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“He’s taking something,” Dom said, lip curling.

The fire in my chest blazed, and it was my turn to grab his shirt and yank him toward me. “Alright, I let that little ‘slut’ comment pass earlier without a fucking word because I can let Elliot handle himself. But don’t think that when it’s the two of us, you’re going to stand there and talk about your fucking friend like he’s some sex toy I’m using. You got me? I don’t give a shit if it does get me booted out of this place. I beat you within an inch of your fucking life, understood?”

Dom hadn’t moved the entire time I’d spoken, his hands at his side as he watched me carefully. After a few seconds, he cracked a smile. “Now, isn’t that interesting?”

“Not really,” I grunted, pushing him away from me.

“Defending his honor.”

“He can defend himself.”

“He’s not here.”

“Exactly. I’m not listening to that shit, not when he’s not here to deal with it himself.”

Dom smoothed the front of his shirt, clicking his tongue. “Who the fuck thought that Reno fucking Taylor would be the one who treats Elliot like an adult.”

“He is an adult. A childish, impulsive idiot, but an adult,” I grunted, now feeling like I had somehow walked into a trap. “So what the fuck do you want to talk to me about?”

“You already covered most of what I wanted to talk to you specifically about,” he said with a shrug. “You didn’t swing at me when you had the chance, even though I was practically picking a fight. But the minute I said shit about him, you were ready to throw down.”

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably. “What was the point?”

“The point was to make sure you weren’t a threat to him, at least not an immediate one.”

“An immediate one?”

“And that you weren’t using him.”

“It’s probably better to say we’re using each other.”

Dom wrinkled his nose. “Look, I heard enough when I came looking for the two of you. I don’t need you to start giving me details or some shit.”

Maybe it made me a petty person or some of Elliot’s mischievousness was rubbing off on me, but I enjoyed his discomfort for a moment. It seemed a fair trade, considering how little I had been enjoying our conversation so far. I was willing to accept it because Dom did have a strangely fraternal bond with Elliot, and from personal experience, big brothers were usually fiercely protective of their younger siblings. Or at least most of the ones I’d met were, and it didn’t matter if it was a younger brother or sister.

“So, question for you,” he began, looking back toward the buildings behind him as a clamor of laughter rose into the air. “What was that comment you made earlier?”

“Which one?”

“The big brother thing. Do you really see me that way with him?”

I hesitated, unsure this was the right moment to bring up how Elliot thought about Dom. It was probably better for them to have that conversation, but they didn’t strike me as the sharing type. I’d seen guys act like this before with their friendship, and they could be stubbornly reluctant to share too much out of an unspoken fear of driving their friend away.

“What?” Dom asked, his brow furrowing again. “What’s wrong?”

Jesus Christ, his concern was so obvious. It was so fucking sweet it was going to rot the hell out of my teeth if I let him keep going. I didn’t think Dom was even aware of what he was doing or how he was reacting. It just came naturally to him. I wondered if he had younger siblings of his own or if this was just some special relationship he had with Elliot. It could be either. I was a clear example of how Elliot managed to have some sort of positive effect on other people, even if it came with a lot of kicking and screaming on my part.

“He’ll probably kill me for saying this, but,” I began with a shrug, “he loves you.”

“I…what?” he demanded, his eyes bulging out of his head comically and his dark skin losing a shade or two.

“What?” I asked, startled by his reaction until I realized. “No! Not like in love with you, Jesus fucking Christ, and you called him dramatic.”

“Then what the hell do you mean?” he asked, eyes retracting into his head so he didn’t look like a cartoon character anymore.

“I mean like a friend. Like a brother,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s never said it, but it’s obvious. And honestly? You act like a big brother to him a lot. Or at least how a big brother is supposed to act anyway.”

He cast a shrewd look my way. “Got a couple of older brothers that aren’t?”