Don't Need You: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (We Shouldn't Book 3)

by Lilian Monroe

  When my mother reappears, she looks like a different person. Her eyes are bright, and a hint of a smile plays on her lips.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  My mother just waves a hand. She sits back down in front of the stack of papers, lets out a shaky breath, then squares her shoulders and signs the house away. When it’s done and the agent has the papers tucked under her arms, we bid her goodbye and both let out heavy sighs.

  “It’s done,” my mother says. “Things will get easier from here.”

  “I hope so.” My voice sounds more strained than I’d anticipated. Cracks are appearing in my armor, and I know I won’t be able to be this strong forever.

  The edges of my fingers brush over my phone, and all I want to do is call Kit. I can’t, though. I pushed him away.

  Not for the first time, I wonder if that really was the right decision.

  After the papers are signed, we move the last of the furniture out of Nonna’s house and say a final goodbye. I squeeze my mother’s shoulder and hold back my tears, knowing this is the final step in a very difficult few months. When we close the door and hand the keys over to the agent, my mother starts to cry again.

  “I couldn’t have done this without you, Serena,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “You’re an angel. I’m sorry for pushing you to be with Angelo. I thought you needed a man to help you along, but I see how strong you really are.” Her eyebrows tug together. “Robbie told me about the teaching position in Woodvale that you gave up. I had no idea, Serena. You gave up an opportunity to stay back and take care of the family, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”

  Her words should make me feel better. I should feel validated, like I’m finally being seen. Even the fact that my mother recognizes the teaching position as an opportunity should make me feel better.

  It just feels like too little, too late.

  As my mother pulls away from me, a black Camaro stops on the curb. My stomach drops to my feet as a bitter taste coats my mouth.

  Angelo.

  He steps out of the car, grinning across the front lawn at us. A horrible feeling snakes through my heart. It ices my veins and roots me to the spot, reminding me of the decade I spent under Angelo’s thumb. He still has a hold on me, even after so long apart.

  The real estate agent makes a surprised noise, clearing her throat. “Mr. Berretti. I think there was a miscommunication. I was going to hand over the keys to your agent this afternoon.”

  …What?

  “No need,” Angelo says. “I’ll take them now.” His eyes are honey-brown now. Soft and triumphant and trained on me.

  “That’s not really…” the agent trails off when Angelo extends his hand. I watch her gulp, sensing the power and anger in the man who stands before her.

  I get it. I’ve been there. Hell, I’m there right now. My pulse is hammering so hard I’m sure he can hear it. My mother pulls away from me, spreading her arms toward Angelo.

  “Honey, come here,” she says. Honey?

  Angelo wraps my mother in a tight hug, still staring at me. I stand on my grandmother’s—or I guess Angelo’s—front porch, frozen. Afraid.

  Then, the reality of what’s happening crashes into me. “You…you bought this place?” I hate how much my voice trembles.

  “Baby,” Angelo says, backing away from my mother and taking a step toward me. I move backward, my heel hitting a step.

  “I’m not your baby.”

  “I bought this house for us. So it could stay in the family.” His voice is sugar-sweet. He’s laying it on thick, but I still see the menace swirling beneath the surface. I can feel it, like a thousand venomous snakes hissing under his saccharine words.

  “You what?” I frown, horror freezing me as Angelo advances.

  “He bought Nonna’s house, Serena,” my mother pipes in. “For you two to live in together.”

  My eyes widen as I break my gaze with Angelo to stare at my mother. “You knew?”

  “Angelo called me last night, before I signed the papers. Didn’t you, son?”

  “Son?” All I’m able to do is repeat words, scrambling to understand what the hell is going on.

  The mystery buyer who offered us five grand above asking with no conditions is Angelo fucking Berretti. The monster from my nightmares. The man who terrorized me for a decade. The man who blamed me for the loss of our baby.

  Angelo advances, his eyes dropping to my lips. I swear to God, if he tries to kiss me I’ll kick him in the balls. If I can get my legs to cooperate, that is.

