Page 58 of Wilder

Because if I couldn’t fix whatever the hell was going on with Grey and I, at least I could make the countertops sparkle.

Gage would be happy to come home to a spotless house after having to deal with the stress of Xavier’s injuries, and compared to mucking stalls, this was easy work. Scrubbing countertops, wiping down surfaces, vacuuming—none of it required much thought, and that was exactly what I needed right now.

I had no idea how much time passed in between getting through the kitchen and dining room, but by the time I reached the living room, I was fully in the groove.

My body moved on autopilot, my hands busy while my focus narrowed in on the repetitive motions.

There was something about the monotony that helped me ease from anger to an emotion a little less volatile. The simple act of putting things in order, clearing away the mess, freshening up the place, made me feel better about slowly releasing the tension coiled tight in my chest.

This wasn’t a perfect solution by any means, or some magical fix that made everything better. It sure as hell didn’t erase the sting of being ditched by my brother, especially without what seemed like any thought behind his actions.

But it did clear my head.

Enough to make space for another thought entirely: maybe... this was how things were going to be from now on.

Maybe I needed to suck it up and accept that.

We were adults now, both with lives that stretched far beyond the small, insular world we’d grown up in. States away and with jobs that demanded most of our time we usually devoted to each other. It was only fair to assume our priorities would shift, pulling us into different directions entirely.

Gone were the days of wanting to spend all day together. Now, we were going to be lucky if we saw each other once or twice a year, and even when we did, it wasn’t like we would spend every second of it attached at the hip like usual.

The realization settled deep in my chest. A strange and hollow ache forming alongside it.

It made me kind of sad, honestly. Reality was such a bittersweet pill to swallow.

Gage would probably tell me this was the nature of getting older—how it was perfectly normal for relationships to change, shift and evolve, no matter how much we wanted to hold onto them. Preserve them in their past state, immortalize the times that held the dearest memories.

People drifted. They moved on, found new priorities, carved out spaces that didn’t always have room for the people who once fit perfectly in them. It wasn’t about love, and maybe it wasn’t even about Grey at all—or Gage for that matter.

It was just... life.

And now it was up to me to figure out how I wanted to go about navigating this new stage, how I wanted to exist in a world where my twin wasn’t always by my side. Where the closeness we had once shared wasn’t always a guarantee anymore.

Maybe it was childish to want to hold on to what Grey and I had in the past. Hell, maybe it was childish to feel that way about Gage, too. They were both my brothers; two people I’d always thought would be constants in my life.

Now for the first time, I had to face the fact that nothing, not even us, was immune to eventuality.

Then again, I supposed things couldn’t stay the same forever as much as I wanted them to. We’d all been apart for a year already. Perhaps, I was simply late to the ball game on the dynamic between us all rearranging.

I sighed.

“You sound like someone just died.” The unexpected voice cut through the quiet of the living room, making me damn near jump out of my skin.

“Jesus!” I whirled around so fast I nearly lost my balance, a hand flying to my chest as my pulse kicked up. “What the hell, Greyson?”

He had the audacity to snort, a tired smirk pulling at his lips like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of me. “What? You didn’t hear me come in?”

I glared at him, scanning him while taking in the evidence of his night out. His slightly rumpled clothes, the distinct smell of cheap beer and even cheaper cologne clinging to him like a second skin, announcing exactly where he’d been and what he’d been doing all night while I sat here hoping he’d come walking through the door any minute.

That sudden surge of anger from before tickled at the base of my neck.

Damn, I was doing so well, too.

“You didn’t come home last night,” I said.

“Yeah. I did text you. Did you not check your phone?”

“I did.” I paused, then said, “How’d you get served if you’re not twenty-one?”