Page 36 of Dreadful

“Did Bellamy tell you what really happened last night?”

He lowers his phone to his thigh and looks at me. “She was with Cruz last night. You forgetting shit, brother?”

I huff out my annoyance. “I’d forgotten how fucking loud you move through the house.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit. I’m a fucking church mouse.”

Laughter moves through my chest without quite reaching my face. My brother has never been quiet about anything in his entire life. “Did you forget Cruz’s bedroom shares a wall with mine?”

I glance over at my brother as I turn the wheel. His grin is all teeth, a flash of knowing amusement that hits me like a sucker punch.

“What?” I snap, eyes back on the road.

“You peeping on us now, brother?” Gage laughs. “I wouldn’t have pinned you as a voyeur.”

Heat prickles up the back of my neck. My grip shifts on the wheel, and I snap, “I’m not a fucking voyeur.”

He snaps his fingers. “Auditory voyeurism then.”

My jaw aches with tension. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous.”

His amusement hangs between us, thick as smoke. “Nah, man, you’re the one bein’ ridiculous. Just say it. You want her.”

A cold jolt goes through me. My hands tighten on the wheel. “No.”

“No you don’t want her? Or no you won’t admit it?” Gage asks around laughter. “Because you’re not as good of an actor as you think you are, man.”

The side of my mouth curls up into a sneer without my permission. “I’d rather throw myself into the ocean.”

“Fuck, man.” Gage shakes his head, disappointment carved into his expression. “Like what the fuck did she ever even do to you? Why do you hate her?”

My thoughts crash into each other—useless, slippery things I can’t grab hold of. I throw myself behind the one constant. “I don’t hate her. I already know she's gonna be the worst thing to happen to this family.”

Gage lets out a sharp laugh, more disbelief than humor. He drags his palm down his face and leaves it over his mouth for a second before dropping it. “I love you, brother, but what the fuck is wrong with you? When did you become so goddamn bitter that someone else’s happiness started looking like a threat?”

Something bitter inside me grows sharp. “We'll see how happy you are when she chooses someone else instead of you.” I shake my head, the vision playing out behind my eyes. “And then you’ll have to sit and watch her with him, knowing that you weren’t good enough.”

Somewhere underneath the anger there is something older and quieter, a hollow place that has been there so long I’ve stopped noticing it except in moments like this one, when someone else’s certainty makes it echo.

Gage goes quiet in a way that isn’t agreement. When I glance over, his jaw is set and his eyes are somewhere past the windshield.

“Nah, you've got it all wrong,” he says, quieter than before. “It's not like that—she's not like that. I don’t expect you to understand this feeling.”

His dismissal pricks at the scab of long-buried emotions.

Laughter scrapes up my throat and a dark haze crowds the edges of my vision. “Goddammit, Gage. She’s fucking around with you and two of your fucking brothers. In the same motherfucking house.” I exhale through my nose, slow and deliberate. “You keeping a fucking schedule, or is it first come, first served?”

The car jolts violently as Gage wrenches the steering wheel hard to the right. Tires scream against asphalt, throwing us both forward against our seatbelts before my SUV is on the shoulder. He pulls the emergency brake and the car shudders to a stop.

Before I can even draw breath, Gage’s fist is knotted in my shirt, hauling me across the center console until his breath hits my face.

“Last fucking warning,” he grinds out, each word a hammer strike. “As your brother—and only because I fucking love you—keep her name out of your mouth. Or I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you say for six weeks.”

A cold laugh escapes me. “You doing death threats now? Fuck, you’ve been spending too much time with Rafe.”

“I’m not playing, Bishop. Enough.”

I break his grip, shoving back against the console. The fabric of my shirt falls back into place as I smooth it down with a dark chuckle. “This family wouldn’t last a week without me in everyone’s business.”