Page 190 of Five Brothers

I inhale the scent, drawing it in again and again, the memory of that day in the sun, next to the sea as I raced through the wind. A great summer day.

Fisting the shower handle, I brace myself, jerking it right. I hold my breath as it only takes about two seconds for the water to go from hot to cold. Forcing my neck under the spray, I let the icy water coat my back, and then I raise my head, dousing my face. I exhale, my head clearing. Jesus, that helps. I do it every shower now.

She’s smart. And yeah, I like her ridiculous candles.

I plant my hands on the wall, letting the water spill down my chest. I like her girly music, and how she sings to Dex, and the way her body looks in my sweatpants. And how her feet were curled into mine when I woke up this morning.

I look down, seeing my dick hard.

I slam my hand down on the handle, cutting off the water and grabbing my towel. Quickly drying, I dress, pulling on jeans and taking out a T-shirt. I swing it over my shoulder as I dry off my hair. Crossing the room, I stop and look at the bed, sheets crumpled and the dent of our heads still in the pillows.

I hesitate for only a moment. Walking over, I pull up the bedding, smoothing it out, and fluff the pillows. It’s not military-style, but it’s better than yesterday.

I draw in a deep breath.Okay.

Heading downstairs, I stop about halfway, looking around and listening. The house is silent.

There’s nothing.

I keep walking, checking the grandfather clock in the foyer as I pass.Ten after seven.

They’re not usually gone yet.

I step into the kitchen, seeing Krisjen pull a pan out of the oven.

The hair on my arms rises, and I’m not sure if it’s because it smells like steak, or because I’m looking at her.

She smiles at me and takes the tongs, placing a rib eye on a plate.

I pour a cup of coffee. “Where is everybody?”

She sighs. “They were rushing off when I got up,” she tells me.

“It’s supposed to rain later, so they wanted to get all the jobs done before it starts.”

They wanted to get all the jobs done …

Jesus fucking Christ. Are they all trying to make me proud or something?

She hands me the plate, and I look down at it, replying, “I’m not …”

But then I stop, shutting my mouth. Staring at the meat and the juices pooling around it, I force myself to let go. To follow her lead.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

She says nothing, simply turning back to the dishes, and I take my food to the table, sitting down as she sets a knife and fork next to the plate.

I stick the steak with my fork, my stomach grumbling at the feel of how tender the meat is. My mouth waters.

I take a bite, the taste and the char making me nearly fucking groan. Jesus. I hurry, slicing into the meat again as I chew and swallow the first bite.

She sets down a glass in front of me, starting to walk away, but I call her back. “Can you put it in a coffee cup or something? I can’t have people seeing me drink a pink smoothie.”

She snorts, trying to contain her laughter as she picks up theglass and carries it back to the kitchen. Digging out a mug, she transfers the fruity drink.

I take another bite and stuff in another, while she disappears into the pantry. I gulp down half the smoothie, the breeze blowing the curtains at my side.

I take another bite, looking up to see Army half-dressed and frozen in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room.