I woke to his hands on my body.

It was late, and I didn’t expect to hear from him. He told me he had too much work, and I went to sleep. But now here he was, in my apartment. He never came to my apartment, except for that first day.

Something cool glided over my back, and I realized he was putting aloe on my skin.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he whispered.

I rolled to face him and curled up in his arms. He held me and fanned my hair across his chest the way he liked. I squeezed him tighter, hoping he wouldn’t go. I could feel his pulse against my skin, lulling me to sleep like a sweet melody.

This was becoming a problem. But I craved him in these ways. The unexpected ones. Like his forehead kisses, or the way he pulled me closer in his sleep. He wanted me to accept these things. He took everything I gave and still demanded more. Always more.

But how much more could I give him? Nothing had changed. Why did I keep forgetting that? How could I do this to Brayden?

“Stop thinking,” he whispered. “Just let me take care of you.”

It was easy when he gave me the order. I didn’t have to think. I just did what he said without question. So I nuzzled closer and let sleep carry me away.

 

***

 

It was the weekend which meant we were spending it on Belvedere Island.

Ryland was working in his office, and I was writing a letter to Brayden. It was risky doing it here, but I was falling behind.

My guilt had been eating at me, and Brayden was suffering for it. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. I loved my brother more than anything, and I wanted to believe I was doing this for him. That was true at the start, but was that still the case?

I still had no idea what Ryland’s motives were. Getting information out of him was like pulling teeth. I knew nothing about his family. The only time he’d spoken of them was when he mentioned his father, but that was in the past tense. Also, Ted had let it slip that he’d been his driver since he was a young child.

Ted probably had a whole vault of information on Ryland, but could I pry it out of him? I highly doubted it. He seemed as loyal as they came. On the ride over tonight, I’d hedged towards the subject, and he quickly shut it down. He may have been older, but he was sharp as a tack.

So that left nothing but my brain to connect the dots. I needed to find a way to get Brayden to talk about him without alerting Ryland. But so far, I was coming up empty.

It was late, and I was tired, so I put my things away and changed into my pajamas. I was sure Ryland would be in soon enough, so I curled up and fell asleep.

 

***

 

I woke with a rush of air from my lungs and a racing heart. When I glanced around the dark room, panic threatened to engulf me. I flicked on the bedside lamp, expecting to find someone beside me. But I was alone, and a glance at the clock confirmed it was three am.

I didn’t know what had woken me, but a chill came over me as I clutched my arms around my chest. I was shaking.

I padded to the ottoman and wrapped a silk bathrobe around me before tiptoeing down the hall. The house was much larger when I was walking through it by myself, and much darker too. Though it was incredibly beautiful, there was also a haunted quality to it. The more time I spent here, the more I noticed that lingering sense of despair.

I poked my head into each room I passed, most of which opened without protest. There was a library on this floor where I often spent time, along with a state of the art gym. Several empty rooms with sterile bedding sat untouched, and I gathered these were probably guest rooms.

When I reached the staircase, I lowered my foot to go downstairs to the office where Ryland would most likely be. But then my curiosity got the best of me, and I moved upwards instead.

The first couple of floorboards creaked under the weight of my feet, and I carefully tested every one after to find the right spot. I didn’t like sneaking around, but I needed to know what Ryland’s motives were. Even if that meant I had to dig them up myself.

I made it up to the next level, only to be shocked by the state of it. Dim lights flickered along the corridor, highlighting the dust bunnies that had made this level home. While every other area of the house was immaculate, this one lay untouched. One corner of the wallpaper hung in tatters while several burnt out lights stood out like sore thumbs.

I tiptoed down the hall, wrapping my robe around me tightly. Even the air up here was cooler too.  I jiggled the first doorknob I came to, only to be met with the resistance of a lock. The knob was an old-fashioned type that appeared to take some sort of skeleton key.

I found it odd but continued on my way, only to be met with the same resistance at every door. But at the end of the hall, a sliver of light spilled into the hallway, giving me hope my venture wouldn’t be completely fruitless.

