by Ella James
“Yes, since last night. And I can tell you need this. Why don’t you want to take it? Are you scared of taking pain pills?”
I look balefully up at him. “I’m scared of you. Being all up in my business. Trying to charm my family, win them over so they’ll love you, and they won’t know you’re the devil. I don’t need to take those hard drugs.” I saw Mama take so many of them in her last days. I don’t want to be all drugged out. “Not when I can get by on Tylenol and Advil.”
I’m surprised when he sits on the edge of my bed. “Juney. Would the devil buy you toilet armrests?” He quirks a brow, and I hate him for being so attractive.
“He might.”
“If he did, what would his evil motive be?”
“Maybe to have them malfunction so I would fall in.”
He grins. It’s a smile I’ve never seen before. It lights his face up so he’s fifty times more hot than he is when he looks all scowly.
“What joy would the devil get from that?”
I shrug. “Delight in other people’s misery.”
His face falls. “You think I would delight in your misery?”
“This from the man who gave me two puppies that I didn’t ask for?” I lift an accusing brow.
His eyes widen. “You want me to take them?”
“Well not now. The kids love those little fluff balls, and I’m partial to them, too. But it’s still your fault.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah…I hate to say it, but you might have called it right.”
I lift my brow again.
“I am an asshole. I know. I just…wasn’t myself lately. Even when I am, sometimes I’m a dick.” He looks so somber, almost uncomfortable with this confession.
I give him a smartass smirk. “The dark arts can be hard to give up.” I flex my toes—a habit, I guess—and pain shoots up my hurt leg.
His eyes widen again, and again, he holds the pill out. He gives me a stern look.
“I’m tired of sleeping,” I whine.
His face gentles. “Sleep is what you need, Gryff.”
I yawn, and then laugh as he says, “See?”
“My brother’s coming,” I say with a warning look toward him as I reach for my water. “Leah says he’s bringing kegs with him, which means he’ll be trailed by his friends. His redneck, lunatic friends. If someone lights my yard on fire, I’m holding you responsible.”
His dark brows rumple, and a crooked smile twists his lips. “Me?” He gestures to himself, and I nod solemnly.
“You’re my proxy.”
I swallow the pill and blink up at him. Burke looks down at me. Nobody breaks the gaze until Leah flounces into the room. Then he steps back, hands in pockets.
“You two need anything?” he asks.
“How are the dogs? Where are the kids?” My voice is hoarse. I swallow, and Leah leans in to press her palm against my cheek.
“Dogs are great,” she supplies. “Your boy here has been walking them and all that good stuff. Pups and big ones. Kids are eating burgers at MH’s before they all come over here.”
“Sensible. Clearly I’m throwing a party.”
“I’ll host for you,” Leah says with a wink.
A few minutes later, she and Burke leave the room together. It takes a minute for the knot that’s in my chest to loosen up. Maybe it never does. I don’t know. Sleep takes me.
Chapter 14
June
Leah is a traitor. I need a shower. As my best friend, she should know that, but she’s clearly got her mind on other things. When I wake up—still early enough that there’s dim sunlight bleeding through my bedroom curtains—I lie quietly in bed and listen to the house.
I listen to the voices, ticking off attendees to my broken ankle party one by one, and then I wait for Leah. When she doesn’t pop in—and no one else does, either—I shoot her a text.
Can u come in my room? I’m a beached June…
Fifteen minutes later, I hop out of bed onto my good foot and grab for a crutch. I’ve got it and am wobbling toward the other one—a little farther toward the bed’s footboard—when the bedroom door opens and Burke steps inside.
“Whoa…”
He’s over to me in an instant, wrapping an arm behind my back and leaning me against his big, warm body.
“Shit, are you okay?”
I’ve grabbed onto his forearm with one of my hands, and I realize my fingers are shaking. “Totally fine.”
I look up at him, and he grins. “Your hair.”
“Crazy?” I ask.
“A little.”
I sigh. “I tried to summon Leah, but I guess she wasn’t checking her texts.”
“She’s been grilling.” I frown, because that’s weird, and he explains, “Your brother burned his hand, and then he got caught up talking with a friend of his.”
“Foster?”
“Yeah, the blond guy?”
I nod. He looks down at me, and I look up at him, and suddenly I’m too warm. “I just need to get these crutches under my arms, and I should be good to go.”
“Where are you going?”
“Powder room.”
“What is the powder room?” He looks genuinely puzzled.
“It’s the lady’s room, Burke.”
His eyes light up, as if he finds that funny. “I can help you over there.”
“No thanks.”
“No?”
“You know. It’s kind of personal.”
“Even walking to the door?”
I sniff. “Just pass me that crutch there and leave my bedroom door open. Then skedaddle.”
“Is your lair a women only space?” He’s smirking.
“Just no snakes.”
That brings forth his quiet chuckle as his big hand grips my waist and he helps me steady myself on the crutches.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Have you ever used crutches before?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t we do a little practice? Oh, and—” He pulls something from his pocket.
I shake my head before he even opens his palm. “Not another one of those. I’m like a zombie already.”
He smiles and shakes his head and then he pulls three Advil from his other pocket. “This more your speed right now?”
