Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,200

steer right from the last time!”

Across the room, Georgia and Sugar turn, faces falling in exasperation at our standoff.

“It steers fine!” my brother demands, looking affronted. “It’s not my fault you haven’t had an alignment since—”

“Why do you even care?” I burst, glaring up at him. “My car is shit. So what?”

He responds by puffing up his chest and snapping, “So let me change your fucking alternator!”

“Fine!” I snap back, tossing a hand toward the door. “Be my guest!”

Fuming, he stomps out the door, stopping just shy of slamming it behind him. Sugar doesn’t follow him, even though it looks like she wants to.

Instead, she diverts her path until she’s standing in front of me. She juts her chin out, that delicate-looking face of hers hardened into a scowl. “He’s trying, you know. Might be nice if you put your dick away for a few minutes and met him halfway.”

I look at the door incredulously. “Halfway to where? We hate each other. Always have. Suddenly, he wants to do something nice for me? Excuse the fuck out of me for having two brain cells to rub together, but I seriously doubt it.”

“Did it ever cross your mind that this might not be about doing something nice for you?” She raises her eyebrows, giving me a brash look. “Maybe it’s about Georgia and your mom wanting to see something better in you. Maybe he wants them to know that if it doesn’t work out, it won’t be because of him. Maybe he just wants to make them happy and this is the best way he knows how.”

With that, she spins on her heel and finally follows him, closing the door behind her.

I’m rubbing circuits into my temples when Georgia eases herself into my lap, gently pulling my wrists away. She replaces my fingers with her lips, planting a soft kiss on my temple.

“You look unhappy.” She sounds unhappy saying it, like I’m draining the cheer from her.

Which I probably am.

I wind my arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Only with myself.”

She frowns, holding my tired gaze. “Want to leave?”

“No.” It’s not a lie. “I just need a little time to talk myself into what I’m about to do.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Apologize,” I say, and inside something bucks angrily against the very idea. I tamp it down. “To my brother.”

Her eyes light up, mouth lifting into a surprised grin. “Really?”

I’m quick to temper that enthusiasm. “Don’t get your hopes up. We’re never going to get along.”

That’s what I remind myself as I step outside into the chilly air. Sebastian hates me. I bullied him for the majority of our childhood. That’s just the way it has to be. And Sebastian took my life from me. My status. My future. My family.

Only nowadays, it feels less like a loss.

“Hiding from the squealing?” Warren’s sitting on a bench, nestled into the darkness of a finely manicured garden that he probably has fuck-all to do with.

I glance out to the driveway, making out the shape of my brother curled beneath my hood.

Well, the apology isn’t going anywhere.

I take a seat at Warren’s side. “Nah, I just came out here to eat some crow.”

“Ah.” He nods, taking a drag from a cigarette. “That’s always fun.”

Sourly, I reply, “With as much as I’m chowing down, maybe I'll acquire a taste for it.”

“But not tonight,” he guesses, tipping his head toward the Honda. I shake my head, already dreading it. “Are you doing it for you, or are you doing it for her?” Jesus. This guy knows me too well. Laughing, he adds, “I’m not a shrink, Heston. There’s no wrong answer. I was just curious.”

“Both,” I say, cramming my hands in my pockets as I watch Sebastian dig into a toolbox. “But more for her, I guess.” Turning to him, I confess, “You know Georgia’s family. They wouldn’t want her slumming it with some socially disgraced assistant swim coach. It’s not enough.” I’m not enough.

“But they might accept a Wilcox,” he guesses, even if he does shake his head. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. Georgia’s her own person. She’d like their approval, but she doesn’t need it.”

I point out, “But she would like it.”

He nods. “Sure. Just so long as you’re doing it a little bit for you.”

We sit for a while, watching as Sugar hands Sebastian things from the toolbox. It’s always easiest with Warren. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t make me say I’m sorry when I lash out. He