Page 26 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

EASTON

Easton

Do you even miss me? You send me those stupid drawings, so I know you think of me. Does being away from me not affect you at all?

PRESENT

“ E aston,” someone says urgently, pulling me out of the memories I’ve tried so hard to forget.

The good times. The easy times. The fun times.

Fuck, we had so much fun. That first night Adam and I spent together was just the beginning.

I became obsessed with him after that, and he became…

mine. I’d touch him, kiss him, and fuck him every chance I got, and he’d let me because he was just as hungry for me as I was for him.

I used to leave marks on his wrists, his hips, his ass, and he’d wear them proudly beneath his clothes, smiling sneakily.

He loved it. I thought he loved me . Until one day he didn’t anymore.

Or so I thought up until last night.

“Easton.” My older stepbrother’s persistent voice grates on my nerves as he gets right in my face, his hands on my shoulders. “What happened?” His eyes are wide with panic. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s fine. He’s at my house,” I mutter, pushing him off me.

Axel blinks at me. “He’s fine?”

I nod. He shakes his head at me in confusion.

Standing outside the front door of his apartment in London, I stare at him, only just realizing he’s not wearing a shirt.

He’s wearing black sweats and nothing on his feet, his dark hair sticking up in all directions the same way Adam’s does in the mornings.

I must have woken him up. I don’t even remember knocking on the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Looking for you.”

He widens his eyes at me like I’m insane for flying all this way to find him.

I cock my head. “I would have called, but you don’t answer your phone.”

His eyes close briefly, his jaw ticking, his shoulders rolling as if he’s gearing up for a fight.

I’m not going to fight him. I mean, I had every intention of beating his ass when I got on that plane last night, but somewhere along the way, I lost all the fight I had left in me.

Axel eyes me warily as if he’s expecting me to pounce the minute he lets his guard down.

I laugh under my breath. “You can relax, pretty boy. I’m not gonna ruin that face you love so much.” Not today, at least.

He frowns. “Then what do you want?”

Shrugging, I walk past him and let myself into his fancy apartment in Central London. “Nice place,” I say, looking around the large open-plan space.

It’s darker than I imagined. Dark wood floors, black countertops, black cabinets, black light fixtures, black fireplace, black couch, black window frames. So much black. The view through the large windows is sweet though. I bet Adam liked the London Eye view from here.

“Easton.”

“Is black your favorite color or something?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets, my eyes on the city below us. “I expected more from you. Purple. Or turquoise, maybe.”

“The place came fully furnished,” Axel says behind me. “None of this is mine.”

“You’ve been here over three years and you haven’t added one piece of decor?”

“Interior decor isn’t really my thing.”

“What about Adam?”

He shakes his head. My heart clenches in my chest.

“Not even a picture?” I ask.

“In his bedroom, sure. He had those picture frames he’s had forever, but not out here.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Why are we talking about this?”

Turning around, I say, “Answer the question.”

He lowers his gaze and runs his hand over the back of his neck. “I guess he didn’t care enough. He didn’t care about anything,” he adds quietly. “He was miserable here. Is that what you want to hear?”

No. It’s not.

My jaw clenches, my nostrils flaring as my eyes burn with tears that I refuse to let fall. Not in front of him. He’s seen and heard enough.

I want to ask him why he kept him here, why he kept him away from me if he knew he was miserable, but I don’t. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that.

“You haven’t packed much,” I say, changing the subject.

Heading for the kitchen, he turns the kettle on and grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “I’m not coming back to Hawthorne. I’m staying here.”

I thought as much. “Why?”

“I changed my mind.” He shrugs. “I have a life here. My friends. My job. I can’t just leave.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t really have a choice now.”

He gives me a questioning look over his shoulder.

I smile at him. “I already paid off your landlord and told him you’d be out by the end of the day.”

The spoon he’s holding clatters on the counter.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope.”

He glares. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because if you’re still here, he can run back to you. I’m not letting that happen. Not again.”

He raises his brows. “You’re insane.”

“You’re damn right.” Stepping closer to him, I grab his jaw and crowd him, his back pinned to the counter. “Stay the fuck out of my way this time.”

He doesn’t flinch. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll tell him what you did.”

He laughs, though there’s no confidence behind it. “You think he’d believe you?”

Some of that fight returns to me, but I resist the urge to headbutt the fucker. That wouldn’t score me any points with Adam. Not unless I tell him why I came all the way out here to break Axel’s face.

“I’m not talking about Adam,” I say with a smirk, enjoying the way his face falls. “Pack your shit so we can go home. Our little brother’s waiting for me.”

With that, I release him with a shove and pick up the cup of tea he made me.

Making myself comfortable in Adam’s former bedroom, I grab the TV remote and watch a movie while Axel begins packing up the apartment.