Page 5 of PS: I Hate You
“Yeah, but I’m all grown-up now. I can take you anywhere you wanna go.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Carter snorts.
“Are you hitting on me at my brother’s funeral?”
Adam’s flirty smirk falls away. “Oh shit. Sorry. That was insensitive.”
“No. It’s okay.” I reach out and pat his chest. The guy put on a lot of muscle in the last seven years. “You were doing great. Keep going.”
His face lights up like the time I gave him all the Kit Kats from my Halloween candy haul. “Really? Okay. You remember that purple bikini you wore—”
“No.” The word, spoken in a deep, unrelenting voice, cuts off Adam’s flattery.
I almost forgot Dom was in the room. Okay…that’s a lie. But when he wasn’t talking, I found it easier to pretend.
Adam pouts, staring over my shoulder. “What? I was going to compliment Maddie.”
“Not like that,” Dom growls from behind me, and I suppress a shudder, hating that every cell in my being wants to turn and examine the expression on his face.
I keep my attention on Adam.
“I want to hear the compliment,” I say. Would be nice to get a confidence boost after the mom and grandma treatment.
Adam’s smile returns, pairing with a too-innocent expression. “Thank you, Maddie. I was very respectfully going to say that the purple bikini”—he pauses, waiting for his older brother to cut him off again. Dom stays silent, so Adam continues, speaking fast—“had your tits looking fantastic and played a starring role in my teenage spank bank.”
“Adam!” Mrs.Perry gasps while Carter coughs into his fist and Dom lets out a snarl, his body coming into view on my left side as he charges for his brother.
But I make it there first.
I fling my arms around Adam’s neck, and the big man lifts me up in a crushing embrace.
“Thank you,” I mutter into his neck. “I needed that.”
“Anytime.” He lowers his voice to match mine. “If you need to relax, come find me. I got some pot I can share. High-quality stuff. Only the best for Maddie Sanderson.”
When he sets me on the ground, I find myself doing something I did not expect to do today.
I laugh.
The idea that Dom has tried his hardest to exert control over his wayward brothers—a task he’s had since he was nine—but one still managed to sneak weed into a funeral brings me an immense amount of joy.
“You really know how to woo a lady.” I chuckle. “Thanks for thegenerousoffer.”
Dom scowls between the two of us, unaware of what, exactly, his little brother just whispered in my ear.
Well, isn’t he lucky to have a living brother to be pissed at.The thought reminds me of my own anger, my loss, and the reason I let Dom drag me to this room.
“You said something about executing,” I prompt him, trying not to let my fury at his role show in my voice.
Dom lingers a moment more before striding over to a table and picking up an accordion folder. He undoes the tie, keeping the flap closed as he speaks to the small gathering. “Josh’s will stated there are letters in here for everyone in this room.”
A letter. My palms sweat and my heart races and I envision my brother’s specter again, ready to chat with me postmortem. That’s all I want. More time with him.
Dom pulls out envelopes one by one, reading out the names. “Cecilia Sanderson. Florence Sanderson. Mom—looks like this is for you and Dad. Carter. Adam.”
Me me me. Say my name. Give me the letter!
“Rosaline.”
I flinch and jerk my chin to the side in time to see the woman step forward and accept her piece of my brother. With her bronze curls pinned in a high bun away from her cheeks, I have a clear view of the tears cascading from her thick-lashed eyes.Well, there’s someone who cries pretty.Rosaline even makes grief look beautiful.