The fact that I’m not particularly likable has never really bothered me before. I don’t need people to like me. Don’t even want them to, really. I don’t need friends. People who care about me because I’d be obligated to care for them back and the whole thing is just fucking tiresome.

I’m just not good at it.

Not like Conner. He’s the goddamned King of the Freaks but somehow he’s managed to fool everyone into believing he’s this normal functioning kid who sleeps and eats and fails tests like everyone else.

To be honest, I think that might be why I hate him so much. His perfect candy shell that hides his fucked-up nougat center. Everyone loves him. Wants him.

My brother and I are nothing alike.

And for the first time in my life, I wish we were. I regret not having someone. A friend. A brother. Someone to talk to. Ask for advice.

I don’t need a deep and meaningful.

I don’t need to hug it out.

I just need to know what to get Tess for her birthday because it’s next week and I still don’t have a fucking clue. When I asked her what she wanted, she just shrugged and said tie a ribbon around your dick.

She’s got a one-track mind and it’s getting harder and harder to keep her in check.

Pun intended.

“If you were gonna buy Tess a present, what would you get her?” I aim gaze out the window when I ask but I can feel the puzzled look he gives me just the same. We don’t usually talk unless it’s about the job. Where we’re going. How long it should take me to get in and get out. Where to meet up if I have to ditch the car.

“Tess?” I can hear it in his voice. Puzzlement, giving way to comprehension. “Tesla Castinetti?”

For some reason, hearing Ryan call her Tesla bothers me. Tightens my jaw. Stiffens my shoulders. “You know another Tess?”

He doesn’t answer my question. Doesn’t look at me either. He just aims his glare out the windshield and drives. “You want to buy Tess a gift?”

“That’s not what I said.” I shoot a look in his direction. “I asked what you’d get if you were going to buy one for her.”

He doesn’t answer me for a while. Just drives, glare aimed through the windshield. Finally he spits out what’s been banging around in his head for the past five minutes.

“Stay away from her.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, asshole,” he snarls at me through clenched teeth. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

“Stay away from Tess?” This is where I laugh. Ask him what the hell he’s talking about. What the fuck is your problem? I’m just making conversation and you go and lose your goddamned mind. I could say do that. Say that. I could sell it, no problem.

But I don’t.

We catch a red light and he stops short like he was thinking about running it but remembered who we are. What we’re out here doing in the middle of the night.

“Pretty sure I didn’t stutter.” Ryan is a lot of things. A bitch isn’t one of them.

“I’m having a hard time seeing where it’s any of your business,” I say, even though I’m the one who opened the door. Even though it is his business, if only because if I fuck this thing up, he could get hurt.

Or worse.

A lot worse.

But that’s not what this is about. He doesn’t give a shit about the fact that my poor judgment might blow back on him.

Not really.

This is about Tess.

If I had my brother’s brain, I’d be able to look back over every interaction I’ve ever witnessed between the two of them with perfect clarity. I’d be able to see what I missed.

But there’s only one I remember clearly.

The day of her mother’s funeral. The way he stood over her, hands shoved into the pockets of one of Con’s old suits. Chin tipped down so he can look at her, his mouth moving in an earnest murmur.

That’s the memory of them that pops into my head when I think of them together.

But it’s enough.

It tells me everything I need to know.

The light turns green. He doesn’t move. “Tess is my business,” he says, pretty much confirming my suspicions. “She’s a good girl. She deserves better than—”

I finally look at him. “Me.” I finish it for him, pushing a smirk on to my face even though saying it makes me feel sick. “You’re right, Tess does deserve better than me—a lot better. But from where I’m sitting, better sure as fuck isn’t you, so if I were you, I’d shut my fucking mouth.”

He doesn’t answer me. I watch his hands work around the steering wheel. Gripping and flexing, like he’s struggling as much as I am. Like he’s holding on to is the only thing keeping him from launching himself across the car and try to tear out my throat.

“Light’s green,” I say, practically daring him to do it. “We gonna go or what?”

Like I said, Ryan isn’t a bitch but he isn’t stupid either. He knows what I’m saying. He also knows how things will go if he makes a move.

I’m just not sure he cares.

Just when I think things are about to get bloody, he punches the gas and shoots through the intersection on a yellow.