𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗔 small boy, probably not much older than a preteen, stood at the entrance of Rueben's doorway with his arms crossed. The frown on his face and attitude-filled eyebrow pop would have been annoying if he looked anything other than what he did.
Child-like, yet professionally done up, what she assumed was Rueben's younger brother was dressed in black jeans, a black button-up long sleeve, and a bright red pair of suspenders. His collar was undone at the top, allowing for the lack of tie to make his face the center of his persona. The longer she looked at him, the more he became a miniature, spitting image of Emmet—with slicked back, black hair, and piercing, green eyes, it was uncanny.
I guess green eyes run in the family.
"So am I going to get an answer?" he impatiently tapped his foot.
Rayne cleared her throat, feeling warm as Rueben released the grip he had on her to approach him. The act was so endearing and calming, that she completely forgot he was doing it in the first place—almost as if it was a natural position for two strangers to stand in.
"We weren't doing anything, Beau."
He ignored him, barely passing his eyes over him, and instead shot them directly at her. Once more, she would have been taken aback by the seriousness in his glare if it wasn't for the slightly chubby cheeks and baby face.
"Are you fucking my brother?"
Well, that snapped her out of it.
She anxiously ran her hand across the back of her neck, suddenly very ashamed and embarrassed.
"Beau!" Rueben scolded, "Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?"
"Have you met Dad?" he deadpanned.
"Okay, yes," he sucked his teeth, "—but you don't go around talking to people however you please just because you heard someone else doing it. And you seriously do not do it with inappropriate and impolite questions regarding someone's private life."
"Yeah, sure, whatever—but you still haven't answered my question."
He dragged a hand down his face, "Do you even know what that means?"
Beau's eyes wandered to random spots in the interior of Rueben's room as he contemplated silently. It took about a minute or so for him to finally snap his fingers in eureka!—and look down again.
"Isn't it when you like someone!"
Rayne did her best to bite her tongue, but a sputter of laughter still managed to get past her defensive measures. It didn't help that, at the same time, Rueben sent her a knowing look over his shoulder, admitting that he was thinking the same thing.
What an interesting kid.
"That's not what it means," he turned back to him, "And the answer is no."
