His Identity

7

|Aveline's POV|

Having breakfast with Carter and Rhys every morning is kind of a tradition. We do that every morning- well, most morning.

Some days, Carter wasn't there. He'd be too busy working so he would not even bother returning home the previous day just like at the moment. Rhys and I never questioned it though.

"My whole body is hungover," Rhys mutters dramatically as he shoves a piece of pancake inside his mouth, "oh god, I hate life."

Rhys works in a tattoo parlour, he's a tattoo artist and he absolutely adores what he does. Zale works in the same place, actually, he owns it which is why Rhys is allowed to skip whenever the fuck he feels like it.

I, on the other hand, own my own club. Well, it's mine and Nat's. Sometimes I'd go work there when I'm bored, having nothing to do or I'd just hang out there.

It's called 'Euphoria'. The name was chosen by Nat and she's a huge Euphoria fan thus the name. While it's not the most popular club in the world, it's very successful and one of the best clubs in Chicago. 

"I adore pancakes," Rhys speaks again, moaning in delight as he stuffs more in his mouth, "love 'em. Especially when you're the one who made them."

"Why, thank you." I flash him a smile which he returns before resuming to eat. Rhys was dropped home by some strange man at around six in the morning. The guy actually dropped him in on the doorstep and rang the doorbell. By the time I opened the door, the man was walking away.

I had to drag my grown ass brother all the way inside, didn't even bother taking him to his room because I was certain I wouldn't have made it till there so I just left him in the living room on the carpet.

"Have you ever wondered how much of an asshole dad's boss is that he keeps him working all night long?" Rhys's question makes me raise my brows, "when has that ever been a problem to you?"

"It's always been," he mumbles, "I just never voiced it out before. Don't you find it suspicious?"

"Why would I?"

"Come on, Ave!" he groans, rolling his eyes while leaning back in his seat, "he goes to work everyday, sometimes at seven, sometimes eight or nine or even ten then comes back home at like four in the morning-" he pauses, his expression turning into what I assume was sadness, "sometimes he doesn't even bother coming home and when he does, he's tired as hell and barely says anything to us. It's been that way since forever."

It's actually kinda true. Ever since my dad disappeared and Carter decided to take me in as one of his own, he was barely even there. It was mostly Rhys who took care of me and he was five himself. But when Carter was here, he'd do his best so I couldn't really complain.

I have everything someone could possibly want ; a house, a family, a job, friends, a somewhat fine health. I just lack the will to live but that was okay, I'm working on it.

"He's a businessman," I speak regarding to what Rhys said even though I don't believe the words that are leaving my mouth. Carter really does act suspicious. "So I guess it's normal?"

"Even you don't believe that," he mutters with a small sigh, "whatever. Who dropped me home? I don't remember."

"I don't know," I shrug, "some guy."

"What guy-" he is interrupted when our front door burst open and three familiar figures walks in.

"Good morning, my loves!" Nat exclaims, as cheerful as ever with a bright smile on her face which soon contorts into a frown when she groans and holds her head, "I hate being hungover."