Shouldn’t Want You: A Brother’s Best Friend Romance

by Monroe, Lilian

  Sacha kept his hands behind his back, glancing up at me through his thick, black eyelashes. Had his eyes always been that pretty?

  Sometimes, Daddy used to bring me to the top of the hill just outside of town during a thunderstorm and we’d look at the ocean. Just the two of us. The water looked dark and gray, and it flashed bright when lightning hit it.

  That was the color of Sacha’s eyes.

  With one more step, I was standing in front of him. He was taller than me, with my head just reaching his shoulders. His thin, wiry arms were still holding something behind his back as excitement curled in the pit of my stomach.

  Sacha wasn’t so bad. My brother’s best friend teased me sometimes, but I was pretty sure he cared about me. He always made sure to wait for me when we walked home from school, even though I knew Max didn’t want to.

  Sacha blinked. “Will you accept my apology?”

  I nodded slowly, and all my anger disappeared. I liked Sacha a lot. I didn’t want him to be mean to me.

  “Are you ready for your present?”

  I nodded again, nervous excitement jumping in my belly.

  Sacha spun around to keep my present hidden, turning back around with his hands cupped in front of him. A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded.

  “Put out your hands.”

  I held my palms out and Sacha put his hands on top of them. His skin was soft and warm, and a tingle pierced my stomach.

  Then, he opened his hands and dropped something in them.

  Something cold.

  And slimy.

  And wriggly.

  A frog jumped out of my hands as I screeched, scrambling backward. The creature stared up at me from the floor as Sacha threw his head back, laughing. My brother cackled from the doorway, sticking his tongue out at me. The frog jumped toward me and I screamed again, falling backward and knocking a chair over.

  Mom appeared behind me, yelling something as the boys took off running back toward the creek.

  “Bye, Frogface!” Smelly Sacha Black yelled as he ran.

  The frog stared at me, bug-eyed, until Mom caught it and freed it outside.

  The name stayed.

  4

  Willow

  The world goes completely still, apart from my racing heart.

  He’s here, and my goodness, he’s gorgeous.

  Sacha Black left Woodvale ten years ago at nineteen as a lanky teenager with fire in his eyes. He was muscular and wiry, but he moved like he didn’t know his body. His face had a permanent scowl. He had the sharp, red-hot anger of a teenager.

  I loved every bit of him with my whole heart. I lusted after him like only a teenager can. I obsessed over him, carving my name next to his on every available surface. He was my everything.

  And then he left, and my heart shattered. It died in my chest, leaving a big, black hole behind.

  Now, he’s back, and he’s definitely all man.

  As he stands up to face me, his height gives me chills. His body seems to dominate the room, filling it up with his presence, his aura, his smell.

  His eyes still carry pain, but it’s been hardened by years of living. They smolder as he stares at me, two gray beacons of everything I’ve been missing. When his gaze drops down my body, embers flame to life in my veins. His eyes flash, like lightning hitting the sea. My feelings for him swell, dragging me down in their undertow.

  “Willow,” he says in a low voice, sending tremors straight to the pit of my stomach. He tastes my name like he’s trying a new wine, swirling it around his mouth and spitting it out when he’s gotten what he needs from it.

  I liked Frogface better.

  My clothes feel tight, like every stitch of fabric is too rough for my sensitive skin. I try to swallow, but a jagged lump has taken up residence in my throat. My eyes drag down his body and my mind betrays me, wondering what he’s hiding underneath his clothes.

  His suit pants hug his hips and his button-down shirt is rolled up halfway up his forearms. Thick veins snake over his arms and my own heart takes off at the thought of his skin touching mine.

  I shouldn’t think like this. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t have this aching need for him.

  Even after ten years, he still has this effect on me.

  Even after everything that happened. After everything he did. After everything he didn’t do.

  “Sacha,” I croak, not able to tear my eyes away from him.

