Page 6 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

ADAM

“ L ike never saying a fucking word.”

Easton’s words still echo as I head downstairs. I glance toward the kitchen on my right and spot Frankie, Carter, Nate, and Xavi around the island. Conversation dies the moment I pass.

Frankie’s face is blank, void of any emotion. Carter raises a brow at the sight of me.

Nate looks pissed. And Xavi—wide-eyed and clearly scandalized—gapes at my bare chest before yanking his gaze away. Nate grits his teeth and smacks him upside the head.

My clothes are still in the state Easton left them in. I didn’t forget to fix them. I was hoping at least one of them would see me like this. I wanted them to see what he did to me. I want them to know that I’m his, and he’s mine , not theirs.

None of them seem to be jealous of me though. They’re just watching me warily. They’re worried about Easton. They’re protective of him…

“You love him,” I say. “All of you.”

“Like family should,” Carter says bluntly.

I wince.

“Did he tell you to leave?” Carter asks.

I nod.

“Then get the fuck out.”

Sighing through my nose, I keep walking.

“Hey, Adam,” Carter calls. “If that’s your boyfriend outside, don’t ever let me see you again.”

I turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

He tilts his head toward the kitchen window, and I blink, pinching the bridge of my nose. I don’t have to look to know who’s out there.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say. “He’s my brother.”

Carter’s brows sink down low over his eyes.

Steeling myself, I walk out of the house and close the door behind me.

I feel eyes on me through the windows as I make my way toward the rental car.

My older brother leans against the passenger side, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing our dad’s old leather jacket.

Fuck knows why he likes it so much. Our dad’s a prick.

I think he just likes the way it looks on him.

Tipping his chin at the house behind me, he asks, “Did that go the way you wanted it to?”

Unlocking the car, I open the driver’s side door. “Shut up, Axel.”

I love my brother, I really do, but sometimes I want to throttle him.

Lazing back in the passenger seat, he’s got his boots kicked up on the dash, a lit cigarette between his lips, and he’s humming along to whatever rock song is playing on the radio.

The guy will make himself comfortable anywhere.

I swear there’s not a self-conscious bone in his body. He has no shame.

When another song starts to play, and he continues to say nothing, tapping his feet to the beat of the music, I lose the little patience I have for him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I already did,” he says casually, not looking at me. “You told me to shut up.”

I grit my teeth.

“You really flew all the way here from London just to, what, tell me what an idiot I am?”

“No,” he says, feigning defensiveness. “I have abandonment issues. I missed you and your dark cloud of misery moping around the flat.”

“Nice,” I say. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Like I said.” He flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window. “Abandonment issues.”

“Axel.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I was worried, okay? When I woke up this morning and realized you’d snuck off in the middle of the night, I booked the first flight.”

“You hate flying.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You could have just called me.”

“Would you have answered?”

Honestly, I don’t know if I would have. As much of an asshole as that makes me, I wasn’t letting anything stop me from seeing Easton again tonight. Not even my brother.

“Did you make it to Mum’s party?” I ask.

“No. I took a taxi straight to Easton’s house.”

“How’d you know I’d be at his house?”

“Lucky guess. Why are you driving around in circles?” Unbothered, he gestures at the exit I’m passing for the second time in twenty minutes. “The airport’s that way.”

“I’m not going back to London. Not tonight. I’ll drop you off at the airport if you want.”

He finally looks at me then, a disapproving brow raised.

“I told him I’d be back, Axel.”

He huffs a short laugh, nodding.

He’s twenty-four—three years older than me and Easton—so he was living in the dorms at Hawthorne University by the time Easton and I started sneaking around in our senior year of high school.

Axel came home for Christmas break that year, and he knew .

I don’t know what tipped him off—if it was the way I looked at Easton, the way he looked at me, or a combination of both.

All I know is that he didn’t approve. He knew one or both of us were going to get hurt.

But he never said anything to Easton or our parents.

I made him promise not to. I assured him I knew what I was doing. He assured me I didn’t.

Turns out he was right. About all of it.

Axel and I grew up in London. When he was eleven, he found out our dad was cheating on our mum.

The other woman’s son told him, and Axel confronted our dad while I hid around the corner, listening.

Dad tried to convince him he was mistaken, and when that didn’t work, he panicked.

