Page 27 of Van Cort

“You were making dinner, weren’t you?” he eventually says.

I hear her moving around, probably for her clothes. “Actually, we were. And it’s going to be ruined.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something else to throw together.”

I lean my head back on the brick in the passageway, closing my eyes.

“Are you alright?” she asks. He’s fine. Thinking. “Everett?”

“What?”

“You’re staring into space again.” He’s remembering. Like I am. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Just remembering.”

“Remembering what?” Us. Her.

“Childhood.”

“I hope what we just did wasn’t part of your childhood.” She laughs lightly. “That was far too risqué for children.” Hmm.

Silence.

Her heels start moving. “Everett, do you mind me asking something?”

“I’m not sure until you ask.”

“Well… Were you happy here? As a child? You’ve seemed lost in your head a few times now, as if some of the memories you have here aren’t good ones. Or being here isn’t enjoyable for some reason.”

“That’s an intrusive question.”

“Sorry. I did ask first, and I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Yes, you did. As you said, we’re here to find each other. I’m not an easy man to find, and asking is the only way you’ll manage it.”

“Okay.” A pause in the air, like she’s questioning pushing or not. “So, do you have an answer? We could talk about it if you like.” Him? Talk?

Although, there’s silence again for a while. Perhaps he’s considering it. She’s probably gazing lovingly into his eyes, desperately asking him to give a piece of his black soul to her. He won’t. No fucking way will he be honest about any number of feelings this place might bring out of him.

“I’d like to talk.” He would?

“Okay. That’s good. Open and honest communication.”

“But do you mind giving me a minute?” he says. I smile and open my eyes, ready for a brotherly chat. “I’ll be back with you soon.”

“Umm, yes, of course. I’ll see if there’s anything to salvage of our meal.”

I wait until she leaves and then push through the doorway into the room again, leaning my back on the panelling the moment I’m in his space.

We stare at each other – me smiling, him frowning.

“Shall I finish the evening for you?” I ask, quietly.

“She’s turning emotional, and we both know where that might end.

” His eyes narrow, as he picks up a glass of wine from a side table.

“How’s that obsessive streak doing, Rhett?

Your rutting looked like you were trying to prove a point.

Smearing her with your cum? Mine. Isn’t that what you used to say?

” I look at the glass in his hand. “Drinking again, are we?”

His frown dissipates, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and he starts walking for the open door. “She is mine. You were right, I do want her to be my wife.”

“Is that the alcohol talking? Or jealousy?”

He pushes the door closed and looks back at me, whilst downing the entire glass of wine. “Neither.”

“Well, it’s not love, so what is it?” He doesn’t answer, so I make a move for the door to where she is.

His hand on my chest stops me.

“West, we can do this. I am doing this. But she’s important to me. Make her important to you, too.” I wait for more to come from his mouth. “If you’ve only come back to fuck her and me up, we’re done.”

“You know why I’m here. I told you-”

“I don’t believe that. Not entirely. There are better ways to exact revenge.” Destroying his happiness is the only way to exact revenge as far as I’m concerned. “You could ruin the business or tell the world what happened. But you’ve done neither, have you?”

“That wouldn’t hurt you as much as taking something that’s yours away from you.”

“True. But what if what I feel is love?”

I scoff and walk for the old drinks tray, hopeful it’s full of something. “You don’t love her. You don’t know how.”

“If I did, how would that sit with you?” I look around the room, glancing at every surface, every covered instrument, every wall. There was love here a long time ago. Boyish maybe, but it was love, and even in my anger, I know he did love in his way. “Does it change your reasoning for being here?”

“No.” He arches a brow at me as I turn back to face him. “You’re still an asshole. She is cute, though.” The arch increases at my understatement. “Truly fucking beautiful then. Perfect.”

“Better. Don’t downgrade her to your idea of mediocre.” He circles the room, flicking up a sheet so he can cover the guitars over again. “How did you know I was coming here with her?” I roll my eyes at the question.

“Because you’re predictable, Rhett. I took her away for fun.

It was obvious your next move would involve something serious.

Especially considering the contract. Here is about as serious as it gets for you.

” He smiles a little and slides his hands in his pockets triumphantly. “Ah, you knew I’d know that.”

“And he calls me predictable.” Asshole. “Good game.”

“Sarcasm suits you less than it used to.”

He smirks. “You’re not here for reparations, West, you’re here for me - because you need me. I get it. I feel it, too.”

“I don’t need a damn thing from you other than your misery.”

“Really.”

“Yes. Really.” He leans on the wall, one of those brows still arched. “There’s nothing else but that.”

“There’s much more than that.” He pulls at the neck of his sweater to take it over his head.

“Unsure what yet, but I’m not being blackmailed, so we might as well understand if this can even work correctly with her.

” Work correctly. He even manages to make the thought of something interesting sound like a business deal.

And why should any of it be interesting to me? I shouldn’t be even considering his words of love, or her beauty. None of that matters. Only the past matters.

Still.

“Why is she sucking your dick and not mine?” He looks back at me and flicks the button on his pants, toeing his boots off.

“You always were too nice when you asked for it.” Seems like I’ve just always been too fucking nice, according to the laws of Van Cort.

Everything would have been different if I was more like him.

I fold my arms, pissed at the thought and at him taking charge of me. “Are you getting changed or not?”