I moved closer, holding my breath as I placed my hand on the wood, preparing to open it further. But before I could, I caught a glimpse of movement inside.

Ryland was sitting on the floor, cross-legged with a box in his lap as he sorted through the contents. His back was facing the door, and I couldn’t make out what he was looking at when he pulled something from the box. Whatever it was, he stared at it for a long time. The tension in his body was obvious, and instinctively I knew this was something he wouldn’t want me seeing.

My eyes wandered around the room, taking in whatever little details I could. Masculine colors dominated the bed and the few random items of clothing that were strewn about. It was odd that it was so messy and looked so lived in. It wasn’t Ryland’s room, but it was definitely a man’s room. There were stacks of CDs on the dresser covered in at least an inch of dust. A signed poster from a rock band hung from the wall, and there was a PlayStation and about a million games beneath it.

On the bedside table was a picture frame, and it was tilted just enough that it was out of my line of sight. I mentally debated whether I’d be able to reach through the door and turn it without alerting Ryland, but I chickened out at the last second.

He made a noise in his throat, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. He closed up the box of contents he’d been looking at, and I was sure he was about to get up.

But instead, he slumped forward and braced his head in his hands.

It was this moment that something broke inside of me. What I witnessed was pure, undiluted pain. I hadn’t seen it before. He’d used his anger to hide it, the same way I’d seen Brayden often do. But this was so much worse. This told me something horrible happened to Ryland Bennett. And that’s how I knew I was royally fucked. Because I cared, and I shouldn’t have.

It became obvious I was no longer playing a game to save my brother. I was falling for the very man who’d coerced me into it. 

 

***

 

The weight of the bed dipped when he laid down beside me. I quieted my breathing as I debated what I should do. I could pretend I was asleep. That I hadn’t witnessed what I just had. It was the smart thing to do. The thing my self-preservation was screaming at me to do. But it wasn’t what my heart wanted.

I rolled towards him and pressed my palm against his chest. It was bare, and even now I could feel the scars that marred it. They were thick and jagged, spanning the length of his rib cage up to his chest. I wondered what could have hurt him so badly and I hoped that someday, he would finally tell me.

“Did I wake you?” he asked softly.

I didn’t answer. I clutched his face in my hands and pulled his lips to mine. I needed him inside me. Why, I couldn’t explain. But I did.

Ryland didn’t protest when I climbed on top of him and unceremoniously pulled down his waistband until his cock sprang free. My fever quickly spread to him as his hands tugged at the silk camisole I was wearing, trying to free it from my body.

He ended up settling for pushing it around my waist as I sank down onto his erection, thrusting my entire body forward for his pleasure. His hands pawed at my breasts while I rocked against him, making him groan with every movement.

When his mouth wrapped around my nipple, I cried out his name. We both went wild with need, using each other for our own desperate pleasure… sucking and nipping, gripping and pulling. My tongue, my breasts, my hair… they all became objects of his desire while I clutched at his arms and kissed along his neck. It was the strangest combination of sex we’d ever had. Raw, animal fucking interspersed with sweet passion.

He would bite me and pull my hair, then soothe it with a gentle caress while he kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. When I finally hit the crescendo, he threaded his fingers through mine before allowing his own release a moment later.

Once it was all over, silence engulfed the room around us. I had no words, and apparently neither did he. He moved to pull out, but I couldn’t let him. Not yet. I needed him there, inside of me, connected to me… where he belonged.

Ryland groaned as he flipped me onto my back and began to pulse inside of me with the smallest of movements while he kissed every inch of my face. The room was still dark, save for the light of the moon that spilled in through the curtain. And in that darkness, I felt safe with him. Safe to let myself be vulnerable in his arms.

He spent the rest of the night inside of me, savoring every moment as if it were a gift. When he finally collapsed and pulled me into his arms, I asked him again the question that haunted me.

“Why me, Ryland?”

He kissed me on the forehead and gave me the same answer he had before as he pulled me closer. “It could only ever be you.”

