by Shayla Black
Brea smiled. “Is there any other kind?”
“Not in my book.”
“So you really are a southern girl. Please, sit.” Brea waved her to a little round table just outside the kitchen as she headed for the refrigerator. It was simple and clean, just like the rest of the place. A smattering of Christmas decorations added cheer. “I just made a pitcher for Cutter before lunch, so the tea is fresh.”
Shealyn slid into a chair, more confused than ever. Brea lived here with him? Of course she did, and Shealyn felt like an idiot for not realizing that. They were getting married. They were likely sharing a bed. Why wouldn’t they be sharing a roof?
“Thank you,” Shealyn said as Brea set a glass and a coaster in front of her, noticing that her ring finger was naked. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Brea didn’t wear her jewelry all the time.
The woman slid into the nearest chair, tucked one foot under her thigh, and leaned across the table. “You’re welcome. I wish I could have some, too. But too much caffeine and sugar isn’t good for the baby.”
Her sigh sounded almost dramatic, and Shealyn wondered if Brea meant those words as a verbal KEEP OUT sign.
“Congratulations. You and Cutter must be very excited. I’m happy for you two.”
Brea cocked her head. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
The brunette rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her slight chest. “Of course he didn’t. That stubborn, stubborn man. Ugh! You don’t know why he and I are planning on getting married, do you?”
At the question, Shealyn sat back. Was Brea going to tell her what Cutter had tried to? “It’s not because you love each other and are excited about your coming baby?”
“Would a man madly in love with a woman and looking forward to starting a family with her give his heart to someone else?” Brea scowled. “Scratch that. Some men might. Would Cutter do that?”
Shealyn didn’t have to think. “I can’t reconcile that in my head. No.”
“Never. He stood next to my daddy the day I was born. He’s the big brother I never had. It’s a long story, but when I got pregnant, Cutter blamed himself because I met my baby’s father while trying to help him escape a hostage situation.”
Shealyn blinked, fighting a guilty relief at Brea’s words. “So the baby isn’t Cutter’s?”
“Heavens, no. We’ve never . . .” The woman shook her head. “Ever. He really is like a brother to me. Anyway, I worked up the gumption to see a doctor right before Cutter went out to California. When we found out for sure I was pregnant, he proposed so I wouldn’t have to face my daddy—he’s the local preacher—and admit my sin as a fallen woman. I’m sure that sounds silly in this day and age.”
So Maggie had been right. “No. I’m from a small town, too.”
Brea smiled. “So you understand why the thought of everyone knowing I conceived out of wedlock terrified me. Heck, I’m more than a little afraid of the man who got me pregnant, too. Pierce is . . . overwhelming. Cutter keeps threatening to kill him, but it’s my fault. I know I need to face him and my father—”
“So . . . Cutter offered to sacrifice his future for you?”
“Exactly.”
At Brea’s words, Shealyn felt as if she could finally breathe again. For the first time in weeks she took a deep breath and didn’t feel like choking or crying or breaking down. “My question sounded rude. I-I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s the truth. And I was such a coward that I agreed to let him. Even now, I’m hiding. I told my daddy I was going to a Christmas party with Cutter so I wouldn’t have to face his disapproval tonight. But I backed out of going to Dallas for the shindig and asked Cutter to lie for me because I’m almost certain Pierce will be there. Now, I’m ashamed.” Tears welled in her big dark eyes.
They had both done things they weren’t proud of. Shealyn understood that sisterhood.
Shealyn reached across the table and took Brea’s hand in hers. “I’m sure he understands.”
“It’s Cutter, so of course he does.” She sniffled. “But I should tan his hide for not explaining our ‘engagement’ the moment he realized he was in love with you. I shouldn’t be surprised he didn’t, though. He wouldn’t have spilled my secret to anyone without a—pardon my French—damn good reason. He would never have put his own happiness above my fears.” She huffed. “I’m going to have some words with that man.”
Shealyn wished she could, too. She wished she’d known all this information weeks ago, when she and Cutter had been exchanging bodies and souls, and she’d been hoping she had a future worth looking forward to. But she hadn’t listened when he had tried to explain, and the fault for that lay squarely with her. He had wanted her to believe in him, and she hadn’t. Her only excuse was that a childhood of mistrust, of believing that people were inherently selfish, hadn’t prepared her to accept anyone as noble or self-sacrificing as Cutter.
“Thank you for explaining everything. It’s none of my business, and I hate to barge in or ruin your plans . . .”
