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I swear I heard the fucker laugh.
I stuck my head under the warm spray the second I was inside the shower. The water saturated my hair, pulling it over my forehead and into my eyes as my head hung toward my chest.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It seemed to be the only coherent thought I could pick out of all the others clouding my brain. It was just too much, almost as though adrenaline still pumped in me, forcing out everything so I could act. I’d already acted, though. I flipped the fuck out and washed a grown man’s hands at the sink.
I care about him. No. I more than care. I—
I groaned loud, cutting off the thought, and reached for my shampoo.
Flashes from the past assaulted me as I scrubbed my head so hard my scalp started to ache. Like a movie, pictures played behind my eyes. My parents smiling. My mom in a hospital bed. Flowers on my father’s grave. Max with bruises and a bloody nose. Wes in a coma. A phone ringing in the middle of the night. Wes with stitches in his head. Lars with blue lips. The sound of my own voice begging Lars to breathe. Fear. Pain that hurt so bad I wished for death.
I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t. It cost too much to love someone. It cost too much to let them in.
I shut off the water and roughly towel-dried my body, feeling like a mere shell of myself, like a husk of a man.
As I rubbed the towel over my wet head, I started to laugh.
I went to Sweden for freedom and came home more of a prisoner than before.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. I wrenched it open, not even caring I was still naked as the day I was born. I flung the wet towel at Max’s face and tugged on a pair of gray sweatpants. Using my hands in lieu of a comb, I left the bathroom, walking past my brother and back into my room.
The air was cold, making my nipples pucker, but I didn’t reach for a shirt. I hoped part of me turned numb.
“You ready to talk now?” Max asked, entering the room and shutting us inside.
“If I said no?”
There was a beat of silence, then, “So I’m assuming you and Lars had a thing in Sweden.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Because I freaked out about his allergy?”
“Because you called him angel and because he’s hot as fuck.”
My arms fell to my sides, and I stiffened. “You better not be looking at him!”
Max smirked. “Jealous?”
Furiously.“You’re dating my brother. You shouldn’t be looking at other people.”
Max’s smirk died. “Wes is my only. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Then stop checking out Lars.”
He shrugged. “I was curious. Never seen you this tied up in knots over anyone.”
I groaned.
“It’s the hair, isn’t it?” he mused.
I groaned again, and Max laughed.
“This is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
My eyes flashed up to his, and he sighed.
