Page 25

“What costumes are you wearing to Kintsugi?” I ask Declan, smirking when he stops mid-sentence, gaping at me.

“How did you—“ He stops himself, waving it off with a huff. “Never mind. It’s a Marvel vs. DC theme, so Paige is dressing as Catwoman, and I’m Batman.”

“Very original.” I frown, thinking about where the hell I’ll get a costume on such short notice.

“Ry,” Declan steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder, his green eyes—so much like Mom’s—searching mine. “Why do you even want to go? And be honest. I know when you’re lying.”

I stare at him, trying to come up with an answer. The truth is, I don’t know. Shilo confuses me. That shy innocence he radiates like sunshine draws me in. I want it. And yeah, the idea of anyone else seeing that side of him—the side I saw in my condo—sets me off.

“Oh, shit,” Declan whispers, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“What?”

He pulls his lips back, shaking his head incredulously. “You like the boy.”

“So what if I do?” Shaking him off, I spin around and head toward the locker room. “Both you and Dad are dating employees. Why does everyone make a fuss when I decide to do it?”

“Dating being the keyword there, bro,“ he follows close on my heels. “You don’t date. You mess around and use people, then throw them away when you’re done. And this is my girlfriend’s baby brother we’re discussing here.”

I rear back, turning to glare at him because ouch. After the history we’ve had, those words burrow deep.

He holds up his palms. “I’m not judging you. Just stating facts. Thirty-seven years I’ve known you, and you’ve never so much as had a single boyfriend. Only fuck buddies and one night stands.”

“And that’s not about to change,” I find myself saying, entering the locker room to tug off my shirt. “I just…want to make it right, what happened between us. He thought I paid him for sex, Declan.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know.” Grabbing my gym bag, I head toward the showers. “So, just let me try and fix this, alright? Fix it my way.”

He quiets momentarily, both of us taking shower stalls next to each other as we scrub up.

“Okay. I understand, but Ry…just don’t break it more than it’s already been broken.”

I have no response to that because I can’t promise shit.

All I’ve ever done is take people apart, but who’s to say this time won’t be different?

Maybe the longer I lie to myself, the more I’ll believe it.

Kintsugi is a nightclub in the industrial district, housed in a renovated warehouse across from a boatyard. Even with the relentless downpour, the line to get in stretches around the corner, the thumping bass echoing off the steel surroundings as searchlights sweep the stormy sky.

I tip the bouncer and slip inside, bypassing the line. Paige and Declan are already here, somewhere up on the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor, where—according to my brother—Shilo is currently planted dead center. I have no idea what costume he’s wearing, and Declan hadn’t known either. But I know KC’s dressed as Harley Quinn, so I search for that first, even though it feels like half the crowd has chosen the same outfit.

Fuck.

I don’t even know what I plan to do when I find them. I just want to get Shilo away from the grinding, groping sea of bodies moving around me. After several minutes of futile searching, I give up and head to the bar, ordering a whiskey neat. The burn is smooth, warming me as I sweep the room again, eyes scanning for a flash of purple hair.

The costumes are typical: Spidermans, Supermans, a few Poison Ivys, and Captain Americas scattered throughout the crowd. Strobe lights flash overhead, illuminating veins of gold snaking up the deep blue walls, glitter flecking the floor like shards of broken glass. Tassels hang from the ceiling, and the air is thick with smoke and the unmistakable scent of marijuana. Private rooms line the back, an area I’ve grown familiar with over the years.

The thought of Shilo inside one of those rooms with KC—or anyone—has me grinding my molars. It’s irrational, I know. But I can’t stop the simmering rage that flares every time I think about it. After searching for another twenty minutes, I give in and head toward the private rooms, forcing my way through the crowd.

Then I spot him. A shorter figure in a black and white checkered bodysuit, purple hair, masked in white. It’s a character I’ve never seen before. KC dances next to him, dressed in tight shorts and a crop top that reads Daddy’s Little Monster. He’s shaking his ass while Shilo stands mostly still, bobbing his head, but he’s clearly uncomfortable. Without thinking, I shove my way through the crowd, stopping right in front of him, his face still tilted toward the floor.

KC presses into my side, shouting over the music. “Well, don’t you look sexy.”

Shilo’s head snaps up, and I’m momentarily stunned at the cracked doll mask covering his face, like he’s reached right into my head and brought my nightmares to life.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, my voice catching in my throat as my hands find his waist.