Page 220 of Five Brothers

It’s light out, way past dawn, but I don’t know what time it is. The guys might be at work by now.

My hands shake, but I don’t know why. I’m not fucking mad. Or upset. I feel nothing. She’s nothing. Not special.

Traffic blurs in front of me, and I blink, feeling my eyes wet. I dig the heel of my palm in to clear my vision.They’ll probably be at work by now.

The road stretches in front of me, trees breeze past—cars—and I’m on autopilot. One arm stretched out with a hand on the wheel,the other propped up on the door, my hand gliding through my hair over and over again.

“Don’t.” I jerked away. “I don’t like that.”

I tongued the inside of my lip, tasting my blood.

She squeezed my neck. “Just get hard,” she tells me. “That’s your job.”

I can’t breathe. It hurts. My head is throbbing. Fuck.

A horn honks, and I snap to, veering to the side of the road. I stop and drop my head in my hand, tensing every muscle to keep the pain at bay.

I didn’t think about it for years. Every time it crept in, I pushed it away, not because what I had to do was so horrible, but what they wanted from me was.

People fuck for money all time, but they weren’t paying for sex. They were paying to fuck a servant. A nonperson.

I’d never had sex with a woman I didn’t like before that. I always knew her. Liked her. There had never been a one-night stand. It had never made me feel bad.

And after a while, I didn’t see Krisjen as anything other than what she really was. Beautiful. A good person. She’s bright and amazing. St. Carmen no longer existed when I saw her.

The last thing she deserves is me. She should have someone good. She deserves a clean slate.

I’ll never get out of this fucking hole I’m in.

She’ll never look at me the same.

I don’t know how I get home because I don’t remember the streets or the traffic lights, but I drift through my front door, hearing, “Hey.”

I turn my head as my brothers rise from their chairs, fully dressed. They blur in my vision, but I see Trace’s smile. He looks five again when he smiles like that.

“Damn …” he says, looking me up and down approvingly. My shirt is ripped open, and I don’t know where the tie is.

“You stayed the night,” I hear Dallas say. “Must’ve …”

But they all stop, their smiles fading as they look at my eyes. I turn away and start for the stairs.

I’m sweating. My clothes stick to my skin. The ceiling feels too low.

“What happened?” Army moves toward me.

“Nothing.” I climb the steps, afraid to look back at him. My hand shakes. I grab the railing to steady it.

“Why don’t you guys go—”

“I’m just gonna take a shower,” I choke out, my pulse racing in my ears. “I’ll follow.”

“Macon …”

“Go to work. All of you,” I call out, trying to lighten my voice.

“I’m close behind.”

I can’t breathe.