One Last Rainy Day: The Legacy of a Prince(2)

I don’t bother defending myself because the situation is what’s impossible.

Rarely do I ever sit on secrets with Sean, but I can’t utter a single word because if I do, curiosity will get the best of him. He’ll demand to lay witness to what I have. Once that happens, no one will be able to stop things from going into motion.

Sean doesn’t have the kind of control needed to keep himself in check—not when it comes to this. It’s getting more unbearable for me as every second ticks by. Something I’ve repeatedly failed to make my brother understand. Every time Tobias dismisses me, he fails us . . . them—all of us.

At one point, I prided myself on being the one capable of gaining access to anything I desired. Now it feels like a fucking curse—with a weight I’ll never be able to lift.

I just have to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer, and then I can serve up what I’ve been bottling up for the last few months since I started my task list.

A list that—for all intents and purposes—pivoted in a major fucking way as soon as I figured out how to tap into what’s been hidden beneath a veil of dentist-whitened smiles and fake patriotic lifestyles. Lives masterfully manufactured to resemble the increasingly elusive American dream. When in reality, I’m laying witness to the hobbies and favorite pastimes of fucking monsters.

The evidence I’m gathering against the powers that be would take down our fragile ecosystem in less than a day. What’s whirring around in my psyche is equivalent to the magnitude of ten atom bombs, and I can’t utter a fucking word.

Not yet.

“Hungry?” Sean asks, knowing he’s not getting anywhere.

Have I eaten? Am I hungry?

“Fuck, man. Two words. Give me two more words, or I can’t leave you like this.” He exhales a stream of smoke. “The hostility is rolling off you.”

Swallowing my response, I step away from his unwavering intrusion. As it stands, I can’t make a move without the support of my brother.

Sean breaks up my struggle with a hint of hope as he glances at the plastic clock hanging past my shoulder. “Shit, rain check. I’m going to be late if I don’t get going.”

The plan. We have a plan.

The last leg of it starts today with his return to Horner Tech. As soon as said plan is executed, nothing and no one will stop me from flipping the overly-polished table to expose the filth beneath. As if privy to that thought, Sean flips his keys into his palm and pushes off the car. As he readies to leave, I find myself wishing he would stay for no other reason than to distract me. Needing company is not me. Never been me. But right now, I need . . . something. “Orientation?”

“That’s one word,” he quips, his eyes calculating. He doesn’t trust me alone with my thoughts. I’m not sure I can trust my own much longer. “Give me one more, Dom.”

“Ready?”

“Does it matter?” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Time to play my part. See you at the house in a few.”





Bass thrums through the speaker on my windowsill, filtering down into the backyard of our new townhouse, where twenty or so of our most trusted loiter below. Entering my password, I hope to buy another hour from joining them before I’m summoned. I’m nowhere near the type of headspace needed to entertain, and I quickly dive in to avoid it when my burner rattles with a response to a text I sent from the garage hours ago. His replies are becoming more delayed with each passing day.

You good?

B: Define Good.

His response has me grinning, which feels foreign and has it dissolving as quickly as it came.

When I figure it out, Big B, I’ll let you know. Making a list.

B: Checking it twice?

Yeah, call me Santa, and everyone on it has been naughty. When can we talk?

B: Don’t move.

Translation—my leash remains.

Like I said, we need to fucking talk. A conversation. It’s important.

B: Patience.

That I don’t have. Not anymore.

B: You never did. Can’t get away now.

Can’t or won’t?

B: Wait for me.

You don’t know what you’re asking.

B: Not asking.

“Motherfucker,” I grit out, tossing the burner on my desk. Screen blinking for a command, I decide to forgo the rabbit hole I’ve been deep diving in. Just as I find a little reprieve in milder, more mindless work, Tyler barks my name before opening my bedroom door.

“By all means, come in,” I snap, regretting the fact that though we’re grown men, our ambitious plans for the next few months made it a no-brainer to room together temporarily. A decision I’m regretting with the traffic downstairs thanks to Sean and the constant interruptions by both since we moved in.

“Pretty sure you want to hear this,” Tyler supplies. “We have company.”

“Pretty sure I gathered that,” I jerk my chin toward the speaker streaming my playlist more in an effort to drown said company out.

“Not that kind of company,” he counters, leaning against my door frame.

Rolling back in my desk chair, I grab my stash box and unload a few supplies. “Yeah? Enlighten me.”

Tyler stalks further into the room, coming close to hovering above where I sit, his hesitance speaking volumes as he starts to preface his news with caution. “Look, man, whatever shit you have going on—”