Page 25 of The Ecstasy of Sin

On his silent orders, we stop jogging and start walking back home. I give him all the time he wants to stop and sniff, tracking whatever nocturnal creatures are out and about.

I zone out, getting lost in my thoughts, as he enjoys the mental enrichment portion of our outing.

As we near the house, Hunter’s tail begins wagging furiously, which snaps me out of my quiet brooding. I look up to find my brothers standing on the covered porch in front of my door, looking like they’re up to no good in the dead of night.

“Hey Hunter, c’mere buddy!” Ryker calls out, crouching down and opening his arms. Since the street is empty at this hour, and there are no moving cars in sight, I drop his leash and let him haul ass into Ryker’s lap.

I grin as Hunter takes him down, climbing on top of him and licking his ear as Ryker turns his face away from the affectionate assault, laughing delightedly.

“Eat him next time, big man,” I say pointedly to my dog as I jog up the steps and stand next to the trio of mean-looking motherfuckers who have been out here waiting for me for who knows how long, probably scaring the neighbours again.

Ryker chuckles as he gets back on his feet, and we all watch as Hunter shakes off the excitement and goes to sit by the door.

My brother dusts off the back of his pants, then runs a hand through his blonde hair as he levels me with a serious look. “You don’t like us anymore, big brother?”

I ignore him for a moment as I let Hunter into the house. My dog disappears into the darkness, most likely in pursuit of the fresh bowl of water I refilled before we left.

I turn back to face the three of them, aiming my annoyance at Ryker. “Just when I think you’ve matured into an intelligent adult, you go and say something stupid like that.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, his scowl deepens. “Then explain why you’ve been blowing us off for three fucking days,brother.” He spits the last word like an insult, but I know he means it as a reminder.

The four of us are not found family. We didn’t find each other like this. What we are is something we all forged together, making the decision to anchor to one another—for better or for worse.

We chose each other as we stood in the fires of foster home hell; abused, neglected and practically tortured by the people who were supposed to be caring for us. We chose each other, and that kind of bond doesn’t break no matter what you throw at it.

I sigh, the sound loud and exaggerated. I haven’t forgotten where my loyalties lie. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I tell him with a nonchalant shrug.

“And we’ve got a brand new foreign horror movie to watch and nowhere else to be,” he offers, nodding towards the front door. He’s telling me, not asking.

I pull out my phone and glance at the time, then tuck it away again. “It’s three thirty in the morning.”

Ghost laughs, the sound drawing my attention to him. He’s leaning against the wall, a joint hanging between his lips and smoke curling around his face as he exhales. “When have we ever had a healthy sleeping routine?”

Ghost is wearing nothing but black sweat pants, his heavily inked upper body bare. He’s obviously planning to crash on my couch the second whatever movie Ryker brought with him starts playing.

“Where is your fucking shirt?” I question, lifting a brow.

Ghost shrugs, taking the joint from his between lips and flicking the ash from the tip. “I’m ready for bed.”

I look at Torin next, who is standing several feet away, looking out at the empty street. The moonlight is catching on the myriad of scars covering every inch of his exposed skin. He’s pensive, which is never a good thing at this hour of night.

Out of the four of us, Torin is the one who hates being alone. Even though he won’t admit it, he needs us as much as we need him… maybe a little more.

I sigh again, and it’s noisy as fuck, making the point that I’m tired and not about to start arguing out here in the middle of the neighbourhood.

I push the door open, and gesture for the three of them to go in. “It’s like none of you needy bastards have houses of your own.”

I don’t mean for my words to be as sharp as they come out, but I’m already expecting them to pry into Wren and what happened at the clinic, no matter how hard I try to keep her to myself.

Torin speaks up next, his expression hard. “When you grow up expecting your foster dad to stumble into your bedroom every night and beat the shit out of you in a drunken rage, you stop enjoying nights alone.”

His words are like knives stabbing through my chest, and a memory seizes me in a vice grip.

Something crashes into the door, startling the four of us awake. We’re lying on dirty, worn out mattress on the floor, two threadbare blankets between us for warmth. Torin sits up first, fear in his eyes as he stares at the door.

No. Not again.

The four of us pushed the old dresser we share in front of the door, hoping to stop him from trying to get in our room, but it only made him madder.