Page 20 of Quiet Obsession
Fuck. My head’s a beehive, anger and regret battling it out until the only thing I can think of is getting drunk and dislocating a few jaws so I don’t have to feel this raw.
Hyde sits down with a grunt, tugging at her ponytail to get a reaction, but she doesn’t look away from Noah’s deft fingers setting the board.
“Boy...”Dash huffs out a laugh, slamming the fridge closed. “People sure think grief makes you hungry, don’tthey? How many casseroles are in there?”
“Miriam took it upon herself to feed us this week,” I explain, my pulse spiking again when Millie’s grip tightens on her pawn.
What the fuck is happening?
“And you decided to starve?” He plucks four crystal glasses from the cabinet. “You didn’t touch them.”
“The smell alone made us lose our appetite,” Hyde pipes in. “But by all means, help yourself.”
“No, Noah’s right. I ate not long ago.” He points a finger at me. “Now. I’ve been dreaming about your father’s liquor stash since he kicked it, Creed.”
“Help yourself. You know where it is.”
“How about you ask how he’s doing before you start draining his inheritance?” Noah prompts, sliding his bishop across the board.
Millie’s lips twitch as she reaches for her knight. It’s not a smile, not even close, but it’s a reaction I catalogue anyway. Hyde watches the chess match, eyes jumping between his sister and Noah, a muscle feathering his jaw.
That’s an obvious tell.
He doesn’t like their effortless, silent connection. Ever since she stopped talking, he’s been overprotective to his core. A bit fucking late for that, if you ask me, but better late than never.
“What’s the point? I know the answer,” Dash calls out, the sound of his boots swallowed by the area rug in my living room. “You selfish asshole! I get why you startedcelebrating right away, but you could’ve called me! Half the good liquor’s gone!”
Millie peers up at me, a faint eleven between her brows.
I can’t blame her.Celebratingisn’t something people do when their parent dies. She never met Jeremiah, though. And thank fuck for that or I would’ve had to kill him myself after all.
“I saved you a bottle of the finest, Dash. Top shelf.”
Hyde leans closer to his sister, gently elbowing her side. “What did you do when I was gone, sis?”
She looks at him, then at me, lips pressing into a line.
It’s definitelyme. She’s not talking because ofme.
I don’t look away from her, staring holes in her face as if I don’t blink, then she might say a few words.
“Dash has talked her ear off,” Noah supplies, as he moves his king to check hers. “He escorts her to every meal, then leaves her with me while he goes hunting.”
“You play for hours!” Dash complains, coming back with the bottle I set aside for him. “And you barely talk. Sue me for preferring to get laid over watching you ponder every move for fucking ever.”
Exaggeration is his superpower. Along with his ability to charm the panties off virtually any girl. He fucks a minimum of three different girls a week. While he enjoys making light of it, claiming he’s getting the most out of college before starting his mundane life, I see it for what it really is.
A coping mechanism.
A way to distract himself from his own mind, his past, thememories that never fade. His whole personality is a smoke screen. The jokes, the silliness, the grins... they’re a mask.
Everyone copes differently. Hyde and Noah are both composed. Both thrive on cold assessment and logic. Though Hyde prefers applying his skills to people. He saves them. Feeds them. Puts them back together piece by piece.
Noah controls the environment. Time, place, schedule. He moves like clockwork, disciplined and strategic.
Dash and I are the other end of the spectrum. We’re self-destructive in different ways. He’s loud. Strips his life and interactions of meaning, manufactures chaos, and when he drinks—or rather, when he drinks too much—things take aHangover-worthy turn.
When I’m sober, I’m quiet. I don’t like theatrics, but if I start drinking, I have no intake control after the third or fourth beer, and once I’m past a certain threshold of alcohol level in my system, my brand of chaos is bloody.