  “I saw the listing for Nonna’s house, and it broke my heart,” Angelo says, his voice dropping to a rasp. The noise grates on my spirit, rattling my bones. “I knew I couldn’t let it go to a stranger,” he continues. His hand reaches toward me and I back away. “Serena, we could try again.”

  When Angelo’s eyes drop to my stomach, my blood turns to ice. Does he mean…?

  “I’d love a grandbaby,” my mother says behind him, her eyes wide.

  My breath is short and sharp. My heart hammers. Palms are clammy.

  She lied. All those pretty words about me being strong? About giving up opportunities? About being here for the family?

  They were all dirty, manipulative lies. She knew Angelo was the one who bought this house, and she accepted his offer anyway. She knew what he did to me. How he broke me. How I changed—and she still sold it to him.

  She wants me to have children with this monster! With the man who made me feel like I was nothing.

  There’s no blood pumping through my veins anymore, it’s just pure adrenaline. Adrenaline and fear—a lethal mix. I shake my head, holding up my hands. Angelo takes another step forward, threading his fingers between mine. I pull back, but he grips me harder.

  “This is how it should be, Serena,” he hisses. “You belong to me.”

  Not with me. To. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue, either. That’s exactly what Angelo means. He thinks I belong to him, body and soul, and this is his final move. Checkmate.

  Panic grips my throat. My heart is out of control. I try to pull my hand away, but Angelo holds me close. He wraps his other hand around my waist and I’m engulfed in the cloying scent of his cologne. My whole body screams. My mind is shutting down, and I can’t get enough breath in my lungs.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as disgust snakes its way through my stomach at Angelo’s touch. In my mind’s eye, the only thing I can see is Kit. I wish he were here to protect me.

  No, scratch that.

  I wish I were there. In Woodvale. On the other side of the country, tangled in Kit’s bedsheets. Living my life. Being my own person.

  A surge of strength wells up inside me, and I shove Angelo away with a roar. He stumbles back, eyes wide.

  “Serena—”

  “No.” I widen my stance, closing my hands into fists.

  “Honey,” my mother admonishes. “Be reasonable.”

  “No,” I repeat. “I won’t be reasonable. I won’t be a doormat. I. Will. Not. Be. Yours.” With every word, I point my finger at Angelo. I feel almost drunk with my own power, knowing my words are true. It’s not like a few months ago, when Angelo scared me so much he still had dominion over me.

  I’m different now. I’ve given everything up for my family, and all for what? For this? For a betrayal? All to realize that my mother doesn’t see me as a person at all. She doesn’t understand a healthy relationship. She doesn’t see that Angelo is nothing more than a predator.

  I won’t stay. I won’t lose myself to this pit of vipers.

  “Baby,” Angelo purrs, his eyes spitting fire.

  “Call me baby one more time, Angelo, I fucking dare you,” I spit the words, narrowing my eyes. My mother gasps, and I don’t give a damn.

  I’d love to kick him in the balls right now. Or punch him in the throat. Maybe poke his eyes out and watch him writhe on the floor. The strength of my hatred surprises me. It scares me, too. I stare into the blackness, knowing that if I take it th
at far, there’ll be no coming back.

  Instead, I think of Kit. Of his arms around me. His scent. How his touch feels like magic, and his kiss tastes like heaven.

  I was a better person when he was around. I had dreams and aspirations. I meditated and tried to make friends. I exercised every day and ate healthier than ever before—minus a pumpkin pie or two.

  That’s who I want to be. Not a violent, angry animal. Not someone who stoops to Angelo’s level.

  Dropping my shoulders, I shake my head. “I’m out of here.”

  “Serena!” my mother says, taking a few steps to follow me.

  “Find your own way home, Mother. I’m done.”

  31

  Kit

  Two weeks after Esme’s party, on my way back to Woodvale after four days of work, I stop in to see my little sister again. Finn and Esme are prepping their apartment for a St. Patrick’s Day party. Their home has become the hub where all our friends congregate if we’re not going to the Blue Cat Bar.

