“Then you should also know that I’ll vandalize it and then your life if you don’t stay away from my sister.”
So this is about that Instagram picture. I figured it’d ruffle some people’s feathers, but this is a lot faster than I thought.
“I’d love to help you with that, but what to do?” I show my good-boy smile. “You saw how much she was into it. I mean, me.”
“That’s not true.” Brandon steps in my direction. “Glyn would never choose someone like you, so you must’ve coerced her in some way.”
“Someone like me?” I tilt my head. “You mean a fourth-year med student at nineteen, heir to an empire, and a leader in one of the world’s most prestigious colleges? Oh, and your sister’s boyfriend.”
“You are not,” Brandon says.
“Denial is the first stage.” I smile. “I’m sure you’ll get to the acceptance stage eventually.”
A slow clap makes me stare at Landon, who’s grinning maniacally. “Bravo. I’m in fucking tears over your performance.” His good humor vanishes along with his claps. “But I won’t repeat myself another time. Let my sister go or I’ll be inclined to take action against you, your leadership status, and your fucking little empire. Once I’m finished with you, you’ll look in the mirror and not recognize yourself. Maybe then you’ll realize that you shouldn’t have messed with my family.”
Hmm, interesting.
He has loyalty. No, not loyalty. A sense of ownership. He probably thinks of Glyndon and Brandon as his people—the property that when touched would reflect badly on his image.
“What if she wants to be with me?” I ask. “What are you going to do then?”
“Change her mind.”
I grin. “I’m afraid I’m not the forgettable type.”
“And neither am I.”
We stare at each other, unblinking in a war of wits. No wonder Glyndon said her brother is like me. He is, but it’s bothersome that he’s against me right now.
What’s the easiest way to make him accept me? I doubt any form of manipulation will work on him.
And he probably won’t lose interest in this since he considers Glyndon under his protection.
“Just find someone else,” Brandon says in a placating voice. “I’m sure you have endless choices at your disposal.”
Landon realizes exactly where my focus shifts the moment his brother speaks. His key drops on the car and I grin.
Bingo.
He didn’t want Brandon here. He thinks he’s weak, probably too nice for his own good. He probably can’t hold his own either.
Unlike my relationship with Gareth, Landon considers Brandon under his protection.
And just now, he knows that I’m going after him so he’ll leave me and Glyndon alone.
“Brandon, right?” I give him the brightest, most fake smile I can conjure.
He nods, warily.
“Glyndon talks about you all the time, said you’re her favorite brother.” Not really, but she would’ve definitely gone for that angle if it were the case. And I’m hitting two birds with one stone.
Brandon will feel special. Landon will be rejected out of the favorite position. Not that I think he cares much about that, but it’s a pride thing and we care about pride.
“She also said she wished you’d all get along better,” I continue in an almost soothing voice, imitating Mom’s tone when she talks to us. “It breaks her heart when you guys are fighting, and she wishes she could do more to be the bridge between you two.”
Brandon’s stance slowly relaxes and the corners of his eyes soften.
“Get it the fuck together,” Landon bites out. “He’s manipulating you, Bran.”
“Why would I?” I still speak in the same tone. “I’m not asking anything from you, am I? I’m just relaying what Glyndon told me. I felt bad for her when she said that she was trapped between you two, which is why she prefers dinners at your grandfather’s house instead of back home.”
That’s something I gathered from her Instagram. She has more pictures with her grandfather and grandmother than with her parents. She has more pictures with Bran than with Lan.
She has more pictures with her friends than with her brothers.
It’s funny how people narrate their lives through their social media subconsciously. It’s why I make my own narrative that no one can read behind.
Except for fucking Glyndon who put everything together about the absence of Dad from my Instagram, obviously.
Brandon’s stance loses all the stiffness from earlier and the haunting sound of the key against the hood makes me pause. Not for long, though.
I knew Landon came with plans to scratch my car, and as much as I’m tempted to bash his head on the metal and fill the scratches with his blood, there are more important things at stake.
Such as Brandon’s approval.
“Your brother obviously doesn’t understand reason, but I’m sure you do.” I step forward. “I’m on your and Glyn’s side.”
“Back the fuck off,” Landon says while still vandalizing my car.
The garage will fix that. But only I can keep this leverage in the current situation.
“How do I know you’re not using her?” Brandon asks a very logical question.
“If I were using her, I would’ve gotten bored within the first two days and let her go.”
Which is true.
Fuck.
If I’m not using her, then what am I doing with her exactly?
People only fall into three categories for me.
Worth being used.
Not worth being used.
Neutral.
She’s in none of the above.
But I’m sure she’s in there somewhere, because she holds enough space to fuck up my day.
“That’s not as reassuring as you were trying to make it sound,” Bran says with a raised eyebrow.
“I could’ve lied, but I chose not to. Glyn said she likes my honesty.” Before she fucking ghosted me because of it.
Brandon smiles a little, probably knowing how true that statement is, and it takes effort to hide my smirk as I stare back at the other brother.
Destroy my car all you want, but guess who’s winning, Landon?
Not you.
Yes, Brandon may not come around right away, but he’ll get there. Unless Glyndon runs her mouth and ruins it.
But even if she does, I’ll start from scratch to earn the nice brother’s approval.
All the effort I’m making for this fucking rabbit is starting to piss me off, but still, it’s entertaining.
I’m about to push a little further, just because I can, but a tiny figure approaches us in moderate steps, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.
Her blonde hair is gathered in a long ponytail with a fuck ton of ribbons that match the ones on her black dress, boots, and bag.
She’s like a fucking Goth Barbie, sans the black hair, and a creepy 2.0 version of Mom and Aunt Rai.
Oh, and this is about the worst timing to come find me.
My cousin Mia, who’s a year younger than me, holds a container of food and smiles at me, brightly, and I know not to take that shit for granted.