Anti-Stepbrother(94)
His hand reached for mine, and a warm smile spread over his face. “I’m Colton.”
Colton was amazing.
He laughed. He teased. He interrogated me with a wink and wiggling eyebrows. He gave Marcus shit—extra points for that one—and he worshiped Caden. And he was who he was.
We stopped at an outdoor restaurant, and when he sat down, his shirt rode up, exposing more than a normal share of scars. He reached for his sleeve, like he was going to pull it back down, but saw my gaze.
He let it go and instead laid his arm out over the table and turned it over so I could see it better. He pointed to a scar that ran the entire length of his arm. “This is the one people think is the SA.”
“SA?”
“Suicide attempt.”
He said it casually, and a shiver wound down my spine, but I shoved that away. If he could handle it, I’d be damned if I’d be the one who squirmed.
“It wasn’t that?”
“Nah.” He pulled his sleeve down now and propped his elbows on the table. Then he nodded toward the line. “You guys go order. Summer and I can talk like good little boys and girls.”
Caden stood, squeezing my hand once under the table, and headed off without a word. Marcus remained behind, his hesitation obvious.
“Go, douch—” Colton started.
I cut in, “I’m going to start rhyming, Marcus.”
He groaned, but nodded. Rapping his knuckles on the table, he stood and pointed at me. “Don’t start. I’m going to be dreaming that shit.”
I winked at him as he went around the table. “You calling me a nightmare?”
I heard his laugh before he was past two more tables and out of earshot.
Colton gazed at his twin with his head tilted to the side. A soft smile accompanied his soft words, “He likes you.”
“I’m a rhyming genie. I can work some magic.”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes still thoughtful and eerily somber. “Marcus respects you. I can tell. That’s impressive. I’ve never seen it before.”
I scoffed. “Oh, come on. I’m sure he respects lots of things.”
“No—”
“Hooters. Porn. Wet T-shirt contests.”
Colton laughed.
“Christmas presents. Shoes. Jock itch. A future dog he might have. Morning sex.” I waved at him. “I could keep going all day.”
“I see it.”
“See what?”
“Why they both like you so much.”
He’d been through hell, and was still there, trying to get back, yet he was focused on me, on his brothers.
I felt a pang in my chest. “He respects you too, you know.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“He doe—”
“He fears me.” Colton’s eyes were clear and focused. He meant what he said, and he was okay with it. There was no sorrow, just a concise analysis. “I make him nervous because it could’ve been him. That makes him feel guilty for not becoming what Caden has become. It’s easier to deny something than accept it.”
I…any words I might’ve formed died in my throat. I had nothing. I glanced down at my lap before looking at him once again. My eyes had a traitorous mist over the top of them.
“Marcus isn’t that bad,” I said.
“You’re right. He’s not. Caden was worse.”
“What do you mean?”
His smile faded. “Nothing. I think that’s for Caden to say. And look at me, I’m talking shit about my brothers when they were nice enough to pick me up, take me to get some food, and introduce me to a pretty girl.” He tried to bolster his smile so it was less haunting. He failed. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve just met you, but my smooth social skills aren’t what they once were. I tend to rush things now. My therapist keeps telling me to slow shit down.”
“You don’t have to slow anything down with me.”
“Still.” He pointed to my face. “I can tell I’m scaring you. That wasn’t my intent. I’m sorry for that.”
“You didn’t.”
“It’s okay.”
“You didn’t.” I leaned forward and whispered since Caden and Marcus were coming back with our food. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not the smooth social skiller you were either.”
“Smooth social skiller.” He bent his head toward the table, his shoulders jerking in silent laughter. “You’re right. We can’t all be smooth criminals, you know.”
I shook my head, dead serious. “Fuck no.”
Caden and Marcus were sitting down.
I added, “But it’s something to aspire to.”
Colton barked out an abrupt laugh. “Yes. Yes, it is, I guess.” His laughter continued until he had tears in his eyes, but they were the good tears. The healing kind. The kind you wanted to see because they brought relief. They brought out the side that was good, like the sun appearing for the first time in months.