knowing how much he and Sebastian don’t get along. I glance back at Bass’s room, wondering if I should go back inside, but Abby does need some food, and honestly, it’s freaking me out that Sebastian is missing. That he left me here in this strange place all alone, after...
Maybe something is wrong.
I make the decision and continue down the hallway. I take the steps slowly, warily, the scent of pancake batter and butter wafting up the staircase. My steps falter when I hear voices below.
“So?” a guy asks, his voice deeper than Sebastian’s.
“So what?” Bass replies, voice flat and low.
“Don’t be dense.” The other guy sounds mean, taunting. “Who’s the girl you were banging headboards with all night? All the noise coming out of there, she sounded like a screamer.”
I practically feel my own face pale at the realization we hadn’t been as alone as we thought last night. Did he really hear us?
“Jesus, shut the fuck up.” Even from a distance I can hear the fury building in his tone. “It’s none of your business.”
The guy hums, like maybe he’s considering it. If he does, he quickly discards the idea. “I don’t think I will. Bringing a chick home? Not your usual MO, baby bro.” He’s interrupted by the sizzle of the frying pan. “Don’t tell me you even let your precious mommy meet her, because that really would be a first.”
The truth is that he hadn’t. He mentioned her. He talked about her a lot, but seemed careful—maybe too careful—to keep me away from that side of the house. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, figuring he just didn’t want to disturb her, but now it feels like an intentional avoidance.
“Hes,” Bass says, voice painfully tight, “I don’t know why the fuck you’re home right now, but trust me, had I known you’d be here, I never would have brought anyone.”
“Hiding her from me? Why? Is she ugly? Stupid? Is she poor?” He drags out the last one.
“She’s just a friend,” Sebastian barks out.
I press a hand to my lower belly, still able to feel the lingering sensation of him inside of me from the night before. That’s twice now he’s introduced me as a ‘friend.’ Once to Liesel and now to Heston. Not at all to his mother. I know in my heart, my soul, that we’re definitely more than friends. He said he loved me. My mind spirals, thinking back to how he only told me that before or after we fooled around, each time breaking my barriers a little bit more.
“You make friends breakfast after fucking them? I don’t think so.” Heston laughs. “Afraid she’ll see me and want a real man instead of some jacked-up pretty boy, like Sydney did?”
I grip the railing, face twisting in confusion. Sydney? Rakestraw?
Bass’s laugh is like barbed wire. “You’re so fucking deluded. You and Syd deserve each other. I bet you didn’t even delete that video of you fucking her like a ragdoll.”
“Why would I? Our faces aren’t even in it, and Sydney knows her place in our relationship.”
“Relationship?” Bass asks, voice getting louder, more irate. “Everything you say is bullshit, Heston. You’re not in a relationship with Sydney, you’re in some kind of abusive, twisted, manipulative flirting-with-prison situation that’s not going to end well for either of you. You’re just too fucking sadistic to give a shit.”
I blink, heart pounding in my ears, and ease down the stairs, getting to a place where I can see the two of them. Bass is standing over the industrial-sized range, pouring dollops of pancake batter on a large griddle. His movements are oddly brittle, automatic. There’s a plate of burned pancakes pushed to the side, and a smudge of flour across his forehead. Despite the domestic look of it all, his shoulders are tight, face set like stone.
Heston leans against the counter with his legs crossed at the ankles, watching his brother closely. “This whole diversionary tactic is bush league. Tell me about the girl.” His voice makes a shiver of fear crawl up my spine. Not a question, but a slow, threatening demand.
Sebastian cuts him a look, hand gripping the spatula. “Stay out of my fucking business.” Now that I can see him, I realize that he’s not just pissed off. He’s nervous. When he goes to flip a pancake, his hand is clearly shaking.
“You’re the one who brought her home,” Heston reasons, shrugging. “It’s not like I barged into your dorm and sniffed her