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Ares pushed the pencil behind his ear, his paint-splattered bibs secured at his hips. I’d purposely worn jeans and a T-shirt to differentiate. We may be working together, but I wasn’t working for him. Last time I’d shown up in bibs like him, I’d ended up looking like his employee, and I wasn’t having that shit.
It seemed he’d noticed our similar choice in dress the other day, or at least, was mixing things up. In any sense, we’d both managed to avoid wearing the same fucking thing.
Ares hooked thumbs in his pockets. “How about you just focus on the work,” he said, then directed me on the other side of the car. “You start there. Take what I sketched out and replicate it.”
I saluted him, which made him scoff. I swear, by the end of this, we’d probably both kill each other. I didn’t
know what had compelled him to ask me to do this shit with him, or what had compelled me to say yes.
I think I knew when I pulled out my phone, a distraction from everything going on back home.
I checked my phone for texts. I’d told Bru before I left again today I’d be around for him. I had my phone on in case he needed me. He probably wouldn’t. He never did, and his response this morning had been the same as when I’d told him about the project.
He’d verbally pushed me out the door, then promptly told me to not make any noise on my way out. He spent most of his days sleeping, and though I often asked if he was feeling any worse, he stressed he was fine.
He was almost stubborn about it.
The thing about my brother was, he had a lot of pride. He did just like me. The pair of us were so used to just looking out for ourselves and each other, when we actually needed help, we refused to seek it.
For all I knew, my brother really could be dying, but he’d never tell me. This made me even more vigilant about checking in despite his doctor telling me (telling the both of us) Bru just had to sweat this shit out. We were informed to tell Dr. Richardson if Bru got any worse, and since he hadn’t, we didn’t call.
Despite my brother’s ailments, he was still acting like himself, so that was good. Definitely didn’t stop me from checking my phone every few minutes, and the first person to call attention to that was Ares. He was quick to tap the rubber end of his pencil on the car, getting my attention.
“That going to be a problem?” He directed a finger toward me, my phone. “Because if it is, you should probably leave it somewhere it’s not.”
So, yeah. Me and this phone? Wasn’t negotiable. Not with my brother being sick. I palmed it. “The phone’s not a problem.”
“Good.”
“As long as it’s not a problem for you that I’m on it.” And might as well let him know that right now. “I told you my brother is sick. He needs me around.”
“Your seventeen-year-old brother who can take care of himself,” he volleyed. He placed his hands on the trunk. “Anyway, isn’t your guardian supposed to do that shit? He is taking care of you, right?”
I really didn’t know what his problem was or why he just couldn’t help but be, well, himself. I realized he didn’t have any siblings. At least, not any that I’d heard about.
I also knew he hated me, but he could stand to have a little sympathy. I shook my head. “No. Because my brother and I take care of ourselves.”
“Right.” He smirked. “You guys are all about taking care of yourselves in that big-ass house you live in. Your brother’s fancy ride and that sweet tuition you both got.”
I blanched. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry that my dad dying and someone helping us after the fact bothers you.” Because that was exactly what had happened. My brother and I were orphans, and he knew that because Dorian knew that. The dark prince had admitted himself he’d looked into us, into me. And whatever Dorian knew, his friends definitely did.
I watched the words play on Ares’s face, the tall boy saying nothing.
I smirked now. “Well, I don’t expect sympathy from you. Someone who obviously has it all and always has.” I waved a hand to his garage. The thing alone was as big as some of the places I’d grown up in over the years. “My brother and I have always been number one and number two. And though we had my dad, he had problems, so it was always basically just number one and two. My brother and I had to work just so we could fucking eat.”
At one point, I’d had like three fucking jobs, taking on the burden for Bru as well. He was the smart one, and I wanted him to do something with himself. I’d never let him work more than what we needed.
Even then, it’d been too much.
Ares’s gaze followed me, my movements. I was restlessly checking my phone, which was pointless. My brother was probably asleep because of his meds. I huffed. “So, yeah. We have Callum. But no, I don’t make him take care of me. Care of us. He may have stepped in when our dad died, but we never asked him for anything. Let alone the house, the car, and your stupid fucking school.”
And why was I telling him all this? Mentioning all the dark shit?
Mentioning my dad.
That was private, but for whatever the reason, I was talking about it with this asshole.
The asshole had eyes on me, his head cocked. He wet his lips. “How’d he step in?”
