It’s bland grilled chicken and veggies. Enjoy every bite, asshole.
“Hope it’s not another car,” Landon mumbles. “We’re running out of room in our garage.”
“It’s not another car…not today anyway.” Asher waggles his eyebrows. “I bought a yacht.”
Breslin and Landon exchange a glance.
“Why in the world would you buy a yacht?” Breslin exclaims. “You don’t even have a boating license.”
“And you get seasick,” Landon adds.
Pausing mid-bite, Asher shrugs. “It’s a status symbol. But I love her name.” He makes flashy movements with his fingers. “Property of a sexy football God. What do you guys think?”
“Hope you hit an iceberg,” I mutter under my breath.
Asher looks my way briefly before focusing on Kit. “I’ll send you a few pics later so you can put her up on the gram.”
Kit salutes him. “Aye, aye, captain.”
Asher wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Also, tomorrow they’re installing the tub I ordered. I’d like for you to take a picture of me in it.”
I’m about to remind the jackass that my wife is his social media manager, not his personal photographer, but Kit speaks.
“No offense, but what’s so special about you in a tub?” She jabs the air with her fork. “On second thought, I take that back. Your female and non-hetero guy fans will love it. Make sure to show a little pube.” Her gaze flicks to Breslin and Landon. “If that’s okay with you guys.”
Breslin stabs her enchilada. “After he did that calendar shoot last year there’s very little his fans haven’t seen.”
Landon laughs. “That’s true.”
“Pipe down, you two,” Asher says. “I don’t want Kit to take a picture of me in a tub so my fans can ogle my body. Shit, they do that whether or not I’m wearing clothes. But the tub I ordered is made out of real gold.” He smirks. “I want Kit to take a picture of me in it with all my bling and post it everywhere.”
Landon and Breslin exchange another glance.
“Are you a quarterback or a rapper?” Landon says with a chuckle.
He’s an imbecile with an overinflated ego.
“Landon has a point,” Kit agrees. “I’m not sure your fans will respond well to that. It seems a little…gaudy.”
Has she met my brother? He’s the very definition of it.
Reaching for my glass of whiskey, I snort. “Gaudy is Asher’s middle name.”
My stomach twists. Asher is his middle name, all right.
The apple doesn’t fall far.
Asher shoots me an irritated look before regarding Kit. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.” He pouts. “I was really looking forward to it, though.”
“You can still do it, baby,” Breslin assures him. “Just keep the pictures a secret.”
I grip my fork so tight it bends in half. Oh, he’s good at that.
Underneath the table, Kit rubs my leg. “So, now that Asher’s filled us in on his new yacht and gold tub, what’s been going on with everyone else?” She eyes her best friend. “Breslin, how are your paintings for the art exhibit coming along?” Her stare snags on Landon. “Landon, did you finish your studio yet?”
I appreciate her shifting the topic off my arrogant brother.
As usual, when I’m spinning out…she centers me.
Only, this time it doesn’t work.
Because the obnoxious dickhead opens his trap again.
“Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you guys the big news. I was contacted by a toy company doing a real-life hero action figure line.” He grins. “They want me to be one of the heroes.”
The volcano of anger simmering in the pit of my stomach boils over. “Why would they ever think you’re a hero?”
He snorts, as though it should be obvious. “Because I’m Asher Holden.”
Christ. He says it like it’s a badge of honor.
Like he’s proud of being just like him.
I grind my molars so hard I’m surprised they don’t pulverize. “Throwing a football doesn’t make you a hero.”
It sure as fuck didn’t make our father one.
Asher bangs his fist on the table. “What’s your fucking problem?”
The rage I’ve been suppressing punches my ribcage, demanding to be let out.
I stand up. “You’re my fucking problem.”
Asher stands up, too. “What? Are you jealous? Is that what this is?”
Far from it. I’d almost feel sorry for him if I didn’t despise him so fucking much.
His head is shoved so far up his own ass he can’t see what he’s become.
Then again, maybe he can.
Because it’s what he wanted.
“Why would I ever be jealous of you? You’re nothing but a hypocritical, self-righteous fraud who would do anything to save his own ass.”
Just like him.
His expression is a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “What the hell are you—”
“You covered for him,” I seethe, unable to contain what’s been burning a hole in my chest for years now.
The thing that made me hate my big brother. Who, for the longest time, was the only person I gave a fuck about.
Until he shattered the illusion and I saw him for exactly what and who he is.
The reason monsters flourish in the dark is because of people like him.
People who turn off the lights and close the door.
“You covered for a monster who took advantage of a kid and mentally fucked him up.”
Kit rises from her chair. “What do you mean?”
The glare I give my brother conveys what a piece of shit I think he is. “When we were in the hospital after the shooting, I overheard Asher telling the police about what our father did to Kyle. I also overheard him offer them a very sizable donation in exchange for their silence about it. This way he could save his own reputation.”
Mouth agape, Breslin stands. “Asher, is that true?”
I can see the flash of nervousness in his eyes despite his next words. “No. He’s lying.”
My vision goes red as white-hot wrath surges through my body. “I’m not lying.”
I heard the conversation with my own goddamn ears. He’s just trying to save face because Breslin and Landon are inherently good people, and he doesn’t want either of them thinking bad about him.
Because it’s a long way down from the pedestal he’s put himself on.
And his fall from grace will hurt like hell.
Asher’s icy laugh is cynical. “Why would anyone believe you? You’re not exactly Mr. fucking honest.”
No one will believe you—my father’s taunt echoes in my ears.
I’m no longer seeing red…everything around me turns black.
Chapter 54
Kit
The sound of Preston’s knuckles cracking against bone is deafening.
Asher staggers back in a daze, and Preston takes the opportunity to shove him into the table, causing a few dishes to fall.
Recovering, Asher swings his fist, but Preston sidesteps at the last second, dodging the punch.