The sun was coming up, but I wasn’t tired, and by the pattern of his breathing he wasn’t going to sleep either. Still, I hadn’t expected him to speak, so when he did, it surprised me.

“Sometimes I ask myself the same thing,” he admitted. “It was logical for me to choose you, but I didn’t think I wanted to. Everything changed when I saw you that day. When I learned everything there was to know about you.”

“You couldn’t possibly know everything about me,” I replied. “Only what you’ve seen on paper.”

“Try me,” he suggested.

“Okay…” I mulled this over for a moment before asking him the dumbest question I could think of. “How do I take my pancakes?”

“With peanut butter and powdered sugar. A disgusting combination by the way.”

I stared at him with my mouth gaping as I processed his words. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I told you.” He shrugged. “I know everything there is to know about you, Brighton.”

“That isn’t true,” I argued, desperate to prove my point. “You can’t know my thoughts. My feelings.”

He was quiet for a moment before he conceded. “I suppose there is one thing I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Whether you still think I’m a monster or not.”

His voice was distant again, but I didn’t let it affect me or my response. I’d been vulnerable enough to him already tonight, and this little game he was playing was a very real reminder of our circumstances.

“Does it matter what I think?” I turned the words back around on him.

There was a long pause before he answered. “It shouldn’t.”

I didn’t have time to think of a response because a moment later he kissed me on the cheek and rolled out of bed.

“I’m going for a run,” he said. “Get some sleep, Brighton.”

 

***

 

I sat out on the back porch, sipping a steaming cup of hot coffee. The fog from the bay rolled off the water and into the back yard, completing the eery feeling of this house.

Ryland had been gone for over two hours, and I couldn’t sleep without him. I didn’t bother venturing up to the third level again because it was too creepy to consider.

I didn’t understand how he could spend any time here alone. The sorrow that surrounded this house was deep and profound, and I wondered why Ryland would even own a place like this. The more I uncovered about him, the more I was convinced that something horrible happened in his past.

Before I could stop myself, I pulled up google on my phone. But instead of typing in Ryland’s name, I typed in something else that I was certain I never would again.

Lockhart Family in Chicago.

Article after article flooded the results, and I hovered over them with a hesitant finger. I didn’t want to see their faces. To see the entire family my brother had eradicated. But I couldn’t stop myself this time.

I skipped over the articles about the accident and moved to the biographical information. I focused my search efforts on the only remaining survivor, Michael Lockhart. The patriarch of the family and a well-loved businessman, he seemed for all intents and purposes to have the perfect life. His business was based out of Chicago, but it stated he was from California originally. It would have been a little too coincidental for my liking if it weren’t for the next piece of information I stumbled on.

I was surprised to learn his life had also been cut short not long after the accident.

Michael Lockhart, age 49 passed away from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. The shocking news comes only six months after the death of his wife Katherine and children Jackson and Sophia in a tragic hit and run…

My stomach knotted, and bile rose in my throat. I didn’t want to know anymore. I couldn’t.

Then as if the universe had a sick sense of humor, my cell phone rang a God-awful tone, making me wince.

“Hello?” I answered wearily.  

Norma-Jean and I didn’t talk very often. So if she was calling, there must be a good reason.

“Brighton, it’s your… it’s Norma-Jean,” she replied in her gravelly tone.

If I wasn’t concerned before, the fact she’d almost said it’s your mother sent alarm bells off inside my head. Not since I was ten years old had she allowed me to call her that. During one of her phases, she decided to reinvent herself, scrounging up the money to change her name. She went into the courthouse as Patty Valentine and came out as Norma-Jean Richmond. She said she thought it made her sound classier. I silently rebutted that she was only fooling herself.

“What’s going on?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line which only made me more anxious.

“What is it, Norma?” I demanded. “Is Brayden okay?”

“He’s been attacked again,” she spat out as though it were somehow my fault.

Blood roared in my ears, and I had to hold onto to the table to keep myself upright.

“How bad is it?” I croaked.

