Page 28 of The Masks We Wear (Satan’s Angels #1)
Harvey
I’ve always hated music. I find it pointless to sit and listen to a song when you could be using that time to listen to a podcast meant to teach you something and better you or read a book on something of significance.
That was my firm stance on the subject before I met Brody Drake.
She’s proven to be dangerous to me in many ways, but now she’s adding another reason to my growing stack of reasons I keep in my head.
I still hate music, don’t get me wrong, but I hate it significantly less now, or I hate it only when she isn’t making it.
There’s just something about the way she plays and the sounds she creates, they feel like a small glimpse into the heart of the woman that tries so hard to be something she isn’t for other people.
The entire time she was on stage, I stood completely captivated backstage with a perfect view and Lucy right beside me, singing the lyrics with Brody and bobbing her head to the music.
My mother is floating around somewhere, probably trying to find a rich boyfriend, leaving me all alone with Lucy which I have no issue with.
I’ve missed my little sister so much, texting her and calling her hasn’t been enough.
Warmth spreads in my chest when I remember that Brody is responsible for bringing Lucy here, to me.
We both know the reason she told me she did this was a lie.
She did this with warm intentions even if she likes to lie and pretend she did it selfishly and that makes me question my wavering emotions over her all over again.
Every time I think I have a grip on myself and that I can successfully build a wall between us and shut her out, she does something like this to tear the wall down and leave me exposed and vulnerable, two emotions and feelings I never want to face because they make me feel like I’m not in control and I have to be in control. It’s non-negotiable.
Once the show ended, I assumed Lucy and Mom would be going home but apparently Brody planned to have them here until we leave Nevada which is two days from now.
She even went as far as to have Selene book them each a room on our floor of the hotel.
They rode to the hotel with us in the limo and the whole time, Lucy was peppering Brody with questions.
Lucy has a lot of energy in her and without the proper patience, people can withdraw from her rather quickly and leave her anxious and unconfident in herself.
It’s why I worry so much about her. Mom gets irritated and impatient with Lucy often because the thirteen-year-old moves a mile a minute from one thing to the next.
Part of me worried Brody wouldn’t understand Lucy and that she would get impatient with her quickly and annoyed, but Brody surprised me by doing the exact opposite.
Every time Lucy rambled from one topic to the next, Brody paid attention and answered Lucy with long answers rather than quick, one-worded answers that signify you aren’t interested in talking.
Brody made Lucy feel comfortable, involved, and important and I know that means everything to Lucy and I can surely tell you it means something to me too.
Mom, of course, was polite with Brody and engaged in small talk with her, but she was more interested in discussing the eligible bachelors of Hollywood with Aria and Ivory.
When we got to the hotel, Brody informed me she would hang out with Selene so I could have some time with Lucy alone.
I played a few games with Lucy, and she ended up crashing and falling asleep in my hotel room in one of the two beds.
Mom claimed she was going to bed in her room, but I know she was at the bar in the lobby.
I don’t care what she does, I’ve grown to accept that my mother will forever depend on men for everything and that she fears being alone, so much so that she neglects her own children at times.
I was happy to be rid of her for a while, thankful to have time with Lucy one on one.
I love my sister as if she’s my own daughter.
Her father isn’t very involved in her life and my mother is withdrawn.
I’m the one that’s been ensuring she gets to school every day, making sure she has money to buy lunch at school, buying her clothes, phones, and anything that puts a smile on her face for years.
Lucy needs a stable male figure in her life that she can count on and trust to protect her and that figure is me.
I hear Brody’s door close from across the hall and glance between a sleeping Lucy and my door.
It’s past midnight which means Selene most likely deposited Brody in her drug and alcohol-free hotel room and went to bed.
This time and experience with Lucy has meant so much to me and I want to thank Brody for it again but I know now isn’t a good time. It’s late.
I change into a pair of loose fitted sweatpants and a t-shirt and lay in my own bed, trying to sleep but it doesn’t come.
I toss and turn, trying to stay quiet so as to not disturb Lucy, but no matter how much I move, I can’t sleep.
One thing, one person continues to creep into my mind.
Brody Drake. I keep thinking about what she did for me and Lucy today, how perfect she was on stage, and our night in the studio at her home.
The thoughts replay in my head at full volume, and suddenly the near silent room seems almost like a house party is at play.
I sit up and the noise stops for a split second, the only sound the small breaths Lucy takes in and out.
If I just thank her, I can move on. All I have to do is walk across the hall, say thank you, and turn around and walk away.
Then, it’ll all be out of my system and I can move on and go to sleep.
Deep down, I know it’s a lie, but I use it as an excuse to see Brody because for some unknown reason, I have a burning desire to be near her right now.
I leave my room silently, careful not to wake Lucy, and walk across the hall.
I knock on her door and when I hear no movement on the other side, regret washes over me and reason comes to play.
This is a horrible idea. I turn my back on the door, ready to retreat to my room when her door opens, and I freeze.
“Harvey?” Brody’s husky voice questions from behind me.
I slowly turn to face her and feel my cock hardening immediately when my eyes land on her.
Her hair no longer has the chains and charms in it, pulled into a low messy bun at the nape of her neck and her face is free of all her makeup.
She looks ethereally beautiful, and the sight of her beauty is almost painful.
My eyes rove over her and I find her in a tiny pair of red silk sleep shorts and a matching tank top.
My gaze homes in particularly on the thin strap of silk that falls off her shoulder and I find my mind working to create images of what her breasts look like beneath the thin fabric, what they feel like.
“Harvey,” she repeats my name though it no longer sounds like a question leaving her lips.
My focus goes to her eyes as I scold myself for falling weak at the sight of her. I force my wall back up as I say coldly, “I wanted to say thank you. For staying with Selene so I could spend time with her.”
Brody nods, a small curve forming on her full lips. “You’re welcome.”
We stare at each other and wait for the other to speak but Brody is of course, as stubborn as ever and leaves the talking to me. “It means a lot to her, so thanks. And also, for what you did in the limo, being patient and engaged with her.”
She raises a confused brow, “Are people often impatient with her?”
My nostrils flare at the memories of teachers, principals, and our mother being impatient with her.
“Sometimes. They just don’t understand her.
Her mind moves from one thing to the next at the speed of light and it overwhelms a lot of people.
They get overwhelmed and then withdraw from her and get irritated with her and she’s old enough to know it. ”
Brody frowns, “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, “It’s fine,” I lie, we both know it’s not fine. I just want to be short with her before I do something I’ll regret later like kissing her. I take a step back, ready to walk back to my room but it feels like I have a cinderblock tied to each leg.
“It’s not fine,” Brody sighs, looking at her bare feet. “I know how it feels to not be understood.” A flicker of what looks like sorrow crosses her face before she forces it away and looks back up at me with big blue eyes full of years and years of being misunderstood.
The crease between my eyebrows forms and I take a step closer to her, “I understand you,” is all I say, even though I know at the best of times, I don’t understand why Brody does half the things she does.
No, I don’t understand her actions, but I understand the reasoning behind them.
She’s been pretending to be someone she isn’t for years and there’s nothing lonelier than that.
The problem is that she’s been doing it for so long, she doesn’t know how to stop and she’s scared of what will happen if she does.
But I know that if Brody stopped pretending even for five minutes, a weight would be removed from her and she’d feel free. She just doesn’t want to be free yet.