Loving The Better Brother novel Chapter 4

WILLOW

I had one, two—maybe three.

I lost count somewhere between the second glass and the way the bass vibrated through the floor. The VIP area was dim, washed in low amber light. It was just the two of us here. The music was loud enough to drown out my thoughts but soft enough here that we could still talk without shouting.

Tristan sat across from me at first, his suit jacket discarded, his tie loosened and hanging crookedly around his neck. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, forearms exposed, veins faintly visible when he lifted his glass. It was distracting in a way I didn’t bother hiding anymore.

He was really handsome.

That thought drifted through my head lazily.

We were ranting. Well, it was mostly me.

Marcus had come up again, like a bad habit I couldn’t shake. I talked with my hands, my words tumbling out faster than I could organize them.

“I think I know the reason why he cheated on me,” I said, my voice wobbling just slightly. “It’s because I didn’t let him use my body. That’s all he wanted me for.”

I laughed, but it cracked halfway through. “Nobody wants me. Nobody understands me. I bet no one even knows what I do.”

The glass in Tristan’s hand lowered slowly.

“You’re a nurse,” he said.

The fog in my head thinned just enough for surprise to slip through. “Huh?”

“You’re a nurse,” he repeated calmly. “You volunteer every month at an orphanage. You cook well—really well, actually. And now you’re teaching at a university for aspiring nurses because you feel burnt out working at the hospital.”

That sobered me up really quickly.

“What?” I stared at him. “How did you know that?”

He shrugged, lips curling slightly. “You mentioned it once at a family dinner. You also cooked for the family often, although you’ve never mentioned it.”

I paused. I remembered now, vaguely. I’d talked about it between courses while Marcus was busy impressing someone across the table. I’d thought no one was listening.

“How did you remember?” I asked quietly.

Tristan’s gaze didn’t waver. “I have good memory.”

I swallowed.

I couldn’t help the thought that followed—how Marcus never remembered.

Tristan leaned in just a little, his voice lowering. “But let’s go back to what you said earlier.”

My heart skipped. “What part?”

“You said you still hadn’t… done it with Marcus. Have sex, I presume?”

Heat rushed up my neck, blooming across my cheeks. “We—” I hesitated, then scoffed softly at myself. “Just kisses. We got married young. It hasn’t even been a year.”

His mouth curved into a slow, knowing smirk. “That’s reasonable.”

The word felt loaded coming from him.

The space between us felt smaller now, though neither of us had moved much. I became aware of the warmth radiating from his body, the clean scent of his cologne mixing with alcohol. His knee brushed mine accidentally, and neither of us pulled away.

Fuck, he’s really hot.

He chuckled under his breath.

“Thanks,” he said.

It took me a second to realize what he was responding to. My gaze dropped, then snapped back up.

“I didn’t say anything,” I protested weakly.

“You were thinking it,” he replied easily, eyes glinting.

“Crap,” I muttered.

I took another sip, slower this time. My head was buzzing, my pulse louder than the music.

He turned his head, and for a moment, we were too close. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gray in his eyes.

Then he smiled, “Hey.”

I held my breath.

“Want to spite my brother even more?”

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