Page 86 of A Cold Hard Truth

“You okay?” Remington asked.

He sighed. “Yeah. I mean, no. My brother is in town, apparently. He’s calling me home.”

“Is he?” Remington didn’t sound amused. “Don’t you have work?”

“You know my attendance at the office isn’t a requirement. I’m entirely ornamental.”

“Not entirely.”

“You know what I mean,” he said.

“How long is your brother here for?”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian stood, the damp towel falling loose and pooling at his feet. He bent over and grabbed his clothes, getting himself dressed while they talked. “I don’t even know why he’s here. He can annoy me perfectly fine from Mallardsville.”

“It must be important.”

“Rhys has an inflated sense of his value,” Sebastian said.

“Don’t forget that when he upsets you,” Remington suggested. “I haven’t met him, but it seems to me like it’s very easy for him to throw you off course. Remind yourself of his dramatics when he employs them.”

“If only it were that easy.” Sebastian zipped up his pants, then tossed the wet towel in the hamper. He shuffled into the living room, dreading the prospect of going home and leaving the safety of Remington’s apartment.

But he had an obligation.

A heavy sense of dread settled over him as he gathered his keys and wallet from Remington’s coffee table. Sebastian couldn’t fight the feeling that this was going to be the last time he saw the inside of Remington’s apartment. And while he knew that was improbable, he wasn’t entirely convinced. Something about the way Rhys had come for him while he’d been in the safety of Remington’s space felt wrong to him.

The past few weeks, he’d been able to play at the idea of pretending to be someone else. Not a completely different person, but at least a better version of himself. When he was with Remington, it was okay to be a little off balance, a little messed up. And he’d been feeling comfortable in the kind of support he received from Remington when his brother called. Rhys’s words had broken into the sanctity of his safe place and tarnished it.

He hated it.

Sebastian flipped the lock on the doorknob and let himself out, giving the apartment one last look before closing the door. He hurried down to his car, then drove home in silence, fighting the growing sense of discomfort that settled over him with every mile that went past.

When he got home, he found Rhys leaning against his front door, arms crossed casually over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle. He wore a slim cut and well-tailored slacks, a dress shirt, no jacket, and an expression that reeked of boredom.

“Took you long enough,” Rhys said, pushing off the wall.

“Good to see you, too.” Sebastian brushed past him, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

“Wet hair.” Rhys plucked at Sebastian’s blond strands as he walked past, giving a tug before letting go. “Some friend.”

“What brings you to town, Rhys?”

Rhys closed the door behind him, surveying Sebastian’s apartment with a heavily judgmental eye.

“Do you have coffee?” Rhys asked.

“Not yet.”

Rhys gestured toward the kitchen. “Can you?”

“You’re horrible,” Sebastian muttered, stalking into his kitchen and wishing Remington hadn’t given him a reprieve on the schedule. Maybe then he could have used an excuse to get away from Rhys. But he also suspected his brother would see right through it.

“I know,” Rhys agreed, following him into the kitchen. “That’s not news. Anyway, we need to talk.”

“That’s what phones are for. Email. Texts.” He shoved a coffee pod into his machine and closed it, stabbing the start button. “Telegraphs. Carrier pigeons.”

“Point taken, brother.” Rhys leaned against the counter and assumed the same casually unaffected pose he’d been in when Sebastian had gotten home. “But no, this…this needs to be discussed in person and I figured coming down would be easier than convincing you to come back home.”