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“Would someone tell me what the hell happened?” Oliver’s gravelly voice pierces my ears, and I look over at him, nearly having forgotten he was in the room.
“It’s nothing,” I answer because honestly, the last thing I want to do is rip the brothers apart. They’re brothers. They should be there for each other, not be at one another’s necks.
“It’s not nothing,” Banks objects, “it’s a big fucking deal, especially because it involves Tiffany.”
Oliver looks between us, bewilderedly, “What did he do?”
Before I can shut him up, Banks is talking again. “We saw Sullivan, Tiffany, and her friends standing outside the library earlier. He was just standing there talking to them, and though it seems harmless, it’s wrong. After everything she did to Harlow, after all the things she said, and continues to say.”
I can practically feel the steam rolling off of Banks.
Oliver just stares at both of us, drinking up every word that his brother gives him.
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll figure out what the hell is going on.” The gusto in his voice gives me hope. If anyone could talk some sense into Sullivan, it would be his oldest brother, but even if he does, it doesn’t really change anything. Sullivan still made the choice to converse with Tiffany, and I can feel him pulling away from me. Putting distance between us.
Oliver dishes up the meal, and the boys dig in, but all I do is stare down at my plate.
We’re all supposed to be sitting down to eat, but instead of being together, it feels like we’re falling apart, and there isn’t any way I can stomach a meal with the way I’m feeling right now. Not with the amount of distance and tension between us all tonight.
“I think I’m just gonna head to bed,” I say, shoving the food on my plate around with a fork.
“You sure? You haven’t eaten anything,” Banks says, placing his hand on my arm.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just want to go to sleep and let this day be over with.” Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better one.
“Why don’t you two go on to bed. I’ll clean this up and join you in a few,” Oliver suggests with a smile, and I’m all for that. Banks nods and gets up with me. Together we climb the stairs and enter his bedroom.
He sets me on the bed and helps me undress before undressing himself. I’m so upset I can’t even fully enjoy the little striptease he’s giving me. When we are both mostly naked, he climbs on the bed and pulls me down next to him. Spreading the blanket over us, he tucks me into his side, and I bury my face into his chest. He smells like soap and man. Slowly his body heat seeps into mine, and I relax deeper into the mattress.
I’m almost asleep when the door creaks open, and light from the hallway spills over into the room. I glance up, hoping it might be Sullivan after all, he’s never gone to bed without saying goodnight to me first. When I see that it’s Oliver instead, a slight wave of disappointment washes over me, and my heart stills in my chest.
Why is he doing this?
I try to push it away, the pain, the anger. I try to be happy that Oliver is here, as he climbs into the bed and lies down next to me. As he wraps his arm around me and cuddles me. I know I’m being ridiculous and spoiled.
Here I am with two guys, two men that love me, but still, I can’t be happy about it because I’m missing a third. Sullivan is meant to be here, and without him, it feels like there is a huge piece of who I am, who we are, missing.
I just can’t help it… no matter how much Oliver and Banks mean to me, I don’t feel complete unless I have Sullivan too. Having him pull away from me… away from us, it hurts. It hurts more than anything else I’ve been through thus far.
The next two days aren’t any better, unfortunately. Sullivan seems isolated and cut off from his brothers, and I. Annoyance slowly turns to jealousy as I try and figure out why he’s changed so suddenly. One minute everything was fine, and the next, he’s avoiding me at every turn. He doesn’t even look at me anymore, and if I try and speak to him, he pretends as if he hasn’t heard me. It’s like he is actively trying to distance himself from me.
All morning, I was looking forward to our afternoon class together, hoping that maybe then he would talk to me, but as I sit in the classroom waiting for him, the seat next to me remains empty. Of course, he would ditch me.
Chewing on the end of my pencil, I look around the class absentmindedly, because let’s face it, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything written on the whiteboard anyway. When nothing inside the classroom holds my interest, I let my gaze wander to the windows.
