Page 4 of Silver Sweet

He isn’t calling her yet. “I haven’t seen Gertrude in months.”

“Whatever. Gemma.” We stare each other down, and I can feel Eliot saying,I would rather be here for you.So I assure, “I have this handled tonight, dude.” My chest tightens. “I am desperate, but I’m not without my own willpower. Still intact.”Still making it impossible to quit.

He points his phone at me again. “You will succeed.” He says it like a law he’s passed. Cannot be overruled.

I nod. “Just kill me if I fail.”

“Si tu meurs, je meurs,” he says seriously.If you die, I die.

A smile edges against my mouth. “Nous sèmerions le chaos en enfer ensemble.”We’d wreak havoc in hell together.

Eliot grins. “L’enfer n’est pas prêt pour nous.”Hell isn’t ready for us.

Causing chaos with my older brother is one of life’s greatest joys. I think I’d go berserk within the mundane.

As soon as I reach my bedroom in the dark hall, I brake to a complete stop. Soft, feminine moans trickle out, and a black tie is hooked on the doorknob.

Fuck, I silently mouth the word and scrape a hand through my hair. Grimacing.

My little brother is fucking his girlfriend. Awesome.Awesome.The woes of sharing a bedroom.

I volunteered to room with Ben when he moved in recently. Eliot and I were already living here with our older brothers, Charlie and Beckett, so the addition of our youngest brother meant someone would need to bunk up. It’s only a four-bedroom apartment.

“You knew this would happen,” I mutter to myself, trekking to the living room.

My bedroom is now a biohazard. Last thing I want is to catchanyof my brothers horizontal or being ridden—no, you know what, I’m not going there.

Tonight is already fucked enough. I don’t need a mental image of Ben with Harriet Fisher—this short, punk-rock blonde nuisance.She’s one of the banes of my existence.

But she’s fine.

She’s great (for him).

I’m not at all aggravated that Ben couldn’t have fallen in love with, I don’t know,anyoneelse.

I stifle my cringe as quickly as possible. Like Eliot might pop around the corner and catch me. He keeps telling me, “I’ll be Ben’s roommate. We can always switch. It’s not too late, brother.”

No.

No.

I’m thebest thingfor Ben right now. I want to be a good influence on my nineteen-year-old brother. To be there for him when he’s been actively pushing all of us away for…years.

It’s January 4, and I made a New Year’s resolution (the first I’ve ever made) to bethe bestbrother I can be to Ben this year. If he decides Eliot is a better fit as a roommate, then what does that even say about me? I’m a shit sibling?

I can’t have that branded on my soul. I would actually rather die.

So I take my laptop, my headphones, and my issues to the couch. Camping out in the living room with a million-dollar, sparkling nighttime view of New York, and I’m only glued to this Blaine Thomas ad.

I’m considering reaching out.

I start typing a response when the front door swings open.

“Sitting alone in the dark?” I hear the flat, bitter tone of my oldest, wisest, and crankiest brother. I glance up at Charlie,seeing his white button-down half untucked from his khaki slacks like he was mauled in the elevator. Chances are, he just started pulling at his clothes in impatience to hop in the shower.

His golden-brown hair, the same color as mine, is so unruly.

“Tugging at your hair?” I quip back, then focus on my laptop. “Something you always do, Charlie Keating.”