Unspoken Vow (Steele Brothers 2)

I saw a photo of her on Brody’s phone once, and either she’s super photogenic, it was photoshopped, or she’s completely exhausted right now.

I’d say it’s the latter if she just flew in from the other side of the world, but her long brown hair is scraggly, her blue eyes dull, and she has a sad, weary look on her face.

Rachel lifts her feet, so I can join her on the couch, and the second I sit down, Meatball jumps on my lap. She kneads my stomach and purrs loudly.

“Ah. So you’re the reason my cat didn’t want anything to do with me.”

I pat the soft grey fur on Meatball’s head. “She kinda adopted me.”

“Not the other way around?”

“Not at all. I don’t like cats. Or … I didn’t until this one came along.”

Rachel smiles. “That’s how cats work. They choose their owners.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at her as I ask, “You’re not going to try to take her from me?”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life, so I don’t exactly have the means to look after a cat right now.” She stares at Meatball. “Though I’m a little sad she forgot I saved her.”

“I bet she hasn’t. If what you said is true, she probably knows I need her more than you do.”

“Why do you need her?”

“I don’t know. She’s a cat. Maybe her instincts are dumb.”

Rachel smiles again. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“So why can’t you sleep? Jet lag? Brody said you sleep like the dead.”

She throws her head back on the headrest of the couch. “It’s kind of just hitting me now that I’m home and have no direction. The plan was to stay over there longer, but in the last few days, we ran into some trouble and had to get out of there fast.”

I frown. “What kind of trouble?”

“Oh God, please don’t tell my stupidly overprotective brother.”

That sounds like something I would say.

“It really is safe over there as long as you use common sense. We were going into Guatemala City for more supplies, which we’d done so many times before, but we’d had trouble with a flat tyre on one of the trucks, which meant we’d gotten into the city late. There’s known gang activity there, and it was a wrong place wrong time situation, but it was bad. Like leave now with your lives or we’ll hunt you down type bad. So yeah, we basically dropped everything and went straight to the airport.”

“Shit. That must’ve been scary.”

“No scarier than facing a group of teenage boys hurting a cat.”

“Yeah, your brother told me how insane you are.”

“You guys use the word insane. I use the word brave.”

“If only you could give me some of that bravery.” Shit, did that come out loud?

“Why do you … Oh shit, are you like closeted or something? Is that why you were sneaking out of Brody’s room?”

“No, not closeted. Just … a little messed up.” It gets easier and easier to admit that.

“Well, I like messed up, and God knows Brody needs a bit of messy in his pristine existence.”

“You’ll be happy to know I bring a lot of messy to his life.”

“Good. Then I approve.”

I laugh. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

“So much for not interrogating me.”

In response, she grins wide.

I think Rachel and I are a lot alike, even though we’re opposites. She’s brave, impulsive, and strong. She’s everything I used to be and everything I wish to be again.

With any hope, hanging out with her will have her positive energy rubbing off on me, because I want to be more for Brody. No, actually, I want to be more for myself.

20

Brody

Coffee. Need brain fuel to make thoughts go.

Five thirty. Never an okay time to wake up but a necessity.

The thought of calling in sick crosses my mind so I can catch up with Rachel, but one, she’ll hate that anyway, and two, if I call in sick, I’d better be dying, or Dad will send someone to double-check.

So I get up quietly and dress for work, figuring I’ll need to get takeaway coffee on the way to work because both Anders and Rachel should be asleep.

Should being the operative word, because when I make my way into the living room, they’re both smiling and laughing on the couch.

“There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Rachel taunts.

“Mmm,” I mumble.

Anders laughs.

When I glance at him, the big bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway.

“You didn’t sleep?” I ask.

“My fault,” Rachel says. “Sorry. Your boyfriend is good company.”

Anders and I stare wide-eyed at each other.

“We’re not …” Anders says at the same time I say, “He’s not …”

“Ah. Label problems? Fine. Your roommate is good company. Though, I’m tellin’ ya, you’re putting the gay rights movement back like fifty years. You know, the whole ‘this is my roommate’ shtick.”