Swink

by Adriana Locke

  “You know how this shit works. What the fuck are you thinking?” I step to him, my eyes glued on his. “What in God’s name made you think this was okay? What made you think you could do this and not even fucking ask me?”

  We’re toe-to-toe, only inches separating us. Just like in the ring, I can taste his fear—sense his trepidation that I may close the distance between us with my fist faster than he can see it coming.

  My chest rises and falls, nearly touching his on the uptake. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d lay him out. If I wasn’t his brother, he wouldn’t let me get away with this either.

  “You need to calm down, Dom.”

  “You have about ten seconds to explain or I’m going to assume there’s not a good reason keeping me from knocking you the fuck out.”

  “I’ll get the loan. I’ve been approved. I’ll just transfer it back to her. This isn’t a big deal.”

  “You paying her interest?” I spit.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t fucking know,” I roar, turning away before I topple over the edge. “You don’t fucking know because you didn’t think it through!”

  Before I think better of it, I grab the edge of the table and slam it into the wall. A picture of a set of praying hands that hangs on the adjacent wall slams to the floor. I stand, staring at the mess, my breathing completely erratic. It occurs to me I might pass out.

  “Dom, man, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. She was just helping me out.”

  I don’t answer. I don’t even look at him. I can’t. If I turn around, I’m going to do and say things I’ll regret. I’m self-aware enough to know that.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t cut it, Nate,” I grimace. “Not this time.”

  He blows out a breath. His steps patter the floor behind me as he moves across the kitchen. “What do you want me to do? Want me to give it back to her?”

  “I don’t know what to do now. You’ve already taken it.”

  “What’s it hurt? For real?”

  Spinning on my heels, I face him. “What does it hurt? What you did was complete disrespect.”

  “To who?”

  “To me,” I seethe. “To my girl.”

  “How am I disrespecting Cam? She offered it,” he reiterates, bewildered. “Maybe you I can see. But her? Fuck that. She offered it. She can afford it.”

  Waiting until I can semi-compose myself, I watch him. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times as I glare at him. The longer I wait to respond, the longer his words have to soak into my brain . . . and piss me off worse.

  “Is that what you think of her?” I ask, my heartbeat racing once more. “You think she’s some kind of credit card?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How’s she gonna feel about this in a couple of days? You think she won’t feel like you just cashed her out? Like you used her for a buck? No, ten goddamn thousand of them?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “But what if it is?” I say, balling my fist at my sides. “And what about her family? Her brothers? You don’t think they’ll know there’s money missing from her account?”

  “Why would they? She’s an adult.”

  “Because that’s how shit works with them,” I say through clenched teeth. “What’s that make her look like?”

  All he can do is shrug.

  “I’ll tell you what it makes her look like. It makes her look like she needs monitored like a baby and she doesn’t,” I boil. “Who goes around loaning ten grand to someone they just met?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You just gave them every reason in the world to think the worst about her, you fucking idiot.”

  “I—”

  “They already treat her that way,” I say, cutting him off. “They coddle her and treat her like a baby, and she’s fighting to get out from under that. Then here you go taking advantage of her.” I tug at my hair, the roots threatening to give as I yank on the locks. “If you were anyone else, I would kill you for doing this.”

  “For taking a loan?”

  Dropping my hands to my sides, I look at him like he’s the dumbest person I know. Maybe he is. “No. For putting her in this position. You took advantage of her kindness without thinking about how it might affect her.”

  His shoulders sag.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” I sigh. “Anything else you’ve done or taken or discussed that I’m going to be hit with coming up?”

  “Of course not.”

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, my fists burning from being clenched, I look at my brother. “Things were just maybe starting to go right, Nate. And then you go and fucking do this at the worst possible time.”

  “What time is that? How is it any different than yesterday or tomorrow?”

  “I’m supposed to go to dinner with her and one of her brothers tomorrow night.”

  His brows lift. “Oh. That is a little different.”

  “Yeah,” I nod, feeling the weight of the world sitting square in the center of my chest. “It is.”

  “What brought that on?”

  I force a swallow. “I don’t know. A moment of weakness, I guess. But I was hoping to go into it with a game plan. Of trying to make myself out to not look like the no-good asshole I am, see if there was a chance to maybe do something with this thing with Cam despite every indication there isn’t. Then you go pull this fucking stunt.”

  “So don’t go.”

  “No, I have to go now,” I scoff. “If I don’t, I’m suddenly the no-good that also managed to con ten grand from her and bailed.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “The one brother you talked to at the bar. The one you hated. What was his name?”

  “Lincoln.”

  “Lincoln,” I repeat. “Okay. Were the rest of them as bad?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hated that cocky son of a bitch.”

  “But you lumped them all together because you didn’t like Lincoln. Right?”

  A look of understanding flashes before his eyes.

  “So whether or not this had anything to do with me at all, I’m guilty by association. By blood.” I shake my head, the anger starting to surge again. “You know what? Fuck you.”

  Swiping my keys off the counter, I glare at him as I march by.

