Page 3 of By All Accounts
Hunter knew I’d been involved with a married couple, but Smith was the only one who knew how things had ended. Hunter, my usual confessor, had been so freshly involved with Lincoln I didn’t want to distract him from that happiness with my own misery, and Smith had needed someone to talk to, so the whole thing had worked out. In the end, I found my youngest brother to be much more level-headed than I’d always assumed, a quiet kind of middle ground between the rest of us. I was looking forward to seeing him come into his own more, safely extracted from the gentle press of Marshall’s thumb.
Smith again adjusted the sleeves of his too-large hoodie—the same one he’d been wearing the night he showed up at family dinner with a fresh tattoo he’d kept hidden from us—on his way up the stairs to his second floor. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure I was behind him, like there was anywhere for me to go besides wherever he led me. I absolutelywas not going back to my house, not with that color Annette had hand-picked for me smeared across the walls of the only room in my house I truly liked.
Paint store, first thing tomorrow.
Maybe I’d take the room back to white.
No, that was horrible.
“Toothbrush stuff is under the sink,” he said, pointing casually into the dark expanse of the primary bedroom as we passed it.
Smith walked me to the end of the hall, even though I did already know my way, flipping on the lights as we went before doing the same to the guest room. It was annoyingly bright, white walls and that same gorgeous floor, and there was no way I was going to paint my office that color. I’d have to find something else.
Smith leaned against the far wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Are you hungry? How long were you in there for?”
“Somehow long enough and not nearly at the same time,” I answered, unclipping my watch and depositing it on the nightstand. “A few hours on the low end. I honestly don’t know when I got picked up.”
“And you don’t want to talk about what happened?”
“Neil and Annette happened,” I said.
Smith clenched his jaw, understanding that was all he would get from me, and also that it was enough of an answer by itself.
“Okay.” He pushed away from the wall and changed places with me, stopping in the doorway. “There’s food in the fridge; you can have whatever you want. Do you need a phone charger?”
I hadn’t even thought about my phone.
I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, finding it dead.
“No,” I said, setting it down next to my watch. “I don’t.”
“Please eat, Finn.”
“Okay, Marshall,” I countered.
Smith rolled his eyes at me, and I gave him a conciliatory smile instead of an apology or correction. If I was being honest, I’d have to admit I appreciated the concern, but the liquor had left me raw in all the wrong places and I wasn’t sure I could say that to him just yet.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked me next.
A lobotomy.
“Do you work tomorrow?”
He shook his head, mouth twitching into a small frown. “Riggs and I just got back from a trip. I was planning on taking the day off since the shop is closed Mondays. Why?”
“Nothing.” I sat on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress, testing the firmness. “Don’t worry.”
“Why?”
“I was going to see if you would come help me paint my office,” I blurted, inhaling deeply and shaking my head in annoyance at my own lack of self-control.
“Oh, you’ve run through your other brothers and now you finally come asking me for a hand?” he teased. “Of course, I’ll come help you paint your office. I can bring Riggs if you like. More hands make less work or something.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted Riggs there. I hadn’t been in the best of moods the first time I’d met him, and I wasn’t happy with the impression I'd made. I was also certain I’d be nursing the worst hangover of my life in a few hours, which meant I would be far from fun to be around. But I didn’t think Smith would partner himself up with a man who would judge me for any of that. Riggs had nice enough eyes, and if Smith liked him…
“You know what, nev?—”
