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Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Don't forget your passport!" Preston heard Mitch yell from upstairs.

"It's in my bag already," the younger Hughes yelled back, rubbing his tired eyes with a yawn.

Preston's flight back to Stanford wasn't for another six hours, but he was already absolutely exhausted.

He hadn't been able to sleep at all the previous night, electing instead to stay up and watch shitty late-night TV with his nocturnal older brother, who seemed to be dealing just fine with the lack of sleep.

But that was probably because, unlike Preston, Mitch had actually been zombie-watching the six consecutive episodes of Judge Judy that had been playing at 3am, which didn't require the same levels of brain function that Preston had been using to think long and hard about what he was supposed to do.

It all came down, Preston knew, to Lachlan.

Lachlan had said he loved him. He'd actually said it. Except, he'd been high on cocaine when he said it. Preston guessed that fact took away a bit of the validity, although hopefully not all of it.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore that he loved Lachlan. Or, at least, he was in love with him. The two sounded different in his head.

So he'd sat there on the couch at three in the morning with his brother and tried to think of a way he could fix the situation with Lachlan. Because he was definitely pissed at Preston.

And, honestly, Preston knew he kind of deserved it. It had been out of line when he'd said Lachlan didn't take care of his family. But he'd apologized for it, and the older guy had still chucked him out... And that really wasn't fair, was it? Preston had obviously not meant what he'd said, and Lachlan had gotten even with him anyway when he punched him in the face, surely.

Preston was still sporting some strong bruises on his cheekbone and a partial black eye, and he knew that if Mitch knew how he'd got them there would have been bloody murder. It had taken every inch of his acting skills to convince his skeptical older brother that the bruises were caused by some asshole trying to mug him on his way home.

He was pretty sure Mitch had bought it, if the expression of concern and not anger on his face was anything to go by.

He wondered if Lachlan regretted it.

He probably didn't.

The thought shouldn't have made Preston feel as shit as it did.

"Preston!" Mitch was yelling again. "We gotta go in five, you got all your shit?"

Preston glanced over to his suitcase by the front door. "Yeah," he called back. "Did you wrap the thing for Lachlan?"

Preston was jogging down the stairs then, a wrapped parcel in one hand and his car keys in the other. "Got it," he grinned as he chucked it over to Preston, who couldn't help but let out a pained noise as he twisted in his chair to catch it before it hit the ground.

"Mitch, be careful! They break fucking easily, it was expensive-"

"I don't understand why we couldn't have just got him a gift card or something."

Preston frowned at his brother, who was now drinking milk straight out of the carton. Gross. "Because we decided to get him something he actually NEEDS, remember?"

"I don't remember having this conversation, Preston. I remember you going out at 10pm saying, 'I gotta get Lachlan a birthday present, see you later!'. I had no part in this."

Preston gave him a sarcastic look.

"Hey, princess, no need to give me Bitchface #12, I'm just giving you the facts here. You ready to go?"