  Camilla

  “I liked the one with watercolors, but not so much the primary tones,” I say, balancing the phone on my shoulder as I wipe off the countertop. Tossing the sponge in the sink, I lean against the counter. “The reds and blues are too much for the design. Too heavy. Lighten it up some.”

  Sienna laughs through the line. “Since when did you have an eye for design?”

  “I don’t,” I giggle. “I just know what I like.”

  “You have good taste because I think you’re right.”

  “So my taste is good because it matches yours? What if I liked it in reverse? Then would my taste suck?”

  “It would be less on-point, yes,” she teases me. “Good call though. I’ll keep playing with these.”

  Her keyboard clacks faintly in the distance. I imagine a pencil between her teeth, her hair in a messy ponytail, like she used to do when we were growing up and she was working on an essay for Mrs. Podaski’s class.

  “Sienna?”

  “What?”

  “Are you serious about moving to Illinois?”

  “Yeah,” she admits on a sigh. “I think it’s a great opportunity for me, Cam. I have a feeling about it. It’s the opening I’ve been waiting on.”

  “Then you should take it. I just don’t know why you can’t stay here and do things.”

  “If I stay here, I’ll do what I’ve done for the last however many months I’ve been home. Nothing. I just . . . I can’t be happy volunteering and organizing things and being Mom,” she laughs. “I know you love that and I’m proud of you for doing it. The world needs more
selfless people. I’m just selfish, I guess.”

  “You are not,” I object.

  “Maybe not. I don’t feel like I am. I just want to see the world. Meet people. Try different things. See what’s out there, you know? I know what’s here and it’s wonderful. I’m not knocking it at all. I just want more experiences.”

  “You have wanderlust.”

  “I have wanderlust,” she agrees.

  “I can appreciate that. I think it sounds fun to not be tied down to one place.”

  “Want to come with me?”

  “No.”

  “You answered that pretty quickly.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” My voice trails off into a smile. “I’m happy here right now.”

  “Because of Dom?”

  “Yeah.” Fiddling with the drawstring of the workout pants I put on earlier, I take a deep breath. “He’s having lunch with Ford and I tomorrow afternoon.”

  She gasps. “What? You’re serious? Cam. That’s . . . that’s wow.”

  “I know.”

  “Give me a minute here. Just . . . wow.”

  Pacing through the kitchen, I remember Ford’s voice as he accepted my offer. He’s the only one I could ask, besides Sienna. The others would be too overbearing. Too judgmental. Too illogical. Still, I’m not convinced beyond a reasonable doubt this will end up in a good place with Ford either.

  I can’t blame them. I’ve always looked at their interest to keep me safe as an asset. There’s a level of comfort knowing you have a family that loves you as much as mine does me. It’s never bothered me at all . . . until lately.

  “You know what? It’s not their call who I date,” I insist, more to placate myself than Sienna. “If I want to see Dominic, then I will. This is not up for Ford’s approval. This is an olive branch so they’ll get off my back.”

  “This is totally up for Ford’s approval or you wouldn’t be doing it.” She sighs again. “If it matters what I think, and of course it does because I’m your twin sister, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  I stop pacing. “You do?”

  “Of course I do. You know I like Dom. Yes, maybe he’s not what our parents expect, but I don’t think it’s going to be that big of a deal.”

  “What about the Nolan part?”

  “Yeahhhh . . . That might be a little tricky. But it’s not like he had anything to do with Nolan trying to sabotage Barrett. He doesn’t even know his uncle, right? Not really?”

  “No, not really. But Nolan really fucked Barrett over. I’ll never forget that night when Lincoln found the evidence on the computer of Nolan trying to undermine Barrett’s campaign.”

  Sienna clicks her tongue in agreement. “I still think you’re fine. They rallied around Alison and she was, like, investigated before she moved here. Remember that? Wasn’t it for assault or something?”

  I sink against the table, Dom’s painful past weighing heavily on my heart. “What if Dom has done something? But there was a reason for it?”

  “Cam . . .”

  A thunderous bang hits my front door, making me jump. It’s followed by the doorbell ringing once, twice, three times. “Sienna, let me call you back.”

  “I want to finish this conversation.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Are you fine?”

  “Yes,” I laugh, peeking through the peephole. “Dom’s here. Let me call you back.”

  “Fine, fine. Have fun with the man.”

  I end the call and pull open the door. “Hey, babe.” My smile falters as I see the look on his face. “Dom, what’s wrong?”

  His jaw is set, his eyes cold, as he storms in past me. He’s on the verge of exploding, barely containing the energy that’s threatening to boil over. I can see it. Feel it. Take a step backwards because of it.

  “Dom?” I ask again, shutting the door. My stomach flips as I wait for some kind of inkling as to what’s happening. “What’s going on?”

  With his eyes trained on a spot across the room, he speaks. “If you have something you want to tell me, now would be the time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Now, Cam.”

  “I have nothing to tell you,” I say, bewildered. “Why . . . what . . . I’m so confused.”

