. Same unfortunate wardrobe."

Mark grins. "You must be the neighbor."

"Unfortunately," Carter mutters.

He told his brother about me?

"Benji," I say, sticking out my hand like a professional adult who didn’t just eat pavement. "Neighborhood nuisance."

Mark shakes it. "I like him."

Carter snorts. "Give it time."

I glance at Carter, who’s still watching me, concern softened into something harder to read.

"Well," I say, dusting off my shorts and grabbing my shoe from the can before righting it. "I should go. Before I trip into anything else deeply personal."

I turn and limp-stroll back toward my house, aware of Carter’s eyes on me the whole way. What are the chances he’s checking out my ass and not my pathetic gait?

Inside, I collapse onto the couch and press a pillow over my face.

Brother. I fell into trash cans… over his brother. I groan, wishing to God I never had the fantastic idea to spy in the first place.

Chapter 16

I’m mid–spiral.

Not metaphorically. Literally. Pacing my living room, ranting to myself at full volume, sweating through a cropped cutoff tee that used to be a normal T-shirt before I took scissors to it in a moment of melodramatic clarity/instability.