Shock flared through me, sour and unpleasant. “How do you know about Will?”
“Well, you get to know everything about me, Lang. Mags’s journal’s giving you plenty of insight, I’m sure. So I figured I ought to even the playing field a little. I had a friend spend a couple of hours reviewing your online footprint. He sent me the basics—the details of your divorce. Your parents’ business. Your school being closed down. You losing your job. The works.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Sully sighed. “Do you really care if I know your ex-husband cheated on you? Really?”
“Yes!”
“Why?” He was so calm. So reasonable. So infuriating. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t have a leg to stand on. He was never going to believe I hadn’t read that cursed journal. Never. My outrage was bubbling over, difficult to tamp down. Sully’s smile spread even wider. “How about you quit acting all bent out of shape and admit to me why you’re really here right now?”
“I told you—”
“And I told you I hate liars. Are you denying you’re attracted to me? Even though you know you shouldn’t be? Even though you know it’s weird because I’m an asshole, and because of Ronan’s kids?” He seemed completely unaffected by the words coming out of his own mouth. He didn’t seem to care that they were bound to affect me either. He just sat there, watching me, waiting.
He wasn’t going to win. Not this time. Even if it meant embarrassing myself by owning something I’d been avoiding acknowledging even to myself. But the things he’d said earlier, about people ignoring their problems, or simply ignoring their feelings in this case…it never helped, and I knew it.
“Fine. You’re right. I am attracted to you. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. Not because of Ronan, or because of Amie and Connor, but because you’re a spiteful, garbage person who only sees the bad in everything, and caring about a person like you will probably make me a toxic, unhappy person, too. At least Ronan was—”
He heaved himself off the couch way faster than I would have thought him capable of, and stood over me, panting. “Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Before you even contemplate finishing that sentence, please do not compare me to my brother.”
“Why not?”
“When you’re a twin, when you look so utterly the same as someone else you grow up with, learn with, develop, become a man with, then all people want to do is find the differences between you. He was kinder. You were meaner. He was academic. You were destructive. He was the family man. You were the warmonger. It’s fucked. I don’t want to hear it. Especially from you—someone who knew Ronan for all of five fucking minutes, and who still doesn’t know me at all.”
“I would if you damn well let me!”
“I DON’T WANT—” The room erupted with a high-pitched, startling sound, cutting through our argument. Sully almost leapt out of his skin, spinning around, eyes wild and wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“What the hell is that?” I yelled.
He still looked on edge, but a calmness settled over Sully all of a sudden. “Smoke detector,” he said, low, so I could hardly hear him over the racket. “You’re burning down my kitchen, Lang.”
“Oh, shit, the stew!” I dashed into the kitchen. The gas burner underneath the cast iron pot the food had been cooking in was charred, and smoke was curling up from underneath it, thin and black but enough to have set off the alarm. “Fuck.” I quickly turned off the burner and moved the pot, checking inside to survey the damage done to the stew. Thankfully it looked fine. It wasn’t even burned on the bottom. The base of the pot, however, was ruined. The alarm stopped, leaving my ears ringing.
“I didn’t think to ask if you were a decent cook before I let you loose in here,” Sully said behind me. “Here, let me see.”
I got out of the way, and he poked and prodded at the stovetop. “The element’s almost gone,” he said, pulling a face. “I’ve been meaning to replace it for a while. It catches light when the burner gets too hot sometimes.”
“So this wasn’t my fault?”
“No, this wasn’t your fault, Lang. Relax. Go sit down. I’ll bring the food through.”
I started to argue—he shouldn’t be picking up heavy pots, or doling out food. The whole point of me coming here to cook was so that he didn’t have to—but then I saw the look on his face and I backed out of the kitchen without another word. He brought in two bowls shortly after, then went back and collected the biscuits I’d made from the oven. We ate in silence, Sully only managing to finish half the bowl he’d served himself before he set it down, groaning.
“Go on. Tell me my food tastes disgusting. I dare you.”
“It was great, Lang. But you may have noticed that I’m a little under the weather right now. My appetite isn’t what it normally is.”