  At the pace of a snail, he pivots on his heel. His glare is a mixture of anger and resentment as it settles on me. “Did you loan money to Nate?”

  The look in his eye has a new meaning and I feel my hands tremble. “Yes,” I say, clearing my throat. “I did.”

  “Goddamn it,” he growls, running a hand through his hair. “Why in the hell did you do that?”

  “He’s going to pay me back.”

  “Don’t you get it?” he says, laughing through his teeth. “It isn’t about whether he pays you back or not, because he will. I know that. You know that. He knows that.”

  There are too many words on the tip of my tongue to get one out. I just look up at him as he towers over me, his shoulders set back so he’s at full height, and try to wrap my brain around this.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I ask, choosing my words with care. “He needed it. I have it. So what?”

  “So what?” he asks, raising a brow. “It’s never occurred to you how abnormal it looks to just wire someone ten thousand dollars?

  “No. I just helped your brother out. I—”

  “Listen to me,” he says, taking a step my way, “you didn’t just help my brother out. You fucked yourself over.”

  “What?” I stammer. “I . . . This is crazy. You’re crazy.”

  Giving him a glare of my own, I push by him and head into the kitchen. The light is bright, streaming in from the window that overlooks the golf course behind my house. The sponge I just tossed in the sink still lies there and I wonder if there is a way to rewind the last few minutes and go back to talking to Sienna.

  Instead, his footsteps ring through the hallway and into the room behind me. With a final look at the serenity outside, I turn to face him. He’s standing by the island watching me. His jaw is a little less clenched, but there’s no smile on his handsome face.

  “I’m so mad right now . . .” He blows out a breath, his hand shaking as he runs it through his hair. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m just gonna go.”

  “No, wait,” I say as he turns away. “Stay. Please.”

  “This isn’t something your little smile can fix.”

  “But I don’t understand. What did I do that was so wrong?”

  Looking at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. His chest is rising and falling so quickly, I know he’s trying to calm himself. I’ve seen him like this one time before when a guy said something disgusting to me at The Gold Room. If it weren’t for Nate, I’m not sure he wouldn’t have ended up in jail that night.

  “You just proved them right,” he says simply. I wait for more, but that’s it. That’s all he says.

  “I proved who right?”

  “Everyone.” His arms stretch to the sides, his eyes blazing. “You proved them all fucking right. Except, you know what? They aren’t fucking right.”

  “What?” I shake my head, trying to make sense of this insanity as he just stares at me like he’s going to shoot fireballs my way. “What does being right and them—whoever they are—and my loan to Nate have to do with each other?”

  “You’re not stupid. Think about it.”

  “Um . . .”

  He forces a smile, but it’s lethal. “If you’d given him a thousand, two, five—I would’ve been annoyed but not pissed. It’s ten thousand dollars, Cam. Is this normal behavior for you? To just shoot large sums of money to someone else’s account?”

  “Of course not,” I huff.

  He takes a deep, haggard breath before looking at me again. Blinking back tears, I stand immobilized in the kitchen and watch him struggle to find the words he wants to say.

  “I know you think your family will hate me.”

  “That’s not true,�
� I say, although it’s not completely false either.

  “Nah, it is. That’s just the truth.” He looks around the kitchen before settling his gaze on me again. “I can’t say I blame you for thinking that or them for feeling that way. Look at me. Look at you.”

  “I am looking at you,” I gulp. “And I know that even if they don’t . . . even if it takes a second for some of them to accept the idea, it won’t be because of you, Dominic.”

  He nods. “I agree with that. It’ll be because of everything else. Of shit like this—of appearances and assumptions.”

  Forcing a swallow, I watch the depth of the blues of his eyes swirl together. They’re a tidal wave of unnamed emotions that I could lose myself in . . . in more ways than one.

  “When did you start caring about assumptions?” I ask through the dryness of my throat.

  My question does nothing to stop the intensity etching his face or the way his eyes are dead-set on mine. “When I agreed to go with you to meet your brother.”

  As the words come out, his hands go through his hair, lifting the silky locks and tugging them in frustration. It’s like he knows he’s opened a can of worms and now he has no choice but to take off the lid and let the contents spill, no matter how painful.

  “I thought if I went that maybe, you know, this thing between us could . . .”

  “What, Dom?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it was going to be something for a while. Maybe I wasn’t going to wake up one morning and see you’d realized you’re better off without me.”

  I can’t even respond to that. My heart tightens, physically paining me that he ever even considered that, while I’m speechless at the realization that maybe he’d hoped for that too.

  Then reality hits. That was all in past tense.

  “Do you still hope for that?” I ask, biting back a rush of emotion that will only complicate things.

  “Can I? Really?” His shoulders lift, almost touching his ears, before falling. “Your family is everything to you. Here I am, about to meet them, and look at what I’m walking in to. They say you can’t make a first impression twice. You’ve just taken my ability to make a decent one.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did,” he insists. “You’ve linked my fate with Nate’s. If something happens with that loan . . .”