Page 118 of Sterling Heat

“Why? What did I do now?” I keep my head high, shoulders tight, but my voice gives me away. It’s always my fault.

Stone tips his head, before removing his dark-shaded aviators that he doesn’t need to wear in the late evening light. “Why do you think you did something?”

“Because I always do. And you’re always there to point it out.”

His bushy brows lift, furrowing his forehead.

“You told me not to employ Rena. Or at least run a full background check on her, and I didn’t.”

“Even if you had, it didn’t matter. She didn’t have anything on file but a misdemeanor for public intoxication.”

“Then you told me not to invite Enya to live with me, and I still did it anyway.”

Stone’s eyes widen. “When did I say that?”

“And now you’re going to lecture me about how I don’t listen. I react first and ask questions later. And look how that’s turned out for me.” I stare down at the helmet I hold between my hands. There’s no reflection in the dark covering with the heaviness of night closing in over us. I don’t want to look at myself anyway.

I’ve fucked up again.

Stone heavily exhales and squints at the road before us.

Here we go.

“You do react, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t listening.”

My head lifts and I narrow my eyes at him.

He looks back at me. “You listen to your heart.”

What? My eyes, mirroring the color of his, widen. His still have moments of softness in them, while I’m certain mine are perpetually hard. We’ve both seen our fair share of fucked up in this life.

“What do you mean?”

“Sebastian, ever since you were a kid, you’ve been led by your heart. You thought selling drugs would help the family, in a fucked up sort of way, and you did it because you love us.”

I stare at him, not certain what to say.

“You think I don’t know how Ford magically got new baseball equipment? Or Vale got to take those dance lessons?” He stares at me, like an all-knowing father. “Even for me. You got me those overpriced aviator glasses, so I’d look like a bad-ass sheriff when I made the force.”

I remember handing him the reflective sunglasses before his graduation. I was high when I told him he’d look bad ass.

Stone holds up the glasses he’d been wearing by their frame. Those can’t possibly be the same ones. They’d be twenty years old.

But reading my mind, Stone shakes the frames. “These are some high-quality sunglasses.”

He’s . . . been wearing them since I gifted them to him?

“Look, I know I’ve been hard on you. You’ve broken the law, and I’m the law around here.”

I huff. He certainly is.

“But you’re my brother. I love you.”

Who is this man? I tip to the side, my knees buckling. Thank goodness I’m sitting on my motorcycle because if I wasn’t, I’d fall over. Never, not once in my life, has Stone said such a thing to me.

“What?” I choke. It’s not the best response one could have to hearing such a phrase. It’s not even the response I should give him in return. I don’t think I’ve ever said those three words to anyone, other than playfully, snarky love you’s to Vale.

Stone sighs, lowering his head and hooking his thumbs in his sheriff’s belt. “I know it’s been tough.” His head snaps up. “Life has been incredibly unfair.”