Page 4 of Shine For Me

“Do you practice sounding like an asshole, or does it come to you naturally?”

He grins then—a real grin, not the fake bored smile he deigns to grace the cameras with—and I impulsively reach out to hug him. “Missed you, Grey,” I whisper.

He stands there for a second, arms limp at his sides, like I shocked him with my rare display of affection. A moment later, his arms come around me and he squeezes me tight.

“Missed you too, Junie,” he says, his voice husky. Then he clears his throat and when he speaks again, he sounds a lot more like his normal, too-cool-to-be-here self. “You’re not dying or something, are you?”

I roll my eyes as I pull away. “No. Jesus. Is it really that weird for me to hug my twin brother when I haven’t seen him in three months?”

He studies my face, his own expression unreadable, and I feel a pang of something dull and aching deep in my chest.

It didn’t used to be this way between us.

“Have you seen the grandparents yet?” he finally asks, apparently deciding to ignore my question—and my hug—entirely.

I shake my head, looking towards the center of the room where our grandfather is no doubt holding court amongst the throngs of his admirers. “I was hoping to catch Grandma on her own before I went over there.”

“I saw her earlier, talking to Dad and Jack.”

So our oldest brother is here already. If it feels like a long time since I’ve seen my twin, it’s nothing on how long it’s been since I’ve seen Jack. I literally don’t even know the last time we were in the same room. Dad I saw just a few days ago, when we both happened to be dining at the same restaurant. We posed for some pictures with the paparazzi outside, him playing the doting father, before we went in to ignore each other for the rest of our meals. I think he was eating with my step-mother and my half-sister, Chloe, but he didn’t think to bring me over to say hi.

Pretty typical for a JJ Cain interaction.

“What about the cousins?” I ask my twin. “I thought I saw Harlow when I first walked in.”

Grey’s face lights up, the way it only does when he has some really good gossip. “You’re not going to believe this. Gabe and Harlow are here, but that’s not the interesting bit of Cain cousin news.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Sebastianshowed up.”

My mouth drops open and I immediately turn in the direction of our grandfather, trying to see through the crowd. “Noway.”

He nods eagerly. “I swear to God. Standing right next to Grandpa and everything.”

“Holy shit.” I stand on my tiptoes, surprise and excitement pulsing through me. “What about his siblings? Ophelia?” The excitement ramps up a notch at the idea of seeing my favorite cousin. “Cassius?”

“Nope. Just Bash.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, both at a loss for words. Sebastian is here? How is that possible?

My Uncle Jon is the youngest child of the great Jimmy Cain, legendary Hollywood producer. Unlike his older siblings, Jon decided to strike out on his own. Oh, he still stayed in the family business—a Cain not working in Hollywood is totally unheard of—but he refused to work under my grandfather’s studio. There was always tension between the two of them, my grandfather taking his son’s desire for independence as a personal attack.

That tension turned into a seemingly insurmountable rift when Uncle Jon started his own production company, and stopped using the name Cain professionally. That slap in the face was a step too far for my grandpa and the two of them haven’t spoken inyears. Which means my cousins—Cass, Ophelia, and Sebastian—have been cut off, too.

“Do you think Uncle Jon knows Bash is here?”

Grey shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows? But he’ll find out soon enough. I bet the paparazzi went crazy when Bash showed up.”

“Wow.” It’s really the only thing I can think to say. This is crazy. Huge.

Grey crosses his arms. “You know what this means, right? Grandpa is going to be even more insufferable than usual.”

I groan, knowing he’s right. Jimmy will consider this a huge win. And there are few things I hate more than my grandfather after a win.

“Should we get this over with?” he asks, and I already feel tired. “Go over and wish him a happy birthday, kiss the ring, all that shit?”

“I guess so.”

The crowd around our grandfather is thick, but his well-wishers part for us. When Jimmy sees us, his face lights up. “James and Juniper,” he calls out in that booming voice that commands every room he’s ever walked into.

My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists. It’s all an act. The bright smile, the jovial voice. Calling us James and Juniper—which no one in the family does. They all know I hate the name Juniper and Grey hasn’t been called by his first name by anyone who actually knows him a single day in his life. He may have gotten the name James from our grandfather and father, but our mother refused to call him that, insisting everyone use his middle name instead.