  It feels like a giant’s hand is holding my whole body still so he can examine it. I’m rooted to the floor, standing before him with my entire soul on display for him to stare into.

  He drops his eyes to my lips, and my body burns. I follow the movement of his eyes down my chest, where my nipples pebble under his gaze. Blood pools in my stomach as heat erupts across my skin. When Sacha’s eyes flick back up to mine, I die.

  This has to be what death feels like. Every cell in my body is saying goodbye to me, and I’ll soon be nothing more than a pile of dust on the floor.

  Or do I feel alive? More alive than I’ve ever felt before?

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, impressed that I’m able to string more than three words together.

  “Willow,” my brother admonishes from behind Sacha. My gaze flicks to Max and the stillness in the room disappears. I hadn’t even noticed Max and Isabelle sitting there.

  “He’s here for my bachelor party,” my brother explains.

  Sacha clears his throat, sinking back into his chair. He picks up an empty beer bottle and brings it to his lips, tipping it up only to realize there’s nothing in it. I watch him look at the glass bottle and put it back down on the side table beside him.

  Every movement Sacha makes fascinates me. His fingers drum on his leg, causing his forearms to flex ever so slightly. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He roughs his hand through his hair, stealing a glance at me.

  I look away.

  His eyes wage war against me, and I’m not prepared for it. Gray and stormy, they demand from me more than I can give. They always have.

  “I, uh.” I clear my throat. “I just came by to drop off a case of wine from the wedding last weekend. The bride gave it to me as a thank you for fixing her hair. I meant to bring it over earlier, but…” I trail off, stealing one last glance at the man who ripped my heart from my chest.

  He doesn’t meet my gaze, and I can’t decide if it’s better or worse than when he did. I disappear out through the front door onto the porch, where I left the case of wine.

  Gulping down cool night air, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before bending over to pick up the box of bottles. Heaving it inside, I force a smile and disappear into the kitchen.

  Isabelle follows me there and helps me with the box. She puts a hand on my arm, tilting her head. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re pale. Is Sacha…” My future sister-in-law frowns, searching my eyes.

  My throat tightens. “Is Sacha what?”

  “Is everything okay between you two?”

  No, never. “Yes, why?” I force a smile.

  “It just seemed…” Isabelle frowns, shaking her head. “Never mind. Thank you for the wine. I really appreciate you bringing us all these things. It’ll be a huge help for the wedding.”

  “Trust me, I know how expensive these things get.” I smile. “Have you given any more thought to the flowers?”

  Keeping the conversation on Isabelle’s wedding means she won’t ask me about Sacha and the way he’s turned my world upside down with only one look.

  I haven’t seen the man in ten years, and he can still make the room spin around me.

  “Not yet,” Isabelle says. “Been busy at work. I was hoping you could help me with some wedding stuff this weekend.”

  The thought of spending time in this house while Sacha is here makes my blood turn to ice. I manage to nod to the living room, where the men’s low voices sound. “Is he staying long?”

  “Just for the bach
elor party,” Isabelle answers, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “No reason.” I shake my head as relief washes over me. My brother’s bachelor party is this weekend, which means Sacha will be gone in two or three days, tops.

  I can handle two or three days. All I have to do is hole myself up in my own house and stay away from the bars in town, and everything will be fine. Then he’ll leave, and I’ll be able to prepare myself for the next time I see him at my brother’s wedding.

  It’ll be fine. Everything’s fine.

  Right?

  “I’d better go. I have another wedding tomorrow and I’ve got a lot of work to do.” I force a smile.

  Isabelle lets out a sigh. “You work too much.”

  “Probably, yeah.” I give Isabelle a quick hug and dart down the hallway. Yelling a quick goodbye without looking at the living room, I speed toward my car.

  I need to get out of here.

  Max lives in our childhood home, and it’s usually a place full of warm memories and fuzzy feelings.

  Today? Not so much.

