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“Or him?”

“Especially him.” He looks at me again, that sadness becoming clearer, like if you really look in his eyes, that’s all that will reflect back. “I should go, but I don’t want to see anyone.”

Apparently, I don’t count as anyone, but I keep that to myself. “Well, too bad we’re stuck on this roof. The doorlocks when it’s closed. The elevator doesn’t come to the roof without a key, and technically, the stair access should’ve been locked too.”

“The roof door was propped open.”

“Must have been Isla. She comes up here to smoke. Or maybe me. I come up here to smoke too. But I left my key downstairs in my office.”

His eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. Not just anyone can come up here. I’m not surprised you found a way, though; the universe seems to always give you what you want.”

“If that were the case, Ellis wouldn’t be dead.”

I cock a brow. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about him.”What is wrong with you? He’s in love with your brother, and your brother was in love with him.

Hunter ignores me. “Can’t you call Isla, then?”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and power it down, where he can see me do it. “Oops. My phone died.”

“Good thing I have my phone.”

“I think it died too.” I grin, then roll to my back, looking at the stars again. I have no right to try to talk to him any longer, no right sitting up here with him at all, but if he wants to stay, I will too. I light another cigarette, feeling his gaze on me. I take a drag, then another, watching the puff of smoke each time it leaves my lungs. “It’s okay to do something unpredictable, Hunter. Pretend your phone died. Spend this unexpected time on a roof in LA simply because you want to.”

The silence stretches between us. I don’t look at him, but I know he’s looking at me, dissecting me, trying to figure me out. He used to try when we were kids, try to put the puzzle pieces of Lucas together because none of them were the same shape as the rest of my family.

He didn’t figure me out then, and he won’t now, but it’snice that he tries, even if only to understand how I can be related to Ellis, who was so fucking perfect.

CHAPTER FIVE

Hunter

Idon’t knowwhat the hell I’m doing. Why I’m still on this roof, leaning against the building in a tux, watching Lucas lying on his back, smoking a cigarette. Ellis hated that he smoked. It was Ellis who caught him first when he was sixteen. He complained to me about it on the phone half the night. To Ellis, it was just another way that Lucas was throwing away the talent he had—that he wouldn’t take care of his body, when if he just cared enough, Lucas could have all of Ellis’s dreams, all their father’s dreams. I hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. Lucas had been a kid, and kids do dumb shit, and we all knew Lucas was never going to be interested in playing football.

Ellis didn’t really work that way, though. Because he couldn’t make the one thing he wanted happen for himself—football—he refused to be denied anything else. I swear, I don’t think there was anything Ellis couldn’t do, and if he’d decided not to stop fighting Lucas on smoking, eventually he would have worn him down. If there was one thing Ellis knew how to do, it was fight for what he wanted, to push and persuade until everything worked out the way he planned.

I envied him that sometimes. The only thing I ever tried for was football, and I didn’t have the same energy for anything else. As much as I respected that about him, though,sometimes it was hard to deal with. Sometimes it made me feel like I would never be enough, and he would always want more from me, which is a shitty thing to think about him. Ellis was good and kind, and he loved me so fucking much. I was lucky to have him, and that’s something I try to remind myself of every day.

“Let me have a drag of that,” I find myself saying.

He rolls his head to the side and cocks a brow. “Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“You want a drag of my cigarette?”

“Shut up and give me the fucking thing.” I’m twenty-eight years old and have never had an interest in smoking. It’s terrible for you, and I’m a professional athlete who has no business even asking for this. I don’t even know why I am, and I expect Lucas to tell me no, but he hands it over.

I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale. The worst taste that’s ever been in my mouth attacks me, and I start coughing. “That’s disgusting,” I say, handing it back to him.

“I don’t smoke as much as it might look like tonight. It’s not the healthiest habit.”

“I’m surprised you let me try it,” I admit, and he frowns.

“You don’t need my permission to do anything.” He takes another drag, clearly enjoying it much more than I did. “But I also know you. You’re not going to start smoking, Hunter.”

“Fuck you. I could start.” There’s not a chance in hell, so I don’t know why I’m arguing with him about this.