the part Shayne had played, or how his behavior had destroyed me more than anyone else’s.
Shame had kept that from them—my shame at what he’d done and also my shame at still loving him despite that.
Really, I couldn’t blame Kairo for hiring Shayne to create the marketing and promotion pictures for his group. In my head, Shayne’s talent as a photographer was still undisputed—he was easily the best Lakeshore had to offer.
Unfortunately.
And Kairo had been even further removed from all of my school drama due to our age gap, although he would have been first in line to teach Shayne any lessons he felt he needed to learn. Still would be, so I needed to handle this situation with care.
The old shame still lingered, along with a very unwelcome curiosity about Shayne and how he’d matured over the past seven years. Would his skin smell different? Taste different?
I shook my head. I didn’t even want to know. I wouldn’t let myself want to know.
The desire to rant at Kairo like I’d wanted to when I first called him left me, and I heaved a deep sigh. “You might not remember, but I—” I swallowed as I played down my relationship with Shayne. “I knew Shayne at school. Before I transferred. Why didn’t you tell me he’d be there?”
Kairo sighed too, but his was the more the sigh of a guy who’d been caught out. “I had an idea you two had hung out at school, and I also know what you’re like if you ever think about the past—you’re afraid to put yourself out there and the worry you might see someone from high school prevents you from doing things. Simply, I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
I chuckled drily. Apparently Kairo knew me pretty well.
“That would have been bad for you and bad for the kids left without a mentor. I know how much you have to offer. I know how much other people enjoy being around you, Leo.” His voice softened at the end and my chest squeezed at the validation from my brother.
I stayed quiet, trying to swallow my emotion before I responded.
“Admit it.” He laughed lightly. “You would have made up an excuse not to come.”
I couldn’t deny it. I would have totally made up an excuse not to go. I had ready excuses on stand-by. Hundreds of them. “You still could have warned me. That would have been nice.” My voice came out as a low grumble, but Kairo laughed again.
“I agree, and I’m sorry for blind-siding you. I shouldn’t have tried to play God like that.” He fell silent, but it was almost like I could hear his brain still working, and finally he spoke again. “What did this guy do to you that you don’t even want to bump into him? I mean, he’s Kane’s brother, right? So, you’re going to see him at any party that gets the Abbotts and the Caldwells together.”
“Not if I can help it.” I grumbled that response too as I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. Anything to distract my thoughts from Shayne.
“But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He obviously wants to reconnect.” Confusion rang in Kairo’s tone. “Only you seem to hate him. Why is that?”
I sucked in a quick breath. I’d imagined the moment one of my brothers would want to know more many times. I just hadn’t planned how to answer, and I especially hadn’t planned for that answer to be over the phone. It shouldn’t have been easier because I couldn’t see Kairo, but neither could he see me to know how hard this was for me to talk about.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “I’ll tell you, but it was all seven years ago now.”
“It still affects you, though, so it’s clearly still important,” he said.
“Mm.” I didn’t want to acknowledge how important. “I used to love Shayne,” I said, keeping my voice detached and neutral. “Back in high school, he was my boyfriend.” I paused. “At least, I thought he was. I was his first gay experience, though.”
Kairo snorted. “I hate being someone’s experiment.”
“Yeah. Well, like you’d expect, Shayne wanted it kept secret.”
Kairo snorted again.
“It wasn’t really like that.” Out of nowhere, I found myself defending Shayne as I stood up from the couch and opened the fridge door. “His home life wasn’t at all like ours. He was really unhappy. He didn’t have it as easy as I had it—and certainly not with his sexuality. I was a