by Piper Malone
In just a few hours, the flat, dull swing has bloomed with vivid detailing. As I stand back from it, a familiar comfort fills my chest, and I know I have taken the project to the next level. This is what I envisioned for the park. A rebirthing of the place where we played as children into a new space for our community to gather and create happy memories. Admiring the work is short-lived; the rumbling of a rough engine grows louder from the east side of our family compound.
Adam. His way is to check on everyone during and after a storm. He is assessing damages, questioning the construction of our homes despite the fact that we used the same contractor, and generally forgetting that we are adults.
Adam pulls the barn door open, allowing a billow of icy, sharp air into the room, sending shavings and sawdust into the air.
“There’s a half-naked girl on your living room floor,” he says without looking at me. His eyes are glued to the swing that has been the focal point of more than one long-distance phone argument. “Is she dead?”
“Not yet. This weather ruined my plans for a deep grave.”
Adam shrugs. “There are ice-fishing holes in the lake.”
“You’re a fucker,” I mutter. The lava flow of pent-up frustration with Adam bubbles deep within. He degrades everything that seems worthless to him. I turn my back and focus on the tools strewn across the workbench. “She’s alive and well. Just sleeping. Keep your shitty thoughts to yourself.”
I hear him move behind me, toward the swing. “I see you finally decided to get this done. Nothing like waiting till the last minute.”
He’s stooped down, inspecting the work, when I turn back to face him. Just like our father, Adam can’t issue a compliment. The detailing is intricate. Roses and vines creep across the seat and up the back. Even I was impressed.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Adam looks up, drilling me with a glare I can’t quite read. “I’m going to speak at the dedication. Is there anything you want me to say about”—he gestures to the bench—“this?”
Words and I don’t get along. Thinking them is one thing; speaking is another. I’ve had Skyler here for days, and I can’t say the things I want to say or give voice to my fear that she will leave again. I feel too much, too deeply, and that feeling drowns out the words. It’s all irritation and attitude.
This project is different, and I’m not going to allow Adam to speak for me. “I can talk about the design.” I turn back to the spray of tools littering my workspace. Adam moves. His deep inhale is a sound I know all too well. He’s preparing for battle.
“When are we going to talk about you coming home, Nico? We need you here.”
The familiar argument resurfaces every time I’m here. Everyone would benefit from my permanent residence, including me. The weight of distancing myself from my brothers is a crushing pressure I carry on a daily basis. Easing that guilt means leaving Boston.
Leaving Boston means no Reign, no friends, and no Skyler.
No Rockland means no home, no woodshop, and no compound of asshole big brothers.
There is no in between. Either way, I lose.
“Not now.” I face my oldest brother, the man who stepped in and calmed down the shitstorm. Despite the fact that all of us are adults, Adam continues to steer the ship like we’re battling a hurricane when we are only sloshing around in a bathtub. “Not with her here.”
“When is she leaving?” he demands. “You know she won’t stay here, Nico.”
“She’s staying for the dedication. You do not decide the timeframe for her stay here. You’re my big brother, and you know I love you, but you will not be a dick to Skyler.”
Adam has never appreciated differing opinions. Since Dad died, he has been the ruling chief. I’ve allowed it because going along is easier than a constant fight. His heart is generally in the right place. The fact that his head is always up his ass is the real issue. I will not bend when it comes to her.
My brother seems to expand with barely contained anger. The side of Adam’s jaw flexes, and his nostrils flare. “You know she can’t be interested in staying here. She’s out of her element, and you know it.” He steps closer, looming over me. The proximity is unnerving. Adam is only slightly taller than I am. Using his height advantage only goes so far. While he’s no weakling, I’m stronger than him any day of the week.
“Don’t make any assumptions about her.” I curl my hands into fists, ready to respond to any sudden move.
Adam’s words push through his bared teeth. “That girl interferes with everything good and positive you have here, Nico.”
“Like this loving bro fest?” Sky’s cool voice startles both of us.
