Savage Little Lies (Court Legacy 2)

The first time, I hadn’t been aware of the reasons. Once I was, I hadn’t liked it, but I’d gotten it. In the end, it’d all been a big misunderstanding. Actually, quite like this, but this I couldn’t get or accept. I wasn’t a liar. I hadn’t betrayed him.

That didn’t matter.

He’d made up his mind, and that had made up everyone else’s mind.

I braided my hair with wandering thoughts, trying not to feel anything, but that was hard. He’d once again shut me out, but this time was different. This time I was invested. I cared about the asshole and fuck us both.

Fuck me.

I wished I hated him. I wished I didn’t care for him, Bow, or anyone else. That would make all this easier. I could be alone. I got being alone. My brother and I were our own island, and I thrived on how well we always adjusted.

It was different when you actually had something, though. At least the start of something. I didn’t know what that was for Dorian and me, but it’d been something.

You need to get your shit together.

With a stiff breath, I moved on that morning. I still had a ship to fucking run, and my br

other was sick. He hadn’t been any different last night before he’d gone to bed. Though he had gotten some homework done. It hadn’t been much since he complained about drowsiness, but he’d gotten a little bit done, and I’d worked with him.

Of course, his smart ass hadn’t needed me. He was the whiz, but he’d entertained me being there and working alongside him on my own work. In all honestly, I would have preferred working on a series I’d started in my art studio downstairs. I hadn’t gotten terribly far with it, but with all the downtime I’d had since coming here, that was where my mind had been at since Bru had been busy himself with football after school.

He obviously wasn’t doing that now, and I knocked on his door this morning. “Bru?”

His door was kind of open, so I pushed it the rest of the way. My brother turned over, and I thought he might be still sleeping, but I spotted him texting on his cell phone.

He eyed over his shoulder, some actual color in his face. “Sup?”

Well, that seemed good. He hadn’t been talking so much since he’d been tired and achy.

Lounging against the door, I eyed the room before smirking. “Really milking this thing for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

His room was filled with video games and takeout cartons. Clearly, my brother’s weird bug hadn’t dulled his appetite.

And he seemed to be better now, sitting up. It took him a second to get himself stable, and clearly, some weakness continued to bother him. The fact that he’d been able to rise in itself was good, though. He had the energy enough to do it.

“Whatev,” he said, messing with his phone a sec before resting his head back on the wall. He closed his eyes. “Anyway, give me a fucking break. I’m like dying or some shit.”

He wasn’t dying, my eyes rolling back into my head. I picked up a pizza box, stacking it on another. “Dying people don’t eat pizza.”

“Says who?” He chuckled, but he must have done it too hard because he stopped. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

“What does?”

“How about everything?” His eyes still closed, he folded his arms. “This fucking sucks. Why couldn’t you get it?”

“Nice,” I said, and after cleaning up some of his stuff, I sat on his bed. “And you obviously aren’t contagious; otherwise, I would have gotten it.”

Dr. Richardson didn’t think this was something my brother could pass to anyone. Just a bug, like he said. Leaning forward, I felt my brother’s forehead, and though he was still warm, he wasn’t burning up like that first day.

“You seem to be coming around, though. Sitting up? I’m assuming you’ve been taking your medicine.” The doctor had left some stuff for him.

My brother shrugged. “When I remember. I think I missed the last dose or two. I get all foggy, and since I’ve been sleeping, I just forget.”

Well, he couldn’t be doing that. Not if he did want to get better.

I’d scold him, but since I didn’t know what he was going through, I decided to be helpful by getting his meds together. The doctor hadn’t left a ton, but they had different directions on the bottles. I decided to get them ready on his nightstand, and while I did, he looked at his phone again.

“Any word from the guys?” he asked me, thumbing the screen. “I’ve been texting the hell out of them, asking them if everything is all right and stuff. I haven’t heard anything since before the video went viral. Ares isn’t good about texting, but Thatcher and Wells always do. I didn’t want to bother Dorian. I figured all that stuff with his family had him busy.”