Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109 

It’s Sunday, and I am before a mirror, regretting my new choice of nails. 

I stare at my reflection and try to hold the eyeliner steady with what feels like ten tiny daggers sprouting from my fingers. Each movement is careful. One wrong turn could cause the sharp tip to skip across my lid and ruin everything. Again. 

I pull back and exhale. I don’t know what possessed me to get them at the salon yesterday. Maybe I was craving change. Maybe I needed a little jolt of something new that didn’t involve crying, fighting, or orgasms that left my chest tight. It was either the nails or going full redhead. I figured the nails were safer. And now I can’t even zip my jeans without stabbing my hip. 

Behind me, I hear the soft scrape of wood. I glance up at the mirror and find Knox standing at the closet door. 

He’s fully dressed for night work at his club. Black on black on black. Matte shirt, tailored pants. He doesn’t say a word. Just leans one arm against the doorframe and watches me with a look I can’t quite read. 

“Have you changed your mind yet?” I ask, turning. 

“About what?” 

“Lydia.” I reach for the folded piece of paper on the dresser. “Jade dropped a number. All you have to do is call her.” 

He walks into the room and sinks down onto the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms resting loosely 

on his knees. 

“We’ve been over this,” he says. “I don’t want to see her.” 

I cross my arms. “Why? You’ve made it perfectly clear that her death-or fake death-was the beginning of your problems. Obviously, you cared about her. You find out she’s alive, and you don’t want to talk to her?” 

“Some things should just remain as they are. I’ve gone through all the pain of losing her. Hated who I was supposed to hate. Blamed myself. Spent years in therapy. It’s better off if we don’t meet.” 

I study him, the way his forearm flexes, the distant look clouding his eyes. 

“But she wants to see you,” I say. 

“Why now? She left before and never returned. So why now?” 

“Your mother sent her away. Have you forgotten?” 

www 

He scoffs. “That would have been an excuse back then when we were teenagers. Now, it just sounds ridiculous. She let me think she died. I took the fall for her death. My father was so pissed he sent me away to redeem myself overseas or else face jail time. You know the rest of the story from there. And in all this time, she never once thought to come back. To reach out.” 

He pauses, then adds with steel: 

“You can blame my mother all you want. She’s manipulative. She’s wicked. Yes, I know this because she’s very open with her wickedness. Finn is too That’s why I don’t really care what their part was in all this. Bad people do bad things. But to trust someone and then find out they hurt you? That’s a different ballgame.” 

I take a 

a slow breath. “There might be an explanation.” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” He stands now, jaw clenched. “Because, Sloane, I am one hundred percent sure that my mother called her to come see me. And if she had to wait for her to do that, I don’t want to see her.” 

I don’t know what to say to that. Not without pushing too far. Maybe I am pushing him for the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s not about closure for him- maybe it’s curiosity for me. I want to know who Lydia is. I want to understand why her name still sends aftershocks through this family like a dormant volcano just cracked open. 

Knox walks toward me. His hand brushes the top of my head before he places a kiss there. 

“Gotta run, love. Do you really need to go to your sister’s?” 

“It’s not my sister’s house,” I say, closing the makeup case. “It’s my house. If I’m to stay here, I need the rest of my stuff. Don’t worry about me.. 

“Oh, I’m not worried. Those two bodyguards are well trained.” 

He squeezes my arm and then nudges me toward the hallway. I tuck Lydia’s number into my shorts pocket on the way out, unsure if it’s for him or for me. 

We head down the stairs and out of the house in silence. Once out the door, Knox veers off to his car, and I slide into the back of mine. My two guards- one driving, one riding shotgun-exchange a glance as we pull out of the gate. 

I sit back, trying not to think about how weird it is to have constant company. They were even in the salon yesterday, flanking me like I was a visiting dignitary. One woman had the nerve to ask if we were in a poly relationship. I hadn’t even processed the question before one of the guards told her to stay back. She hadn’t meant harm, I don’t think. She was just curious. But now I can’t even joke with strangers. 

By the time we pull into my building, I’m already reaching for the door handle. The guards move in sync with me. 

“Seriously?” I glance back at them. “I’m going upstairs. I’m fine.” 

“We know you’re fine,” the one in the passenger seat says. “We just want to make sure you remain that way. As is our job.” 

Perfect. 

I wave at Johnny, the building’s security guard, on my way in, and he raises both brows at the two men following me like shadows. Our feet echo as we make our way up the stairs. I swipe my card at my door and step into the apartment. 

There she is. Serena. She’s curled up on the couch, holding a mixing bowl of ice cream that looks like it came straight from the freezer. She glances up. 

“You’re back.”