Our heads snap to the doorway connecting the house to the barn. With her arms crossed over her chest and her hip popped, in jeans and a flannel top, she looks like a woodland nymph ready to kick some ass.
“Hey.” I attempt a smile that feels wobbly. “How’d you sleep?”
She rolls her eyes. “Pleasantries? Sure, let’s avoid. I slept very well, thank you. The fire was almost out, so I put another log on. Are you making breakfast, or am I?”
“I am. Did you put the log on like I taught you last night?” My heart swells with the knowledge that she made herself at home. In my home.
“Yes.” Skyler’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “I see you’ve been busy.” She lifts her chin toward the swing. “I love the detailing on our swing.”
“That piece is for the park dedication,” Adam rumbles.
“It is.” Skyler turns her attention to Adam, appearing unimpressed by his presence or his irritation. “But we”—she swings her gaze to me—“made it ours.” The seductive curl of her voice leaves nothing to the imagination. She restrains her smile for a moment before the corners of her plush lips curve.
Her diversion was successful. Adam is speechless.
“I’ll be in. Give me a minute to close up here.”
“Perfect.” She turns to walk back into the house, then turns. “Oh, and Adam?”
He fumbles for a moment, looking shocked that she uttered his name. “Yeah?”
“I know he’s your brother, but he’s capable of more than you think. You are a royal jerk for thinking you can bully him. Mind your business. We’ll mind ours.”
Skyler walks back into the house as quietly as she entered. The door closes with a firm click, and at least five seconds tick by before Adam regains his ground.
“Tell me you didn’t fuck her on that swing.”
“Real men don’t kiss and tell, Adam.” I walk toward the door, my chest swelling with pride and adoration for the fierce creature living in my home. An unknown force tugs me, leading me toward the house. Eager to put my aching hands on Skyler, I pull the main switch for the overhead light, and the barn darkens.
“Close the door on your way out,” I call over my shoulder to Adam. “It’s cold out there today.”
Chapter 16
Skyler
Okay, fireplace. You will not send sparks shooting into the air that will land on my hair and light me on fire.
All my badass-babe sass flies out the window when it comes to fire. It scares the crap out of me. Fire is so . . . burny.
Leaning back while feeding another log into the fire is enough to make my arms shake. A nasty movie of my ash-covered body flailing around in the snow to snuff out flames flashes in my mind, jarring my limbs. The flames might be low, but who knows what fireball could erupt from that pyre at any moment.
Damn it! Put your big-girl pants on, and put the log on the fire!
I hear Nick enter through the kitchen, and I shove the log on the fire. He’ll know I lied about coming into the barn. My intention was to ask him to tend the fire. When the muted conversation between Nick and Adam amplified, I felt the urge to support Nick. When I heard my name in the thick of the conversation, I wasn’t going to allow someone who doesn’t know me to talk trash. Adam might be able to bully Nick, but he’s not bulldozing me.
Nick walk
s into the room, glancing at me, then at the fireplace. A knowing smirk cracks his firm mouth. “Nice job.” The little smile that brightened his face fades. “Eggs?”
“Eggs?” I can’t believe he’s going to gloss over the argument with his brother. “What happened out there?”
The stubble on his cheeks makes his jawline look even more rugged, the dark-blond hair making his complexion menacing. “Adam thinks about things differently.”
“He’s part of your family, Nick. It’s obvious he hates me.”
Nick’s face hardens. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks.”
“I beg to differ. You were inches away from a brawl in the barn. Did you tell him that your interference didn’t come here of her own free will?”
A rumble of dissatisfaction rolls through him. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”
“Enough to know that your family has plans that don’t include Reign or returning to Boston.” Or me. The few words I heard between them were enough to kick my self-destructive thoughts into overdrive. “Do they want you with someone like Veronica? A good country girl who can birth a small squadron of Harris offspring and live the good life here in snowy bliss?”