  I fumble with my purse and try to find my keys. They slip through my grasp as I reach for them. My fingers curl around a lollipop stick, and I rip the wrapper off and stuff it in my mouth. Reaching back in my purse, I rummage for my keys again.

  I huff as frustration makes my heart thump harder. There’s a ringing in my ears and a tingling in my fingertips. I’m trembling.

  I just want to get out of here.

  Then, the voice that has plagued my dreams calls out behind me. His voice. Deeper, now, but still full of gravel and pain and that sweet honey that makes me want to run to him.

  Sacha.

  “You’re running away from me.”

  It’s not a question. I turn slowly, my hand freezing inside my purse.

  My eyes narrow. I pull the lollipop out of my mouth, and a tendril of heat snakes through me when Sacha’s eyes follow the movement.

  Cocking a hip to the side, I arch an eyebrow. “Can you blame me?”

  “I guess not.”

  He stands on the porch step, towering over me even more than he would if we were on level ground. I hate having to look up at him. I feel small and insignificant next to him, the same way he made me feel all those years ago.

  Pain rockets through my chest as Sacha’s tongue slides out to lick his lips. His hands flex and relax, and I have to look away.

  My thoughts are treacherous. His tongue sliding over his lips makes me think of kissing him. It makes me wonder if he still tastes the way he did when we were teenagers. If his kiss carries danger and desire, and if his touch still makes me melt.

  Who am I kidding? Of course it does. How could it not?

  Even a slight movement in his hands sends sparks flying between my thighs. I clench my legs together as Sacha takes a step toward me.

  “You look good, Frogface.”

  “Wow, you sure know how to talk to a woman.” I roll my eyes, turning back to my purse. My fingers curl around my keys, finally, and I pull them out, wrapping my fist around them. Their jagged edges dig into my skin, and the pain sharpens my senses.

  “I haven’t had any issues talking to women, believe me.”

  “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  He ignores my dig. “Never thought I’d see you dressed in black. You used to like color.”

  “I used to like a lot of things.” My tone is sharp, but Sacha doesn’t wince. He takes another step toward me, and the pain inside me dulls.

  An ache grows in the pit of my stomach, but I can’t look away. I put the lollipop back in my mouth as Sacha’s eyes darken.

  Silence settles between us, and I watch his throat bob as he swallows. Why does that turn me on? I swear, the man could blow his nose and my panties would be drenched.

  Sacha moves closer, leaning his hip against my driver’s side door. He crosses his arms, sweeping his eyes over me. Heat flows wherever he looks, and I hate my body for betraying me.

  Life isn’t exactly fair when a man can call you ‘Frogface’ and still turn you on.

  I suck on my lollipop, relishing the small bit of power it gives me over him.

  Plus, the sugar soothes my nerves.

  The air shifts between us as Sacha releases a breath. He combs his fingers through his hair and the lines in his face soften.

  My poor heart doesn’t stand a chance.

  When he looks at me again, his eyes are gentle. “Your brother tells me you’re doing well. You’re a businesswoman now.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I’m not.”

  My eyes drop to the keys in my hand. I can’t keep looking at Sacha’s face. The stubble on his jaw makes me want to run my hand over his cheek. His lips are far too kissable. His body, too broad. Too strong. Too manly.

  Too irresistible.

  “I have work to do,” I say, pinching my lips together and holding up my car keys. My eyes linger on his chest, not daring to climb all the way up to meet his gaze.

  “On a Friday night?”

  “I’m a businesswoman now,” I quip, mirroring his words. My eyes dart up to his in time to see a flash of a smile cross his face. “Weddings are often on Saturdays,” I explain.

  He pushes himself off my car to let me get in, standing on the asphalt driveway to watch me drive away.

  As I leave, I steal one last glance in my rearview mirror in time to see Sacha turning back toward my old home. An old fault line in my heart jumps, jagged and deep, and pain shatters across my chest.

  Gritting my teeth against the tears that threaten to spill onto my cheeks, I shake my head.

