Ruthless knight

Once again, I point to the door. “I don’t care.” 

“I m-m-miss Mom,” he sobs. “She’s the only one w-w-who ever loved m-m-me. She t-t-told m-m-me I was s-s-special.” 

I bet she did. 

Anger races over my skin, and I grab his arm. “Then maybe you should join her.” 

“W-w-what?” 

“Get out of my room!” I yell, my frustration rising. “I wa

Liam plants his feet, refusing to budge. “N-n-no.” 

He’s given me no choice. Tightening my grip on his arm, I yank him toward the door. 

Liam fights me the entire time, but I’m stronger, so I win. 

“W-w-why w-w-won’t you let me s-s-stay? W-w-why do you hate me s-s-so m-m-much?” 

Because everyone compares me to him. 

Because I don’t exist when he’s around. 

Because I’m tired of constantly being eclipsed by him. 

Because he’s sensitive, weak, fragile, and fake. 

Because he’s allowed to have flaws. 

Because he’s everything I’m not. 

“Because you’re you.”

And I’m me.  

He scowls. “W-w-well, m-m-maybe I hate you t-t-too.” 

I look him right in the eyes. “Good.” 

It will be the only thing we ever agreed on. 

I turn the doorknob. “Leave.” 

He sniffles, wiping his face with his blanket like the baby he is. “Please, Colton. I d-d-don’t w-w-want to b-b-be alone.” 

He tries to close it, but I don’t let him. “And I don’t want to have an a

“Colton.” 

I point to the hallway. “Out. I’m tired of looking at your stupid face.” 

Head hanging low, he finally leaves my bedroom. 

I slam the door behind him so fast his blanket gets trapped. 

“My b-b-blanket.” 

If I open it, I’ll have to see him again. Screw that. 

“Oh, well.” 

There’s some grunting and tugging on his end until I hear the tearing of fabric. 

Finally, he’s gone. 

 

 

Pain. 

Sharp shooting pain that makes my entire chest feel like it’s caving in. 

I spring up in bed. Liam. 

I look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s just after three in the morning. 

Liam’s probably sleeping. 

Another sharp shooting pain stabs through my heart like a needle through a pincushion. It hurts. 

It hurts so bad I have no choice but to cry out. “Liam.” 

The idiot better not be doing something he’s not supposed to. I’m not in the mood for another diet change or ear-piercing trombone playing incident.

I should go check on him. Make sure he isn’t hurt while doing God only knows what. 

Lifting the covers, I swing my legs over the bed. 

But just like that…the pain subsides. 

He’s fine. 

Yawning, I slide back into bed and fall asleep. 

“What do you want to eat, Cole?” Jace grunts as he continues making pancakes. 

Only they aren’t just pancakes. They’re Liam’s favorite breakfast food. 

“My favorite breakfast food.”

I know I’m ruffling his feathers, but I don’t care. Why should Liam get special treatment when he destroyed Jace’s room? 

 “Fine,” Jace says, visibly agitated. “Since it’s no longer scrambled eggs, what’s your new favorite?” 

Smiling smugly, I push my cereal bowl away. “Frittatas and crème brûlée.” 

I’m not sure what a frittata is, but I once heard our father ask his secretary to get him one. 

It sounds fancy and difficult to make. Perfect. 

Jace looks up at the ceiling. “You’ve never had a frittata in your life. Also, crème brûlée isn’t a breakfast food, it’s dessert. And just so we’re clear—I’m not a motherfucking chef, so either eat the shit I’m making or don’t.” 

“Why is everyone still yelling?” Bianca whines as she plops down in the seat next to me. 

“Because Jace likes Liam more than he likes me.” 

I’m not one to beat around the bush.

“That’s not—”

“Duh.” She fishes an apple out of the fruit basket. “Everyone likes Liam more.” 

Neither is Bianca.

“Mom didn’t. I was her favorite.” 

Sometimes the truth hurts so much…I prefer to tell lies. 

Bianca starts laughing. “No—”

“Bianca.” Jace gives her a warning look. “Cut it out.” Wiping his hands on a towel, he looks at me. “Why don’t you, me, and Liam hang out today?” 

Bianca screws up her face. “What about me?” 

“Duh,” he tells her. “We can call Mrs. Garcia and ask her to take us to the mall. Or we can go to the movies.”

Evidently, I’ve scored front row tickets to another Liam show. 

No freaking thank you. 

“Those are Liam’s favorite things,” I remind him, not that he needs it. 

Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “We can toss a football around the back yard for a little while before we leave.” 

Damn him. My Achilles heel. Maybe Jace does care about me after all.

“Okay.” I look at Bianca. “Think Liam will cry like last time?”

“Only if you throw the football at his face again.” 

Ah, fun times. “Good idea.” 

“Will you stop?” He tosses the dirty pan in the sink and takes out a different one. “Can we spend one damn day together without all the bullshit?” 

Bianca nudges me. “What’s his problem? He’s moodier than usual.”

 “I can still hear you, you know,” Jace shouts. 

Ignoring him, I give her the 411. “Jace and Dylan hooked up last night at the dance and Liam lost his shit.” 

“Why?” She grimaces. “Jace and Dylan have been making googly eyes at each other for months.” She swipes a few grapes from the basket. “I can’t believe Liam actually thought he stood a chance.” 

“Here’s a great idea,” Jace grumbles. “How about we not talk about this?” 

Bianca makes kissing noises. “But you and Dylan are in love.” 

“No, we’re not. We’re uh…we’re taking a break.” He stirs the pancake batter harder. “Until Liam…you know.” 

Calms his batshit crazy ass down and permits you to have a life. 

 “Gives you his permission?” Bianca probes, taking the words out of my mouth. 

“More or less,” he mutters.  

“That’s dumb,” I declare. “Liam needs to suck it up. The world doesn’t revolve around him.” 

 “Maybe you and Dylan can see each other in secret,” Bianca offers. “I saw this movie the other day where this lady’s husband left for work, but the pool boy snuck in after. She was so excited to see him she got down on her knees—”

“What the fuck?” Jace and I yell at the same time. 

“How did you…where did you…” Jace tries to say, but he’s tripping over his words. 

Bianca takes a bite of her pear. “I went into Dad’s room last week looking for some of Mom’s nail polish. I didn’t want to go back downstairs to paint my nails, so I turned on the television and the movie was on.” She pouts. “I didn’t get to finish it though. I ended up spilling the polish on the carpet right when the lady started praying.” 

Jace and I exchange a glance. 

“Started praying?” I question, hoping we’ve got it all wrong and she was watching some church shit instead of porn. 

“Yeah.” Bianca shrugs i

Well, that’s easy. “Because she was b—”