Aimee Noalane [Noalane - Broken Promises (Burning Mistakes Book 1)

Whats this place called again? I ask my brother as he parks in between a trail of motorcycles and pick-up trucks. I wont say it out loud, but his modified Lancer looks ridiculous parked next to them.

The Devils Gate. Theres a hint of irritation in his tone when we step out of his car.

Slipknot is blasting through the doors, growing louder each time they open and close. I hate how awkward and out of place Im feeling right now. When Vince told me wed be going out in Saratoga, I assumed wed be hitting the clubs downtown. What I wasnt expecting was to drive up a secluded road to some old place that compared more to an old tavern than a bar.

I slowly take in my surroundings, and when I pause on my brother, my brows dip. The rugged look he has going on is so different from who he used to be. Ripped jeans, steeled toed boots, the faded hoodie. A little over a year ago, Vince would spend twenty minutes in front of a mirror to make sure he had that sexy morning hairdo done just right. He was the sporty guy who wore our schools jersey, the basketball player who would always swoop in to save the game, the student teachers hated to love. Girls would line up just to get him to look twice at them.

Funny how things have changed in such a short period of time.

What? he berates.

I study the sign at the door before answering and suppress the urge to laugh. A flaming skull. The Devils Gate might be a fitting name, but somehow, I feel like The Pits of Hell would have suited it a lot better.

Muffling a snicker, I shake my head. Nothing.

Really? Cause you might want to tell that to your face.

I roll my eyes in response because I know Vince knows exactly what Im thinking. We are twins after all. He just wont come out and say it because he knows Im right.

Whatever, Aubrey. I didnt twist your arm and force you to come with me. I would have been perfectly fine with the idea of you staying home with Mom and Dad.

Courtesy of my dad, my mother and brother werent aware I was coming home for the weekend. Ive been living in New York for nine months now. The last time I made the six-hour drive home was for Christmas, and the only reason why I came back was because I didnt have a choice. Ive been avoiding Grady-Falls, our small town outside Saratoga because thats what it is: a small town; a place where everyone makes it a point of knowing everyone elses business without actually going to the source. Its annoying, especially when youre the source of the gossip.

Every now and then, over the past school year, Id tell my family Id be making the trip home, but when the time came, Id make up an excuse and back out at the last minute, disappointing them each and every time. So, when I told my father I was coming home this week, he asked me not to tell anyone.

Vince was the one who answered when I knocked on the door of our childhood home. I knew hed be there because our dad said they would be sitting down for their monthly dinner by the time I arrived at the house. He opened and froze. It was almost as if he couldnt believe his eyes. I gave Vince a small apologetic shrug hoping hed forgive me for my prolonged absence, and he did. He dropped his hand from the knob, and with teary eyes, he pulled me into his arms and exhaled a sigh of relief in the crook of my neck.

I missed him.

I missed my parents too, but being away from Vince felt like I was missing the better half of me. Phone calls and text messages are great, but its nothing compared to the comfort of his embrace.

Vince, quit it. I told you a hundred times already: I want to hang out with you tonight. I have to go back on Sunday morning and this is the only chance well get to hang out this weekend. I slam the door to his precious car and earn myself a scalding glare.

Well at least that hasnt changed.

The Devils Gate was the small kink in my short visit home. Vince had plans with his college friends after dinner, and me tagging along wasnt part of the plan. He insisted I wouldnt like it, I told him he was wrong and insisted he could throw anything my way. So here we are.

My gaze narrows, imitating his. Why do I have a feeling you dont want me here?

I never said I didnt want you here.

No offense, dude, but weve shared our mothers womb and the same bedroom for seven years, weve been in the same classes and had the same friends throughout elementary and high school. I can tell when youre lying to me, little brother.

Something in his mood shifts and he flashes me his traditional grin. An unexpected yelp squeals out of me when he grabs my arms, wrapping them around his broad shoulders to carry me on his back like he used to do when we were younger. Id like to remind you that Im taller than you by two inches. If anyone here is to be called little; it should be you. What have you been eating anyway? Youve shrunk.

Ive been eating just fine, I shoot back with an eye roll. Vince has no idea what its like to live in a town where its quicker for a person to reach their destination by using their feet instead of driving. And to be fair, he never will because according to the Bankes men, cars are and always will be: everything. Im just walking. A lot. What about you? Whats with all the muscles?