Chapter 5: The Brother I Thought I Knew

From high school to college, I lost track of how many love letters I delivered for him. Exasperation mixed with old affection.

Girls were always slipping notes into his locker, tucking cards in his backpack. I was his unofficial mail carrier, and I loved every second of it. Pride bubbled up.

But he never looked at any of them. It baffled me.

He tossed them in the trash without a second glance. I pretended not to care, but it hurt more than I'd ever admit. The sting lingered.

To spare those girls heartbreak, I started a rumor at school that my brother was gay.

I thought I was protecting them, saving them from disappointment. I never realized I was just making things worse. Regret gnawed at me.

When he found out, he wasn't even mad. He patted my head and told me I'd done a good job. Relief flooded me.

He ruffled my hair, laughing. "Good thinking, Autumn. Saves me a lot of trouble." I felt a weird sense of pride.

Over time, since my brother never got close to women, I convinced myself he really was gay. Resignation settled in.

I kept telling myself it was true, even when I started to wonder if there was more to it. Doubt crept in at the edges.

After graduation, Sebastian moved out of the old house and got his own place. Loneliness nipped at me.

He rented an apartment downtown, all glass and steel. I visited sometimes, bringing him leftovers from home. Nostalgia flickered.

One time, when I brought him Mom's barbecue ribs, I stumbled into his bedroom and found the walls covered in my photos. Shock froze me in place.

There were pictures everywhere—on the walls, the desk, even the ceiling. I stared, horrified, unable to process it.

He was there, face flushed, caught in the act. Embarrassment and confusion tangled in the air.

He turned, eyes wide and panicked. The air crackled with something I couldn't name. Fear flickered in my chest.

The Tupperware slipped from my hand and crashed to the floor. He rushed to explain, but I was already backing away, heart pounding. Panic made my vision swim.

He stammered, reaching for me, but I jerked back, disgust and fear warring inside me.

But I slapped him. Anger exploded in my chest.

The sound rang out in the small room. My palm stung, but I didn't care. Satisfaction thrummed through me.

"Don't touch me. You're disgusting." Anger spat from my lips.

The words were venom, meant to wound. I wanted him to feel as broken as I did. Raw pain buzzed beneath my skin.

"Sebastian, you really make me sick." Fury burned as I spoke.

I hurled the words at him, tears burning my eyes. He flinched but didn't argue. A small, mean victory.

After that day, I avoided him, refused to see him. Resolve hardened inside me.

I blocked his number, ignored his texts. I built walls around myself, convinced I was safer that way. Loneliness became my shadow.

If Lucas hadn't sent me to him, I probably would have ignored Sebastian for the rest of my life. Regret gnawed at me.

I would have acted like he didn't exist, buried all the memories deep. But fate had other ideas. I hated that.

In a private room at the bar, Lucas sat in the center. Resentment bubbled up.

The lights were low, the air thick with smoke and laughter. Lucas looked right at home, surrounded by people who worshipped him. Bitterness twisted in my gut.

A girl giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What's wrong?" Jealousy flared, sharp and sudden.

She looked a little like me—same dark hair, same heart-shaped face—but her eyes were empty, all surface, no soul. I felt a pang of bitterness.

She looked a little like me, but only on the surface. Lucas's eyes flickered with a faint smile. I wanted to slap it away.

He stroked her cheek, pretending to care. Did she actually buy it? Cynicism curdled in my chest.

"Nothing, let's keep playing." His voice grated on my nerves.