  It’s been about six weeks since I was in New Haven, and the ache in my chest hasn’t dulled. Whenever I get the urge to call Serena, I just think about what Angelo told me, and how it contradicts with what Serena had said.

  She does want kids, a family, a husband.

  Just not with me.

  There’s a dark cloud over me, and everyone sees it. Esme smiles at me, wrapping her arms around my body. “Hey, Kit.”

  “Hey.”

  She looks at my rumpled uniform, arching an eyebrow. “Came straight from the airport?”

  I nod. How can I tell her that being at my house reminds me of Serena? I hate being there alone, especially at night.

  But Esme seems to understand, even if I say nothing. She jerks her head to a box of green decorations. “Help me put these up. The party’s tomorrow, but I want to have them ready so that I can relax tomorrow morning.”

  I glance at the massive box of green hats, cups, garlands, wall decorations, and arch an eyebrow. “You sure you got enough?”

  Esme sighs, sticking a leprechaun to the wall. “I know. I wanted to get more, but Finn convinced me not to.”

  I grin. “I was kidding, Es.”

  “I wasn’t.” She levels me with a stare, then cracks a smile. “I want it to look like St. Patrick vommed all over this place. I even bought green beer.”

  Chuckling, I help her with one of the larger decorations. After an hour or so, I’ve gathered enough courage to head home. As I grab the doorknob, I feel Esme’s fingers on my arm. She tilts her head, staring up at my eyes.

  “I know how it feels, Kit.”

  “How what feels?”

  “Heartbreak. It’s how I felt when Finn and I were apart.”

  I didn’t know it was possible for me to feel like more of a jerk, but Esme succeeds with that sentence. How could I possibly have been mad at the two of them? How could I have been so blind to the love they share?

  But instead of feeling happy for my sister and my best friend, I just feel sorry for myself. I give her a tight smile, ruffling her head until she yelps and jerks away, then give her a wave and walk out. It’s only a short drive to my house, but I take a circuitous route through town to delay the inevitable cold, lonely home that awaits.

  When I finally get home, the lights are on. I frown. I have timers on the lights while I’m away, but this is far too early. Has daylight savings happened without me noticing?

  When I walk inside, though, I smell incense. My heart thumps so hard I can hardly hear anything else. I drop my bag by the door, shedding my jacket and tossing it on a hook. Movement catches my eye, and my whole body feels like it’s disintegrating.

  Serena.

  She’s here, in all her glory. Curly, black hair. Full lips. Olive skin that looks like it’s been kissed by the sun even after a long, dark winter. Cropped band T-shirt and little purple bellybutton piercing. She dangles a key over her index finger, giving me a hesitant smile.

  “I still had this from before. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I, uh…” Do I mind? No, of course not. But why…why is she here?

  Serena bites her lower lip, and my whole body feels like it’s letting out a groan. Did I think I was over her after just six weeks? Because I’m not. Even just standing there, doing nothing but sucking her lip between her teeth, she has me wrapped around her little finger.

  Her eyes flick to mine, brows drawing together. “I’m so sorry, Kit.”

  “For what?”

  That makes her laugh. She shakes her head. “For everything. For pushing you away. For basically breaking into your house while you were at work and waiting here like a freaking creep. For not telling you about my miscarriage. For thinking that life would be okay without you in it.”

  My heart skips a beat as her words sink in. There’s too much space between us. I kick off my shoes, taking a hesitant step across the cold tile floor. She wrings her hands in front of her stomach, playing with the spare key I gave her months ago.

  When Serena’s eyes flick up to mine, I know there will never be anyone else. Those deep, brown eyes will hold me captive until the day I die. She can fan her thick eyelashes over her cheeks and suck her lip between her teeth, and I’m her slave. She can break into my house whenever she wants to, and I’ll welcome her with open arms.

  I come to stand in front of her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. God, she smells good. Orange creamsicle. Sweet. Tangy. Delicious.

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I say, even though I’ve spent the last six weeks in my own special version of hell.