This wasn’t the first time Brayden had been attacked. He’d been a target from the moment he stepped foot in the MCC. By the time his sentence was handed down, and he was transferred to Greenville, his face had been splashed across every major news outlet that ever existed. People all over the nation paused to shed tears for the victims of the horrific crime that had taken place. It was a story that pulled at the heartstrings of every man, woman, and child… myself included. But someone had to stand by Brayden’s side, and that someone was me. He was my twin brother, my lifeblood, and I knew in my heart he wasn’t capable of such recklessness.

“He’s in Greenville Regional,” my mother’s voice crackled through the phone. “And those fuckin’ nurses won’t tell me shit. They think they’re so much better than me…”

I could imagine why. Norma-Jean didn’t know how to ask something tactfully. But I was past the point of relying on her for anything, including information.

“I need to go,” I said. “I have to see what’s going on.”

My mother huffed and started her typical spiel about how ungrateful I was that she’d raised us on her own. I disconnected the line and steadied my hand as I tried to type in Ryland’s name, but before I could, I saw his figure in the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” I asked. 

“Long enough to know what that phone call was about.”

“Did you know?” I accused. “Did you already know about this?”

“I only found out five minutes ago myself,” he replied.

He just stood there. As if he had all the time in the world to relay this information.

“And?” I pushed.

“And as far as I know, he’s in critical but stable condition.”

“I have to go to him.” I thrust the chair backward as I stood. “I’m going now.”

A dark look passed over Ryland’s face, and it made my blood boil. I no longer cared what his issues were.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I walked up and shoved my hands against his chest. “He’s my brother. You told me he was your friend. And if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I swear I will slap that expression right off your face!”

He pinned my arms to the side to subdue me and crushed me against his chest.

“I know he’s your brother,” he whispered in my ear. “I wish he wasn’t, but I know he is.”

I pulled away from him and swiped at the angry tears that spilled from my eyes as I shook my head in disbelief. It broke my heart that anyone could hate Brayden so much.

“How can you talk like that?” I demanded. “He’s a good person. He didn’t even do anything to deserve this!”

“Didn’t he?” he asked in a hollow voice. “If that’s the case, then why did he plead guilty, Brighton? Have you ever stopped to consider that? Why he let the person who committed the crime walk away scot-free?”

I clamped my mouth shut as I processed his bitter words. He had a point. It was a question I’d asked myself a thousand times. But now that I knew Brayden wasn’t guilty, nothing else mattered. I knew his character. I knew what was in his heart, and he would never intentionally hurt anybody.

“What does any of that have to do with you?” I hissed. “Why do you care what Brayden did or didn’t do?”

His phone chimed, interrupting our conversation.

“Ted’s here to take you to the airport.”

He reached into his pocket and retrieved something before sliding it onto my wrist. A new GPS bracelet.

His fingers feathered over the metal while I scowled at him.

“Brighton?”

“What?” I snapped.

“Be careful.”

He released me with a pained expression. I hesitated only a moment before making my way into the house. I couldn’t think about Ryland right now. I couldn’t feel bad for him. But I did, and I didn’t even know why. But fuck him. Fuck him for always making me feel this way. Brayden was my main concern right now, and I wasn’t going to apologize for that.

I decided to bring the clothing I had with me, so I didn’t have to stop by my apartment. Ted was waiting in the parlor, taking the items off my hands as he ushered me to the car. I was thankful he understood my impatience in this situation, and that he moved as fast as he was able.

The drive back to San Francisco was beautiful, or so Ted said. But I didn’t see any of it. Only when we pulled up to the airport did I begin to relax.

Ted came around and opened my door, and when I stepped out of the car, there was a private jet awaiting our arrival.

“That’s not…”

I tripped over the words as Ted guided me up the steps and onto the plane.

“Mr. Bennett insisted you be taken to Illinois without delay,” he said. “And that I accompany you, should you need anything.”

I stared up at him blankly and wanted to tell him that wasn’t necessary. But the more I thought about it, the more I was grateful for his presence. If only to know I wasn’t alone.