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“Ford,” Cam called again, his voice tinted with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” I practically yelled. I could hear material moving behind me so I could only assume he was drawing up his own pants. But I dared not look at him. “I’m sorry,” I repeated more softly as another bout of nausea threatened to send me to my knees. Humiliation knifed through me as I bent over at the waist and shut my eyes.

“Ford,” Cam said gently from behind me, then his hand was on my back.

My still bare back.

He might as well have touched me with a hot poker.

“No! Please… please don’t touch me!” I said on a gag as the vomit began crawling up my throat. Shame crawled beneath my skin and I quickly grabbed my shirt. I threw Cam off when I felt him reach for me again. I thought he might have said my name too, but the roaring between my ears was so loud I couldn’t be sure.

I didn’t look back as I practically ran out of my studio. I stumbled as I went down the stairs while trying to get my shirt on. I banged my leg on the metal stairwell pretty hard, but the pain actually helped stave off the sour sensation that was filling my mouth.

I made it outside before the first spasm hit my stomach. Tears of humiliation and discomfort streamed down my face as I threw up just feet from my car. When the retching finally eased, I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt. I grabbed a handful of snow and put it in my mouth, then spit it out in the hopes of ridding myself of the taste of vomit. I got to my feet and reached my car but made the mistake of looking up at my studio’s window.

He was there, watching me. I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but I didn’t really want to, either.

Besides, I knew what I would have seen.

The same thing that’d been on Theo’s face when he’d looked up at me from the floor of the athletics shed.

Confusion.

Pain.

And betrayal.

Cold, stark, agonizing betrayal.

“Where you been you little fucktard?”

Jimmy’s snarl had me jumping the second I closed the door behind me.

Fuck. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t thought to use the side door instead of the front one. When our parents weren’t home, Jimmy had a tendency to linger in the den by the front door, since that was where the big TV was.

“Working,” I blurted before I could even consider what I was saying.

Jimmy stood up from the lounge chair that had a view of the front door and the TV at the same time. There were at least half a dozen beers sitting out on the coffee table, as well as an uncapped needle, a burned spoon, a lighter and a small, empty plastic baggie.

“Where you working? A pig shit farm?” he asked as he stalked towards me. I looked down at my hands and realized they were covered in the remnants of the paint I’d been using. I wondered what the rest of me looked like, considering Cam’s hands had been all over my body. Fuck, if Jimmy figured out what I’d been doing…

“I had car trouble,” I lied. The mere act of lying to Jimmy scared the crap out of me because I knew the punishment if he figured out that I wasn’t being truthful. But it wasn’t like he’d throw me a ticker tape parade if he found out I’d just had my dick inside Pelican Bay’s new sheriff.

Jimmy looked me up and down. I held my breath as he studied me. “Did you need something?” I asked.

“Yeah, a hundred bucks,” he responded without hesitation. His mouth was tight with anger and I could see his hands shaking.

Shit, that meant he was already starting to experience withdrawal symptoms. That was not good news for me.

I quickly sought out my wallet. There was a lump in my throat as Jimmy swallowed what remained of the beer in his hand.

“I only have twenty,” I said as I practically shoved the money at him and tried to move past him. He stepped in my path with surprising speed.

So not quite as drunk as I’d been hoping.

“Twenty ain’t enough and you know it,” my brother said quietly. “You lying to me, little brother? Or you thinkin’ you can pull one over on me?”

“I really don’t have it, Jimmy. I swear. Things have been tight lately—”

Jimmy shoved me, causing my back to hit the door. He slammed his hand against the wood next to my head.

“You think I’m stupid, is that it? You think I’m not gonna notice when you’re buyin yourself new shit?”

I closed my mouth and pulled in a breath. “I haven’t been buying anything. I don’t get paid until next Friday—”

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