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A part of me hoped that I’d always been wrong. Because then I wouldn’t have to weigh Shiloh’s heart against my own. I wouldn’t have to truly worry about who Atlas would choose when it came down to the wire.
He says he doesn’t feel that way about my brother, but if Shiloh told him he wanted him… would Atlas give in? Because Atlas would trade his heart without a second thought if it would make Shiloh happy.
“I know you’ve kissed,” he says. “At least a couple of times. I didn’t think you were the submissive type, but you fold right up for him. You both looked ready to fuck right there against the gym mirror. Would you have let him? I can’t imagine Atlas bottoming for you.”
Mortification wars with the dread sitting heavy in my chest. Shiloh saw us. He saw Atlas’ hands on me, his mouth on mine. He saw my surrender.
“We wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have…”
“He’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”
“Shiloh…”
“It’s not like I’d disagree.” There’s a smugness in his voice that makes my chest ache. “We’ve traded a couple of kisses. He’s sweet with them, isn’t he? Makes you feel special. Wanted.”
I can’t give him an answer. Not with the way my throat closes up.
“It’s a dare, big brother. Atlas is experimenting with you because I dared him to.”
I know that’s not the truth. I know Atlas would never toy with me over a dare. But he’s never actually told me about it. Not as Atlas. Not as A. He isn’t the type to back down or ignore a dare, and I don’t know if he’s told Shiloh about his suspicions of being ace. It’s not my place to out him.
“I know,” I say, because this isn’t a corner I can back myself out of. “I’m not taking him from you. I know this isn’t serious.”
“Then tell him that.”
If a single sentence could stop my heart, it would be that one. “What do you mean?”
“Tell him you aren’t serious about him. That whatever is going on between you is done. You were right. My head was in my ass over what I wanted from Atty. I want him. In every way, shape, and form. And I think he’d realize he wants me too if we just talked about it.”
And isn’t that what I keep pressing Atlas about? That he’s sure his feelings for Shiloh aren’t romantic? I’m not the only one who’s suspected. But it hurts like hell to think about pushing him towards that conclusion and it being true.
Atlas and I might have an incredible connection, but it will never be anything compared to what he and Shiloh share. It’s a hard, bitter truth I’ve been doing my best to ignore.
What am I supposed to do? Tell my little brother that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with his best friend and that I want to keep exploring this connection even knowing how Shiloh feels about him?
My family is enough in shambles as it is. I can’t lose him too.
“Okay.” The word falls out of my mouth like snow down a frozen bank: soft but fragile.
“Have I told you lately you’re the best big brother ever?” There’s a wide grin in his voice, and even though I feel the fog rolling back in, feel my throat closing up and tears prickling in my eyes, I don’t hold his excitement against him.
When we hang up, there’s a weight in my chest I’m not sure any amount of drawing can cage away. I knew I needed to make a decision.
Atlas and I are interconnected to each other in a cosmic way: a binding way. He’s as woven into my life as Shiloh, not by blood but by a friendship and brotherhood with too many layers to untangle.
This new thread would throw kinks into the mix we could never work out. Ones that could affect not only our relationship with each other but also our individual relationships with Shiloh.
But even without the words, without the full acknowledgement of what we mean to each other—or at least what Atlas means to me—this new connection has been working its way inside our hearts.
Torching it could set fire to every thread that runs between us.
Including the ones entangled with my brother.
We take this chance or we don’t, but either decision feels like plucking petals off heartstrings and waiting to see where the wind carries them.
I made my choice, and my heart may never recover from it.
Chapter 22
