Page 54 of The Bad Brother

I DON’T HAVE TO ASK SLOANE IF SHE followed my brother’s advice. I can tell by the way she’s looking at me. The way she’s keeping her distance. Doesn’t want me crowding her. Touching her.

That’s what she was doing while she was sitting in her car in the parking lot earlier.

She googled Lyla’s name and now she knows everything that happened.

Or at least she thinks she does.

A part of me wants to just let her go.

Give up.

Just walk out the door. Go sit on my couch and wait for Sloane to pack up and drive away to her brand-new life, away from this whole mess—and that same part knows I should let her.

Just let her go, man. It was never going to work anyway.

You’re no prize. Not to someone like her.

Someone like you would have to fight, tooth and nail, every goddamned day, to keep a woman like her—and then, sooner or later, she’d realize that and find someone better, anyway.

Better it happens now, before you let yourself sink any deeper.

Ethan won again. Just accept it and move on.

“You’re right.” I give her a flat smile, gaze fixed on a spot just above her shoulder because if I look at her now, I’ll start screaming.

I’ll flip the fuck out and scare her even more than she already is.

“It was a dumb idea. I’ll get out of your way.

You need to get some sleep before you hit the road.

” Bobbing my head, I force myself to move, heading for the stairs.

I’m down them and halfway between them and the front door before I hear her behind me.

“Seriously?” She shouts at my back. “That’s it? That’s all I get after everything?—”

Suddenly angry with her, I stop walking and turn on my heel to look at her, no longer giving a shit if I scare her or not.

“What else is there to say?” I shout back.

“You’ve got it all figured out. You know everything so—” I lift my arms, letting them fall in an exaggerated shrug.

“yeah, Sloane—that’s it. That’s all you get because there isn’t anything else.

” Leaving her standing in the middle of the living room I turn toward the door, just to turn right back around.

“You didn’t even ask me if I did it. Like everyone else, you just believed him. ”

“Did you?” She asks quietly, her big brown eyes swimming with tears. “Did you hurt that girl?”

“No.” I shake my head. “The first time I even heard of Lyla Strong was when Cade’s father was handcuffing me and stuffing me in the back of his squad car.

” I remember it like it was yesterday. Cal came for me in the middle of football practice.

Dragged me off the field and took me to the station.

“My mother gave him permission to question me without an adult present since I was a minor. Refused to send the family attorney to represent me. Said that if I wanted a lawyer, I could wait for the public defender.” The memory of sitting in that interrogation room, all alone and scared shitless, pushes a bitter smile onto my face.

“She’s always hated me. From the day I was born. ”

Still standing several feet away, Sloane shifts from one foot the other. “Why?”

“It started with this,” I tell her, lifting a hand to point at my face.

For a second, she just stares at me, gaze roving over my face like she’s trying to find something wrong with it. It takes her a moment to figure out what I’m pointing at. “Your heterochromia?” She shakes her head like she doesn’t understand. “It’s congenital. Why would?—”

“Actually, it’s a congenital defect— at least that’s what the doctor told her.

” Dropping my hand on a humorless laugh, I shrug.

“If you know Ethan than you know our mother—anything less than perfection is not something she tolerates. Something that’s defective is instantly rejected—even her own son.

” Shoving my hands into my pockets, I shake my head.

“I supposed the dyslexia and ADHD diagnosis when I was eight didn’t help matters any, but by that time, she had Ethan so, for the most part she just ignored me.

My father wasn’t much better. He tried in the beginning—probably because I was his heir and our grandfather was insistent that it remained that way—but he’s never been able to stand up for himself where she’s concerned.

For all intents and purposes, Olga was my mother.

She raised me.” Feeling unbearably exposed, I clear my throat.

“Ethan and I were close growing up—or at least I thought we were. The older we got the more I started to notice that something was... off about him.”

Sloane frowns. “ Off how?”

“When he was seven, I caught him throwing rocks at a bird’s nest. He knocked it out of the tree and stomped on the eggs in it before I could stop him.

When I asked him what he was doing, he shrugged and said they’re just eggs .

” Grimacing slightly, I look away. “When he was ten, I found a pile of dead rabbits in the gardening shed. Most of them had their eyes gouged out. A few of them had been cut open.” Looking back at her, I clear my throat again.

“When I asked him about it, he acted like he had no idea where they came from but when I went back with Olga to show her what I found, they were gone. I think he started burying them after that.” Even though nothing about anything I’m telling her is even remotely funny, I feel bitter laughter bubbling against the back of my throat like acid.

“When he testified against me, he told the judge those stories, only in his version, I was the one throwing the rocks.”

Letting out a long, slow breath, Sloane shakes her head. “Jensen?—”

“After he arrested me, Cal started asking me questions about Lyla. When I met her. How I met her. When did we start messaging each other. The same questions, over and over, trying to trip me up.” Now that the wound is open, I know better than to stop.

I have to press. Bleed it dry because if I don’t, it’ll fester.

“Trying to get me to incriminate myself. Admit to something but I didn’t know what because whatever it was, I didn’t do it.

” Suddenly tired, I take a half turn to snag one of the dining room chairs.

Pulling it away from the table, I sit down, facing her.

“He showed me a friend request I made to Lyla, nearly a year before. Messages, from my account to Lyla’s—back and forth—going back months, sent from my laptop.

Only it wasn’t my account and it was a laptop I hadn’t used in months.

” Clasping my hands together, I hang them between my knees on a sigh.

“They established an online relationship—a very cruel, very abusive relationship that I eventually used to manipulate her into committing suicide. But it wasn’t me.

Like I said, before Cal said her name during questioning, I’d never even heard of Lyla Strong. ”

“What are you saying?” I can hear it in her tone.

She wants to believe me. Maybe even a part of her does but what I’m telling her sounds like a lie.

A desperate, far-fetched lie. Even to me.

“Ethan stole your laptop and made a fake Facebook account under your name. He targeted this poor girl and talked her into killing herself... for what? Why would he do that? He was thirteen . What would he have to gain by hurting her?”

“It wasn’t her he was trying to hurt,” I tell her.

“It was me. I was sixteen. In high school. Popular, despite my failings.” Giving her a grim smile, I shake my head.

“People liked me. I was voted prom king as a sophomore.” I remember the look on Ethan’s face when I told our mother, hoping against hope that she’d finally acknowledge me.

Maybe be proud of me. I should’ve known then that he was going to do something horrible but like everyone else, when I looked at Ethan, even with everything I knew and witnessed about him, all I saw was my little brother.

I still loved him. Still thought he loved me.

“I even made the mistake of making the varsity football team.”

Slowly coming toward me, Sloane pulls out her own chair and sits across from me with a sigh, “You’re saying that Ethan framed you for murder because he was jealous of you?”

“Little picture—yes.” I sit back on a shrug. “Big picture—Ethan’s life has been much easier without having to live in my shadow. As soon as I was sentenced, my father disowned me. Even my grandfather was forced to write me off, at the time. Without me in the way, Ethan will inherit everything.”

“And you think a thirteen-year-old Ethan was capable of figuring this out, all on his own?” She asks carefully, her tone edged in the same disbelief I heard earlier.

“I think Ethan has been capable of just about anything, from the day he was born,” I tell her truthfully, no longer caring how crazy it makes me sound. “Do you know how Hanna and I broke up?”

“Yes.” Sloane’s eyes narrow slightly while she gives me a nod. “Sera told me that she cheated on you with your brother.”