Page 38 of Dreamscape Therapies

I throw my hands up. "Why the hell not?"

"Because, little brother," he mocks, slipping into an exaggerated imitation of my voice, “if you get hurt or hurt someone else, I'd be liable."

"I don't sound like that." I glare at him.

"You absolutely do."

"Shane."

He lets out a put-upon sigh before the teasing disappears.

"What I can do, brat, is look into it for you."

For just a second, he isn't the obnoxious older brother who spent our childhood tormenting me; he's the responsible detective who closes more cases than anyone else in the precinct.

"It's just..." I don't know how to explain it. How do I tell him that this feels different? That I can't stand the thought of Vincent suffering anymore? That somehow, helping him has stopped feeling like a professional obligation and started feeling personal? I shake my head, deciding against telling him any more details. "Thank you."

Shane smiles wickedly. "Of course. I have to find the person messing with my baby brother's new boyfriend."

My brain short-circuits. “He’s… That’s not… We aren’t…” Words have officially abandoned me.

"I fucking knew it." He shoots out of his chair and wraps me in a bear hug. "My baby brother is all grown up and crushing on a patient!"

"Shut up!" I smack his shoulder until he finally lets me go. "You're an asshole."

He just laughs at my glare. "You've got it bad."

"I do not."

Liar. I absolutely do.

I've got it so bad I'm tracking down dream monsters, visiting police stations, and thinking about Vincent every spare second of the day.

"You're blushing!"

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Would it be possible to murder a police officer inside a police station and get away with it?"

"Probably not."

"Shame."

Shane grins. "Tell me about him."

"No."

"Is he cute?"

I don’t answer him.

"What species?"

"Shane."

"Does he know you're obsessed with him?"