“Thank you.” He holds my water glass for me, and I swallow the pills using the red straw. After that, his eyes are on me, and my freaking cheeks are burning. There’s not enough air for both of us in this little room. “So I guess my family just abandoned me to the stranger.”
“A handsome stranger,” he says. “Charming, too. At least that’s what I heard them say.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “Keep fishing like that and you might just fall in.”
That makes him laugh again. “You Southern people and your phrases.”
“Down here, we call them sayings.”
“Do you now?” He does it again! Smiles at me until my cheeks are too hot.
“Okay, so what do I do? Just like this?” I swing my body in between the crutches, moving toward the bathroom. “Pretty easy.”
“You’re a natural.”
A thought hits me like a lightning bolt. “Hot Rocket! What happened?” I try to whirl around so I can face him, and he’s there to grab my arm so I don’t bust my fool ass. When I’m steady, I see something like concern pass over his face. My stomach lurches so hard I feel sick.
“Oh, please—”
“He’s okay.”
I shut my eyes against the tears that burn behind my eyelids. “Okay.” I swallow, and I can feel him stepping closer to me again.
“He’s okay. He has a fracture, but it’s an incomplete fracture. One of the small bones in the right front leg. It’s just a crack, upper part of the leg. He’s going to be okay.”
I nod, but a tear drips down my temple. It was my fault.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
My gaze snaps to his. “Yes it was. I felt him struggle with his footing a few
seconds before he fell, but I didn’t adjust course.”
“Define a ‘few’ seconds. ”
I swallow, shaking my head. I don’t know. It might have been milliseconds, but it still counts.
He nods. “There wasn’t enough time. It might have felt like seconds, but it wasn’t. It was fractions of a second, more likely.”
Another thought occurs to me. “Where is he now? Who has him?”
“He’s at a vet in Albany.”
“In Albany,” I repeat slowly. The vet we usually use is over in Dawson.
“Your brother and I talked about it at the hospital. By phone. We’ve got it figured out.”
I sigh, because I’m sure that means Shawn is, again, spending money on me that he doesn’t have.
I’m surprised when Burke’s hand skims my shoulder. “Don’t worry about this stuff now. I mean it when I said he’s going to be okay. Shawn can tell you more about him. If he slows up on the drinking.” He grins.
“Oh, he won’t. Especially not if Foster’s here. Those two could drain the ocean.”
He smiles like it’s a novelty—my country brother and his dumb friend.
“Bunch of drunks around here.”
“They’re just having fun,” Burke says.
“So much to celebrate.”
His face softens. “Yeah…I’m sorry.”
I hiss softly as I crutch my way toward the bathroom. He says, “I heard that.” Then he adds, “Want me to wait outside?”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll leave your bedroom door open, and I’ll be watching for you coming down the hall. I already pulled the runner up.”
I should thank him for that—for all of this; he’s doing one hell of a nice guy impression—but I can’t seem to find the words. I shut the bathroom door behind me, feeling annoyed. I’m tired and confused, and evidently my brother has used the occasion of my injury to hold a kegger. I realize I asked Burke about Hot Rocket but not the kids, and I feel like a crummy guardian to boot.
I look at myself in the mirror, and I shed a few tears, feeling sorry for myself and feeling like I’m failing Sutton. Then I wash my face, spray dry shampoo into my hair, and balance my hip on the counter while I braid my hair, so I look less rumpled.
I go back into my room and open the drawer that holds my pajama pants, but quickly realize I can’t fit them over my boot thing. I could wear shorts, maybe. One-size-too-big Nike running shorts and a cozy sweatshirt. I shut my door and check my phone again before endeavoring to dress myself.
Freaking Leah.
I heave a heavy sigh and use the armchair near the bed to dress myself, praying the whole time that Burke doesn’t pop in. When I’m ready, I crutch my way into the hall and down the rugless floor, into the den, where Leah and the kids are playing Chinese checkers. The kids jump up and run to me, their faces rapt and their eyes wide as they check me out.
“Poor June!” Margot says. “But you look so beautiful.”
That makes me laugh. “Do you think so?”
“I do,” Leah says.
I shoot her a quick look and then focus on Oliver, who’s tilting his head. “Why is your cast plastic, and it’s black? When Margot broke her arm, she had a real cast. It was purple.”
“Oh, I’m getting one of those soon. In a few days. Would you like it to be purple?”
He shakes his head. “I want it to be camo!”
He tugs at the ball cap on his head—a Dawgs cap. My family works fast to indoctrinate.
“Your sister bought them both hats.” Leah looks around, and I hear Mary Helen laughing loudly in the kitchen.
“Mine is pink!” Margot runs and grabs it from the coffee table.
“I love it, honey.”
“Go Dawgs!” Margot does a little jump, drawing my gaze to the dress she’s wearing. It’s denim and some kind of burlap, with a big bow tied in front. She’s wearing little leather boots with it, and in her hair is a big, satin bow.
Leah smirks behind Margot’s back, as if to say, Yeah, I saw.
In addition to the camo Dawgs cap, Oliver has on navy blue cargo pants, loafers, and a button-up, plaid shirt I’ve never seen. Like I said, they’re fast workers.