  Serena shakes her head, covering her face with her hands. “I do. I’ve been awful. Weak. Afraid. I’m not worthy of your forgiveness or your love, but I’m here to beg for it anyway.”

  An axe cleaves my heart in two. I close the distance between us, wrapping her in my embrace. She’s trembling, sniffling as I hold her against my body. Tentatively, Serena’s arms unfold and she wraps them around my waist. I take a hand, sliding it over her jaw, and tilt her face up to mine.

  “You are worthy, Serena. Worthy of everything you could possibly want. You deserve love and happiness. You deserve a man who loves you as hopelessly as I do. You deserve to have a career, and friends, and to not carry the world on your shoulders.”

  “I’ve been awful to you.”

  “You thought you were doing me a favor.”

  “I was stupid.”

  My chest constricts, and I shake my head. “So was I. I never should have walked away. I should have knocked down your door every day until you realized what I feel for you.”

  “I think I had to come to that realization on my own.” Her voice is small, yet strong. Crawling her fingers up my chest, she touches the lapels of my pilot’s uniform and runs the tip of her finger around the base of my neck. Her touch melts me in an instant. Flicking her eyes up to meet mine, Serena takes a deep breath. “Will you forgive me, Kit?”

  Chuckling, I let my forehead dip down to touch hers. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  With a shudder, Serena lets out a sigh, and the walls between us vanish. I tilt her chin with a finger and take her lips in mine. Kissing her is the sweetest joy. I want to savor every second of it. Remember this moment for the rest of my life. Etch it into my memory so it can never be erased.

  Serena trembles, her tears soaking her cheeks and mine as I hold her face and deepen the kiss. “Stop crying,” I say softly, kissing the tears that fall from her eyes. Salty, warm, and mine. Everything about her, I want. Her tears, her pain, her love.

  “I’m trying.” She snort-laughs. “I didn’t know what would happen when you came home. I was afraid—”

  “Never be afraid of what I’ll do,” I say. “I’ll never hurt you, Serena. Not if I can help it. I never want to make you feel like anything less than a goddess. An angel. My love.”

  Pulling away, Serena sucks in a breath. Her lips are swollen and glistening, and my body aches for more. But she puts a palm on my chest, lift
ing her eyes to mine.

  “I need to tell you about the miscarriage.”

  “It can wait,” I say, leaning down to kiss her neck.

  Serena shakes her head. “No. I want to tell you now.” Her eyes are serious, so I nod and gesture to the living room. She curls up on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her as I take a seat beside her. I put my arm around the back of the couch, letting my fingers drift over her back.

  Taking a deep breath, Serena looks at me. “I want to start this right, Kit, because it feels real. What I feel for you is stronger than I ever thought possible. I want you to know everything about me, so you can decide if you still”—Serena inhales sharply—“if you still feel the same way you did before.”

  “I do—”

  She shakes her head. “I have baggage. You need to know about it.”

  “I’m a pilot. I carry baggage for a living.”

  That earns me a smile, but Serena lets it drop. “I want to tell you.”

  My heart softens, and I let my fingers drift to the nape of her neck. “I’m listening.”

  32

  Serena

  I take a deep breath to gather my courage, not wanting to delay this any longer. I’ve kept this pain inside me for so long, and I need to tell Kit. He needs to know what he’s getting into with me, and he needs to understand that even if I do want to have kids with him—which I do, eventually—it might not happen. I’m not sure if my body works properly. I don’t know if I can give him the family he wants. Even if I can, it’ll be hard for me to get past my own fears.

  Even though I’m here, I still need time. I’m not ready to take things too far, too quick. I need him to understand that I’m still healing, and I don’t know what kind of snags will happen along the way.

  But as I meet Kit’s eye, seeing nothing but softness and love, my courage is bolstered. “I had a miscarriage six years ago,” I start.

  “Six years?” Kit frowns. “The way Angelo said it, it sounded like it just happened. I thought…”

  I shake my head. “We were young. I was really happy about it, but scared, obviously. Angelo was partying a lot. When I told him I was pregnant, he got angry.”