Nick’s eyes widen. “A squadron of offspring? Where the hell did you get that? My brothers tolerate Ronnie. She’s tried to take a ride on all of us at one point in time, regardless of our relationships.”
Nick didn’t refute the apparent truth. Returning to Boston is not in his plans. He also didn’t defend me. Then again, I can’t blame him for not knowing why he should defend me.
The warmth from the fire seeps into my cheek as Amanda’s voice echoes in my head. It’s too difficult to explain . . . even harder for them to accept. All they see are the scars . . . You can try to have a baby, but it might be very difficult . . . I feel the contents of my stomach boil as an uncomfortable heat sinks deep into my body. I feel my scars sting with a tight discomfort under my heavy breath. I fight the urge to curl inward and seek relief from the pull of my scar tissue. I know it’s the anxiety of the moment making the sensation intolerable, but he’ll see the pain and know something is wrong. It has been difficult to hide from him, but telling him now seems wrong.
How can I defend myself when there is so much to ask him to accept? My legs wobble when I hear Amanda’s snarky voice: I told you it wouldn’t be easy.
“Angel?” Nick’s voice bounces around the flood of terrible possibilities our reunion could bring. “Sky.” His hand curves around my arm, calm compassion bleeding over my anxious mind. “You need to breathe.”
I inhale the scent of sawdust and cold air clinging to Nicholas William Harris. His body so close to mine, ready to hold me at the slightest wobble. How am I going to leave this place and go back to a world without him? I have never known Boston or Reign without Nick. Can I honestly walk away from someone who feels so much like home? Would I be able to weave my way into a family that doesn’t want me for their brother?
“I’m not interference,” I snap. “You brought me here.”
“You are interference, angel.” He chuffs a laugh. “You are the best distraction I’ve had to deal with in months.” Nick steps close to me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He leans in, pressing his mouth to my hairline. The rich scent of wood and campfire smoke eases the sharp pang of my anxieties. My head fits perfectly under his chin, our bodies flush. “Don’t pay any mind to them,” he says. “I’m the only one you need to be concerned with.”
Damn him for being cute. Shame on me for breathing in his scent and allowing it to drug my fears into submission. Nick wraps his arms around me, and I hold tight to the hope that he can forgive me and just allow us time together.
Chapter 17
Skyler
“I’m going to fall off.”
Nick smiles, then shrugs, sloughing off my fears. “You seem to stay atop the things you straddle rather well. I’m not too worried about it.”
I slap his shoulder, failing to smother my laugher. “Dirty.”
“Honest,” he says without any concern for my modesty.
His claim is correct, but I will never admit to that truth. After he wrapped those beefy arms around me, I melted. Nick showed me his affection in that moment, and I wanted more of his claim on me.
Nick asked me how I wanted him. He took me bent over a barstool, my hands gripping the bottom rung of the barstool as he bathed my skin in rich attention. He had access to everything he wanted. I concealed everything enough to enjoy his affection. Pressed against the stool, Nick took one of his handcrafted spatulas to my rear end. Not as punishment. To solidify us in warmth and heat and trust. He touched every inch of my delicate petals with his fingers, his tongue tracing the lines of my body.
Nick only gave one command: to let him show me why he is the only one who deserves my attention. The rest was guttural moans and sharp grips on fleshy parts of my body and the pressure of his body thickening as mine tightened around him.
He scooped me in his arms, carrying me into the living room. We settled into an easy silence, my head on his lap as we watched the birds flutter around the feeders outside. Brilliant red and black feathers shocking the crisp white landscape. There was no discussion, no conversation. Just the pop of the fire and Nick’s deep breath once he drifted off to sleep. It felt so right, I drifted off too.
When we woke, Nick showed me his toy box, a shed that extends the barn shelters and arsenal of boy toys. Snowmobiles, snowplows, snowshoes, snow blowers, snow throwers. When you are living in an area where massive amounts of snow could fall at any time, preparation is necessary. The Jet Skis, tubes, and paddleboards are stored for the winter.
