No Longer Fair To You Chapter 01
Ever since the government assigned the werebeast brothers as my mates, I’d made it a habit to prepare two glasses of milk every night.
The older brother, Anderson Hewitt, was naturally aloof, but he always took his glass politely and offered a quiet thanks.
His younger brother, Clayton Hewitt, was a different story. He had a hair-trigger temper, frequently shattering his glass and snapping at me.
I thought I was being perfectly impartial, that I was doing the right thing.
That changed when my best friend, Janelle Fowler, came over and caught on to my routine. She hesitated for a second before asking, “Don’t you think treating them exactly the same is actually unfair to the one who behaves better?”
I turned her words over in my head all day and realized she had a point.
That night, I walked out of the kitchen with only one glass of milk.
***
Anderson noticed the shift immediately.
He didn’t say anything, though; he just took the glass and thanked me like always.
Meanwhile, Clayton lounged on the couch, mindlessly playing a video game.
It wasn’t until I stood up, said goodnight, and headed for my bedroom that he finally realized something was off.
“Hey, are we out of milk?” he called out. “Or are you just too broke to afford a second glass?”
In stark contrast to Anderson’s quiet distance, Clayton was perpetually angry, rebellious, and hostile.
He put down his controller and glared at me, his words as cutting as ever. “Are you blind? Can’t you see I’m sitting right here?”
He never had a kind word for me.
Any urge to explain myself just evaporated. My smile dropped, and I gave him a flat reply. “No.”
“No? Then what’s the point of bringing out just one glass? Are you trying to insult me?”
Insult?
The word sent my mind drifting back to a few nights prior.
Anderson and Clayton had been called out on an emergency mission and didn’t get back until almost 1:00 AM.
I’d waited up for them so long that I eventually fell asleep on the couch, waking only to the sound of the front door opening.
I scrambled to my feet, heated up the food I’d set aside for them, and brought it out to the table.
Just like always, I poured two glasses of milk.
Clayton looked completely drained.
Spotting a gash on his shoulder, I stepped forward to check on it, but he shoved me away in irritation.
Werebeasts had immense natural strength. The sheer force of his shove sent me crashing to the floor, taking the glass of milk down with me.
Clayton froze for a split second, but his annoyance flared right back up. “Damn it, are you blind? Can’t you see I’m on my phone?” he snapped. “You just love hovering over me, don’t you? Serve you right.
“It was bad enough when you were always seeking attention, but I’m exhausted today. Can’t you stop being so needy and just leave me alone for once?”
That was when it hit me—he saw my waiting up and worrying as nothing more than an annoying plea for his attention.
The sheer disgust in his voice stung.
A wave of shame rushed through me. My face flushed deep red, and without looking up, I stumbled back to my room.
From out in the living room, a muffled groan sounded. Anderson had punched him.
A few minutes later, Anderson walked into my room, carrying a first-aid kit, and dropped to one knee in front of me.
Only then did I see blood dripping all the way down to my ankle—a shard of broken glass had sliced my lower leg.