Begged Axel not to say anything. Promised it would never happen again.

That we’d all stay together, keep being a family, as long as he kept his mouth shut.

Axel muttered something I couldn’t hear. And then Dad backhanded him. Axel didn’t say another word. He just walked away. When he saw me eavesdropping, he grabbed my hand and stormed out the front door, ignoring our dad’s desperate calls after us.

We ran to the park a few streets away. I was only eight. And I was terrified. Angry. Confused. Mum found us on the swings when she got home from work an hour later, and I told her everything—despite Axel telling me not to.

She kicked Dad out the same day. Apparently, she already suspected he was cheating, but that’s not what set her off. She threw him out for daring to lay a hand on Axel.

I’ve never seen her like that before. The rage in her eyes… I’ll never forget it. I’m pretty sure she would’ve kicked his ass if I hadn’t been standing right behind her.

For a long time, I blamed myself. Told myself I was the reason her first marriage ended.

If I’d just kept my mouth shut, maybe they’d still be together.

Maybe Dad wouldn’t have turned into a raging lunatic, smashing her car windows and screaming through the letter box when she refused to let him in.

Maybe I wouldn’t have had to watch her work two jobs just to support us.

Wouldn’t have had to listen to her cry herself to sleep after losing the home she worked so hard for—the home Axel and I were born and raised in.

Having to pack up our entire lives and move halfway across the world to live with Mum’s sister in Hawthorne… It was all on me.

Which is why when Axel dropped out of college three and a half years ago and told me he was moving back to London, I went with him.

Instead of going to college and moving in with Easton like we’d planned, I ran away.

I left him. Because if I didn’t leave him back then, I’d have never been able to leave him, and I had to.

I couldn’t stay with him. It didn’t matter how careful we thought we were being.

Axel and Michael already knew about us, and it was only a matter of time before my mum found out.

I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t risk tearing her marriage apart and ruining her life. Not again.

So I ruined his instead. Ours. I ruined us.

“I’m not going back without you,” Axel says, pulling me from my thoughts.

I nod shakily. “Okay. Mum’s house or a hotel?”

“Are you paying?”

I laugh.

“Speaking of payment…” Lifting his ass off the seat, he reaches into the back pocket of his ripped jeans and pulls out my credit card. “I borrowed this to pay for my flight. And snacks, of course.”

Of course. Asshole.

After tossing his bag on his bed in the hotel room, Axel goes out to the balcony and makes himself comfortable on one of the cushioned chairs, smoking another cigarette.

I go into the bathroom and change into a pair of joggers and a T-shirt. Barefoot, I walk out with my iPad and pen.

“I forgot how much I like it here,” Axel murmurs, eyes closed. “It’s quiet. Peaceful.”

“If you like it so much, why did you move back to London?”

“I like the place, Adam, not the people.”

Right. I’m not the only one who ran from something in Hawthorne.

From some one . He never told me what happened before he dropped out of college, but I recognize the look he gets in his eyes sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking, because it’s the same look I see in the mirror when I think about Easton. Heartbreak.

Taking the seat next to him, I angle my body so he can’t see my screen and begin sketching my point of view of Easton in the shower tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a fresh image of him in my mind, and I don’t want to waste it.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you,” I say to Axel. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I thought you’d try to stop me.”

Without opening his eyes, he asks. “How many times have you gotten into your car and almost come running back here over the last three and a half years?”

I gape.

“Four, that I know of,” he answers for me.

It’s actually more like forty-four, but I don’t tell him that.

“I never tried to stop you,” he says.

“Why not?”

“What would be the point? You never listen to me when it comes to him. You never have.”

I drop my gaze to my iPad.

He heads for the bar in the room, returning with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“All right, let’s hear it,” he says, pouring a drink for each of us and handing me one.

“What?”

“Tell me what happened tonight. I won’t judge you.”

I raise a brow. “You sure you wanna hear it?”

“That’s what this is for.” He raises his glass. “Bottoms up, little brother.”

I cringe. “Please don’t ever call me that again.”

He stares at me, his head cocked in confusion, and then it hits him. “Jesus Christ.” He swallows his drink in one go.

I chuckle as he pours another one. “I thought you weren’t going to judge me.”

“I lied.”