“Where are we going?” I ask as Nick looks over a giant snowmobile.
“I’ll show you around the grounds while it’s still light. We can check in on my brothers and get out for a little bit. Have you ever been on a snowmobile?”
“Nope.” I try to move, but I feel like I’m wearing an inflatable costume. Under the snowsuit that he pulled from a back closet, I have a pair of thermals and thick boots. The material is so heavy I can barely move my knees.
“Good,” he says. “I want your first time to be with me.” Nick gives me a pointed look, then winks.
Nick has been my first for many things. The sentiment is so unlike him that I have to laugh. “Okay,” I snicker. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“Nah.” Nick is focused on looking over the machine, checking levels and chains. “Just hold on to me, and you’ll be fine.”
Minutes later, he has the metal beast running and hands me a helmet. “Here,” he yells over the noise of the engine as he pulls a pair of ski goggles over his eyes.
“Wait, you don’t have a helmet?” I ask.
“I do.” Nick connects the straps under my chin. “You’re wearing it.”
His action is caring, but the purpose is all wrong. “What if something happens and you don’t have a helmet? That’s not safe, Nick.”
“Angel, I’ve been driving snowmobiles since I was five. I know this area better than I know the hot spots of your gorgeous body. Don’t worry about me.” His eyes widen in disbelief when I give him a sour look. “We can grab another one from Evan’s house.”
Warmth covers my cheeks. His blunt responses are nothing new, but here it’s different. Nick has brushed off my concern at Reign when there has been a security issue. He squelched my fears of the rabid raccoon wandering around the parking lot a few years ago. His rebuff has never accompanied a seductive draw. Then again, we have never had a life like this. There has always been an agenda. Goals and outcomes were clear: implement security protocol and call Animal Control. In this new version of us, his words feel natural and true. Nick is comfortable and confident, it is even easier to trust his capabilities.
He steps closer to me. The possessive glint in his eye tells me the compromise is his limit. Nick is waiting for my response with an intensely focused glare.
“Okay,” I whisper.
The heat of the snowsuit, helmet, and my pulsing need to rip it all off and cover myself with Nicholas William Harris is like living in a raging inferno.
His mouth curves into a sly smirk. He knows what he did to me, and he’s proud of it.
“Jerk,” I mutter.
He laughs. “At times,” he says before straddling the snowmobile. “Get on.” He tips his head toward the open space behind him.
The width of the seat feels weird under me. A mass of metal and gears vibrates my entire body. I wrap my arms around Nick’s waist, feeling the rattle against his abdomen. His gloved hand squeezes mine as if to make sure I’m secure. “Hold on,” he yells over his shoulder.
I squeeze him, cuddling as close as I can, and we are off.
Our snow globe world is bisected by the blue sky and peppered with looming evergreens that appear black against the pure snow. We cruise along the outskirts of the Harris family property. Nick tilts his head back to shout nuggets of trivia about the property, the homes, and the wildlife we see along the way.
Nick’s home was built on the deepest point of the property. We follow the perimeter, then ride along the road that connects the main drag in town to the aptly named Harris Way. The family named the road when the property was secured and sectioned off for the brothers.
We pass Adam’s house, large and ominous like its owner. Nick makes no effort to stop, despite the visible smoke from the chimney. I’m grateful to pass by. We have had enough interaction with Adam today.
We pass Jude’s darkened home. Nick takes time to show me the back of the house, driving past the massive cabin and the outdoor summer kitchen. The open stone counters and built-in cooktop are gorgeous. Nick points out the places where summer furniture is typically placed, creating a magazine-worthy outdoor living space.
We pull up to Evan’s home, a sprawling log cabin that appears warm and inviting. When the engine stops, I feel the vibration echo through my muscles.
“Whoa!” I stumble getting off the snowmobile, my legs adjusting from the buzz of the machine to standing on solid ground.