At that moment, Mary Helen comes into the living room, holding a plate of cheese dip and Fritos. I spend the next five minutes being fussed over by her—right in front of Oliver and Margot. Like some kind of child.
She leans in when she’s finished with her hen-pecking, and murmurs, “Took them shopping. What do you think?”
“You didn’t have to do that. Thank you, though.”
Head-sized bows and church attire for everyday wear is one of those Southern things that never really appealed to me. Mary Helen still won’t let any of her kids pick their clothes. I’d like to let Oliver and Margot have some choices.
“You look exhausted,” she says. “Let’s get you down on the couch.”
“Actually, I want to go outside.”
It’s still light out. From where I’m standing, it looks near sunset.
“I want to sit on the porch swing.”
“And let your ankle hang down?” Mary Helen looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Fresh air might be good for her,” Leah says, and I feel grateful.
“Let’s play Frisbee outside!” Margot and Oliver race out onto the porch, and that makes me smile.
“They are thriving,” Leah says with a grin.
“Unlike others of us,” I hiss to her as Mary Helen heads back toward the kitchen. “Have you checked your texts?”
“Um…no. Did you send a message?”
“No, I’m just asking about your texts for shits and giggles.”
“Someone’s grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
The kids left the porch door cracked, and at that moment, I hear someone’s laughter through it. My stomach does an actual flip, and Leah narrows her eyes.
“Something’s got you thrown off.” She steps closer to me, and her eyes spark with recognition. “Is it him?”
“Who, Shawn?”
She rolls her eyes so hard, I think they might fall to the floor. “C’mon. You might hate him, but you do have eyes.”
“Not sure if you’re aware, I broke my ankle last night.” Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “It’s literally throwing me off my ability to walk in the bipedal fashion. Which can make one grumpy.”
She makes a yeah-right face. “That’s not it.”
The front doorbell rings, and Leah gives me a look before dashing off.
Classic. Ever since we were kids, Shawn has been known for throwing impromptu parties. Probably because he’s a classic extrovert. Also possibly because he has a low-key drinking problem.
I don’t even stick around to see who’s at the front door, although I hear Ben Hollis, Leah’s latest fuck friend, as I push the screen door partly open with my crutch.
Then I hear my own name. I peer through the screen as my brother, who is standing beside the porch swing, gestures with a red solo cup. I can’t make out his words because Leah is guffawing loudly somewhere behind me, probably at something not funny that Ben said.
Then I hear that chuckle again. It makes my whole face heat up.
Fucker.
I push the door further open and there he is. Not my brother, but the stranger among us. Burke opens the door, holding it wider than necessary as I hobble out onto the porch.
“The woman of the hour,” Shawn says, grinning. “Were your ears burning?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He wisely tries to change the subject. “How ya feeling, sis?”
“Just dandy.”
“How do you feel, really?”
“I’m fine. Hate to interrupt your conversation about me.”
He has the good grace to break eye contact and look embarrassed. “Oh, just talking a little shit.”
I look at Burke. “What was he saying?”
“Don’t put him on the spot, Ju
ne,” Shawn answers. “I was telling him about that time you tried to raise those chipmunks.”
“What?” I fix Shawn with a go-to-hell look, because that particular story isn’t funny.
“She was so cute,” Shawn tells Burke. “Maybe seven or eight. Is that right, Buggie?”
“I was nine.” I look to Burke. “It’s not a funny story.”
Shawn presses onward, just to be a dick I’m sure. “She found a mama chipmunk by this log in the yard. There were little babies in it, so she busted them out. Took them inside and tried to raise them. She didn’t tell our mama, so it didn’t work out real good, but June thought she was their new mama.”
Fury throbs through my head and tightens in my throat as I realize how tone deaf this story is, now in particular. My fatally flawed maternal efforts should probably be shoved under the rug right now.
“Then there was the wild hare. Did Buggie mention him?”
I shoot Shawn a fury-filled look. No, I didn’t, dipshit. Because I barely know Burke, and I’ve spent approximately 89 percent of the time I have known him hating him.
“One of our cousins—was it Carla, Bug?—she had this giant ass black hare. You know, like a big ole rabbit?” Shawn spreads his hands about a foot apart, to show how big the hare was. “That thing was a psycho.” He chugs down more of his beer, and I notice a keg set up behind him on my porch rug.
“It could jump from the kitchen floor up on the counter in one leap, with those big ole feet. Kinda creepy.”
Burke chuckles. When I catch his eye, his smile softens.
“She was always taking things in. Real maternal like that,” Shawn continues. “Mama caught her trying to breastfeed a baby doll when she was, I don’t know, maybe three?”
“Shawn!” I jerk my head around so I can glare right at him. “Would you like me to tell your bath bomb penis story?”
His lips press together, twitching at the corners. “Not particularly.”
“That’s what I thought.” He holds a hand up, saunters toward the door that leads from porch to yard. “I gotta check the grill. Burke, you get her some beer and cool her down.”
I shut my eyes. Because if I don’t, I’ll either blush so hot my head will explode, or I’ll lose my shit and cuss my stupid, sexist brother out.