  Sacha Black may be here, but he doesn’t have my heart. He won’t turn my world upside down. He won’t do to me what he did a decade ago.

  I won’t let him.

  5

  Sacha

  Willow: 14

  Sacha: 16

  A roar ripped through my throat as I tore the piece of paper in half. It crumpled and shredded in my hands and I threw it across the kitchen table.

  “I’m never going to get it. It makes no sense!”

  Mrs. Wise took a patient breath, taking a blank sheet of paper from the stack to her right. She pushed it toward me, pointing her finger on top of it.

  “Try again, Sacha. You can do it. Let’s do that question again.” She wrote out the same math problem I’d been struggling with and then folded her hands. “Remember, first, we isolate the ‘x.’”

  Isolate x. Great. Wonderful. That would be helpful advice if I knew what the heck that meant. Frustration bubbled inside me, sizzling through my veins as I tried to get my eyes to focus on the sheet of paper.

  It was gibberish. Algebra didn’t make any sense, and it wasn’t like I was ever going to use it again. There were a million other things that would be more useful to learn than how to isolate freaking ‘x.’

  I should have been in the gym, or on the field. I should have been with the football team, practicing, but Coach said I needed to get my grades up before he would put me on the starting lineup again, even though he knew the team needed me to win.

  Mrs. Wise pointed to the math problem. “What’s the first thing you should do?”

  Vanilla and strawberries flooded my senses as a presence materialized over my left shoulder. Willow put her arm around me, peering at the sheet of paper.

  “Subtract that from the left side and add it to the right. Then substitute ‘y.’” She scoffed, patting my shoulder. “Easy. Maybe you should try to be less of a jock and more of a productive member of society.”

  “Shut up, Frogface,” I mumble.

  Mrs. Wise made a warning noise, staring at me with her hard, motherly eyes. “Careful, Sacha.”

  “Yeah, careful, Sacha.” Willow repeated. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you that you shouldn’t call people names?”

  She stuck out her tongue, and something strange happened in my body. Warm liquid flooded through me, pooling between my legs. Willow’s hand was still re
sting across my shoulders, and the weight of it burned against my body.

  I was getting hard.

  Clearing my throat, I shrugged her off.

  “Go away, Willow.”

  “Go help your father in the garage,” her mother said, nodding toward the door.

  Willow let out an angry huff, stomping her feet. “You always take Sacha’s side.” Her eyes threw daggers at me.

  “Go,” Mrs. Wise said, staring at her daughter.

  Willow made a whiney noise and trudged out of the room. She had no idea how good she had it. I wished my mother cared about my math homework. I wished my father worked in the garage and let me help.

  Her father was never angry. Never violent. Never ruling over this house with an iron fist.

  Willow didn’t understand that, though. She thought the world was against her, but she was the luckiest girl in Woodvale.

  Mrs. Wise turned back to me, patting the sheet of paper. My eyes were still glued to the doorway where Willow disappeared, wondering why I could still feel the whisper of her arm across my shoulders, and why her smell still lingered in my nostrils.

  6

  Sacha

  My footsteps are heavy as I walk back into Max’s house. Heat pings from one end of my body to the other, pooling in the pit of my stomach. The tips of my fingers itch to follow Willow and brush over her skin. I want to drift my hands over her soft, supple body and feel her melt in my palms. My lips tingle, begging for her kiss.

  My whole body is on fire, and I know I’m in trouble.

  That fact is reaffirmed when I walk back into the living room to see Max’s raised eyebrow.

  “Everything okay?”

  I grunt. “Yeah.”

  Sinking down into my chair, I avoid my best friend’s gaze. I can feel his eyes on me, though, hard and searching.

  “What did my sister want?”

  “Huh?”

  “Outside.”

  “Oh, I just wanted to…” What did I want to do? “…make sure things were cool between us. I know I left in a bit of a hurry.”