The only sound in the office is my fingers flying over the keys. I glance up to find his cool eyes on my face. I pause my typing and lean back in my seat to cross my legs.
“What?” I lift a brow.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” My lips move a degree in a smile.
“What’s up with you and Marlon?” There’s no trace of a smile on his face, and his eyes hold only questions, no humor.
“Rhyson, leave it.” I sigh and lean toward my desk, back to my typing.
“I wasn’t going to bring this up because I didn’t think it would be a problem.” Rhyson frowns and runs a hand over the back of his neck, uncharacteristic discomfort on his face. “But Marlon told me about . . . you know.”
I stop typing to give him my full attention.
“Not yet, I don’t know. He told you what?”
“He told me about you guys hooking up when you were here on spring break that time.” Rhyson pushes the words out like they burn his tongue.
“Oh, did he?” Irritation blisters beneath my skin. “I should go check the restroom. Maybe he wrote ‘for a good time call Bristol’ on the stalls, too.”
“Bris, it’s been a long time. He probably wouldn’t have told me now if it hadn’t been for the song. I had no idea ‘Top of the World’ was about you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I fix my eyes on the screen. “Water under the bridge. Water that never went anywhere anyway.”
“That’s what I thought, but things have been weird lately,” Rhyson says. “And it’s none of my business.”
“Right.” I don’t look away from the sales report in one of my open browsers. “It’s not.”
“Until it affects my business,” Rhyson finishes, his tone stiff. “If things weren’t tense between the two of you, you’d be with Marlon today. We can’t have whatever is going on with you personally affecting business.”
“So what?” My eyes jerk to his face. “Are you here to write me up? Put a warning in my file? Give me a demerit? Whatever you came here to do, do it, say it so I can get back to work.”
“There’s no need to get defensive.”
“There is when you tell me you think I’m not doing my job because of some shit with Grip.”
I open yet another browser. Anything to avoid the curiosity in my brother’s eyes.
“Do you have feelings for him, Bristol?” Rhyson asks softly.
In all these years, he’s never asked me. Not once has Rhyson ever asked if I returned Grip’s feelings. He’s always assumed that when I brushed aside Grip’s advances, his flirtations, there was nothing to it on my end. Any hope I have that I’ll get out of this conversation without telling him something fades when he doesn’t drop it.
“Bris, look at me,” my brother demands.
I finally abandon my laptop, meeting his eyes.
“Do you have feelings for Marlon?”
I still can’t make myself admit it aloud. Even though he isn’t in the room, it’s like as soon as I say the words, they’ll land on my sleeve for Grip to read. But my silence says it all. I’ve never had to deny my feelings to Rhyson, and I find it harder than when I lie to Grip.
“What the hell,?” Rhyson leans back in his seat, resting his head on the back of the chair and staring up at the ceiling. “All these years and you never . . . why?”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”
He sits back up, spearing me with the frustration in his eyes.
“How can you say that?”
“Because I’m not doing a damn thing about it. That’s why.”
“But if you . . .” He pauses, obviously taking great care with the next word that comes out of his mouth, as he should. “Care about Marlon, and he’s made no secret of how he feels about you, then why not?”
“Weren’t you the main one afraid I would destroy him?” I pinch my brows together. “Seems you’d be the last person encouraging a relationship between poor, vulnerable Grip and your sister the man-eater.”
“What?”
“Oh, please, Rhyson.” I steady my voice for the next words. “Just a few weeks ago, I overheard you warning him away from me. Telling him that he should pursue Qwest instead. So, don’t act as if Grip and me would be some match made in heaven. You know we wouldn’t be good together.”
Rhyson is quiet for a few moments, studying the clasped hands in his lap.
“I admit there are risks involved.” Rhyson looks up at me from beneath his dark brows. “I have been concerned that you might hurt him.”
“It never once occurred to you that he might hurt me?” A bitter laugh darkens the air around me. “That maybe he had already hurt me and I wasn’t willing to risk my heart being broken?”
“You mean the stuff with Tessa? It wasn’t his baby, Bris.”
“It could have been.” I shake my head and twirl my chair away from him to face the view through my window. “That wasn’t even the point. He lied to me. He never once mentioned he was in a relationship that whole week we were . . .”
Together. To even think of us as “together” pains me.
“Whatever we were doing that week,” I finish lamely. “If he would cheat on Tessa, he’d cheat on me.”
Rhyson comes to stand in front of me, propping himself against the windowsill.
“You think Marlon would cheat on you?” Rhyson looks at me disbelievingly. “He was a kid!”
“He hasn’t exactly been chaste since.”
“Neither have you,” Rhyson tosses back. “You can’t hold anyone he’s been with against him when you weren’t together, Bris. That’s ridiculous.”
“You say that so easily because you’d never cheat on Kai.”
“Of course I would never cheat on Kai.” He looks offended that I even brought it up. “I couldn’t.”
“Well you’re the exception to the rule. Most men have no trouble cheating.” A laugh sours in my mouth. “Our father certainly doesn’t.”
“What did you say?” Rhyson peers at my face like he’s never seen me before. “Dad cheats on Mom?”
“Oh, God, Rhyson.” I lean back in my seat, part horrified, part relieved that he knows. “Yes. Dad cheats.”
“When?”
“When not?” I meet the confusion in his eyes. “Almost since the beginning.”
“I mean, I figured they didn’t have what you would call a typical marriage.” A frown settles on Rhyson’s face. “But I hadn’t thought about . . .”
He shrugs, his expression clearing.
“She probably cheats, too,” he says. “It isn’t like they have some grand passion.”
“She loves him,” I say softly. “She’s never cheated on him.”
“How do you know all of this and I don’t?”
“Because I’ve been there, Rhyson.” Pent up emotion pushes my voice out louder than I intend. “You left and never looked back. I’m the one who stayed. I saw what happened."
“What did you see?” His eyes never leave my face. Maybe he’s really seeing me for the first time since we were kids.
I hear my father screwing that girl as if I’m standing down in the foyer again.
“I heard him.” I draw a deep breath, releasing it on a shaky exhale. “I went home after spring break but didn’t tell them I was coming. As soon as I walked in the house, I heard them upstairs. Someone having sex. Like loud, so I knew they didn’t think anyone else was in the house.”
I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees and scooping my hair away from my face before going on.
“There was this part of me that was happy.” I shake my head, remembering the goofy grin I wore thinking I’d caught my parents making love. “I never thought they loved each other. I knew they were . . . partners, but I didn’t think of them as having sex. Of enjoying each other.”