One thing I cling to mentally from before Dad made me his was you never leave messes. Ever. Messes equal terror. Dark memories enter my brain, but I quickly shut the door on them as I shut the door to my room. I’m not in the mood to take a trip down memory lane, rehashing all the horrible shit I endured before the age of ten.
Fuck. That.
Tonight we’re having tacos, and that’s something to look forward to.
Ginger scampers around the corner at the sound of my door closing. She yaps the whole way toward me and then bounces on her hind legs, begging to be carried. Since her sister isn’t around, I’m assuming Nutmeg conned Dad or Ryan into carrying her around like a baby.
“Come here, brat,” I grumble, scooping up the spoiled furball.
I nuzzle my face against her soft fur, stroking her as I make it toward the smell of seasoned meat and male voices. I’m just entering the kitchen when I see him.
Canyon Voss.
In my fucking house.
I freeze, shocked to see him here. Ryan complains to Dad all the time when he thinks I’m not listening that Canyon hates him now. I’ve even heard the poor guy cry over it. He’s begged many times for his son to visit, but Canyon always ignores his requests.
Ever since that night.
I remember my eyes dragging over Canyon’s wet, muscular chest as he casually leaned back in his seat on the boat, dark hair messy and hanging in his eyes. A genuine smile curved his full lips up as he watched Dad and Ryan give each other shit. I was fixated on the happy trail on his lower abs and the way it disappeared under the loose band of his swim trunks. When Ryan proposed to Dad, I was still drooling over what someone like Canyon Voss would feel like pinning me beneath him. All of my fantasies came grinding to a halt at that moment as I realized what was happening. Before anyone could say anything, Canyon swung at his dad.
We haven’t had to deal with Canyon and his dad together since.
Why now?
Canyon, with my traitorous other dog in his muscular arms, smirks my way. Evil intent glimmers in blue eyes that resemble Lake Whippoorwill on a sunny summer day. Ryan stands behind him, a hopeful grin on a face that’s just an older version of Canyon’s.
I want to demand to know what he’s doing here, but I won’t fuck things up for Dad. Not this close to graduation. I can’t risk it.
“Hey,” I grunt out. “Surprised seeing you here.”
Canyon smirks. “No surprise, really, seeing as we’ll be brothers soon.”
Fucking asshole.
That shit had him seeing red earlier today. Now? Now he’s bullshitting through his teeth.
Why?
What is this asshole up to?
“Right.” I dart my gaze to my dad. His glasses are perched on his nose, and his hair is styled to perfection. He wears a grin that looks much like Ryan’s. I want to shake them both and make them realize Canyon’s just playing them. “Need help?”
I set my dog down to wash up in the sink. Dad points me to the cutting board where he’d been cutting up lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. I take on the task gladly, just to give myself a second to regroup. Conversation between Ryan and Dad is a little stiff. I can tell they’re both nervous about having Canyon here but still hopeful. This bastard better not do anything to rock the boat.
Ryan chatters on about work—his favorite thing to talk about—while Dad throws in his two cents every now and again. They make their way into the dining room to set the table. Canyon remains quiet after they leave. He finally sets Nutmeg down and walks over to the sink to wash his hands. We’re just two feet apart, and I can nearly feel the heat of his body and smell his soapy scent. I want to shove him away from me, but I don’t.
“Excuse me,” he rumbles, pressing into me from behind to reach for a paper towel.
I know he’s just doing it to piss me off, but having his solid body against my back and his deep voice vibrating through me, I nearly take off my thumb with the knife. With lightning-quick reflexes, his hand captures my wrist as the blade scrapes across my flesh.
“Careful, bro.” The malice in his tone makes me shiver. “Wouldn’t want you to lose violin too.”
I tense at his warning. Before I can retaliate, he slides a hand around my throat, his hips painfully pinning me against the counter. His breath is hot against my ear as he leans in close.
“I think we’re going to enjoy being brothers,” he taunts, his voice low and cruel. “We’ll spend every waking moment together. It’s going to be a blast, man.”
“Did you really come here just to fuck with me?” I accuse, venom dripping from my words. “Because, if so, it’s stupid. I won’t roll over and play dead for you. I bite back, Voss.”