“Do you love Cutter?” Brea asked, her gaze solemn.
“With all my heart.”
The woman broke out in a big smile. “Then you just muck up every last plan I’ve made. I could never make him happy, but you could. And no one deserves it more. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder about being the town drunk’s kid. But he’s so much more than that.”
“Except for my grandfather, Cutter is the best man I’ve ever met. You really don’t mind if I steal him from you?”
“So you can make my best friend ecstatically happy?” She shook her head. “Goodness, no. My life has gone to heck in a handbasket, but that’s my own doing. I’m twenty-two now. I’m not a little girl anymore. It’s time I stop acting like one. Face my daddy. Face Pierce. Figure out what I want to do with my life next. But I can’t tie Cutter down. Just . . . if you’re going to take him back to California, let him visit here every so often. My baby will need his uncle.”
Brea seemed so determined and pleased with her new direction, Shealyn didn’t have the heart to tell the woman that Cutter might take one look at her and tell her to go to hell. Instead, she merely smiled. “Of course. I’d never try to keep him from seeing you. And I’m sure—”
The jiggling of the lock behind Shealyn startled her. She forgot whatever she’d been about to say as she rose and turned for the door as it whipped open.
Cutter walked in, keys in hand. Shealyn’s heart started pounding as he took a step in and looked up. Their eyes locked.
He stopped midstride. “What are you doing here?”
* * *
—
Nothing like having a Christmas party ruined by an asshole.
Cutter had been making the rounds and saying good-bye to everyone at the Mackenzie-Thorpe trio’s holiday gathering so he could start the long drive back to Lafayette from Dallas.
Before he could make a clean break, Karis, Jolie Powell’s little sister and his good friend, had grabbed his arm and asked him to stay. “If you leave, I’m the only other sad sack single in the place. Please . . .”
“You’re going to be fine, little gypsy,” he assured, kissing her forehead.
And that’s when it happened. In the middle of Callie Mackenzie’s posh kitchen, robust conversations fell to whispers, then died to a sudden hush. Cutter turned to investigate.
Why the fuck had One-Mile come?
The guy wore combat boots and a sneer. As usual, those dead, dark eyes gave away nothing as he scanned the crowd. Their stares clashed. Cutter’s fingers curled into fists. Hate blasted at him from across the kitchen. He returned it in silent but full force.
“Whoa,” Stone Sutter, hacker extraordinaire, muttered under his breath.
As if sensing the rising tension, Logan’s wife, Tara, grabbed Callie by the hand. Together
, the two of them led the sniper to the far side of the room. Cutter turned away.
Now that Pierce Walker was here, he definitely intended to leave. Callie Mackenzie had invited him to celebrate the holidays, not commit murder on her kitchen floor. If he stayed, that’s what would happen. Brea deserved to be avenged but not now. Not here. Not like this. But when he and One-Mile were alone, just man to asshole, without witnesses to see the ugly aftermath? Oh, yeah . . .
“I’ll catch y’all later. Merry Christmas.” He nodded at everyone huddled around Callie’s kitchen table, then snagged the attention of her husband, Sean. “Thanks for everything. I had a great time.”
“Can you stay for three more minutes? Callie hosted this party for a reason.”
Cutter sighed. The woman had been nothing but gracious. Nearly everyone in this room had been. He could temporary shelve his animosity. He hoped. “Sure.”
Callie gave a heartfelt speech about everyone in the room being a member of the family the Mackenzie-Thorpe trio had chosen. It was sweet and inclusive and made him truly feel as if he belonged among his bosses and their friends. They were all good people.
“Hear, hear!” The party guests raised their glasses before hugs began all around.
Cutter found himself wrapped up in more than one feminine grasp, just before a husband would land a hearty slap on his back. The joy in the room was palpable and contagious.
He shared another few sips with the small crowd and enjoyed their conversation, humbled by the acceptance and love in the room. Mama, Cage, and Brea had been the only people he’d considered family for so long. After the long, bleak month following his return from California, it felt nice to genuinely smile again. He would be happier with Shealyn at his side, but that was never going to happen, so he needed to start counting the blessings he had.
Then Pierce Walker filled the line of his vision across the room again, a giant shadow of shitty.
Heath Powell must have sensed the tension and grabbed his arm. “Let it go.”
Never. “Sure. I’ve got to leave anyway. Great to see you, man. Let’s get together soon.”
The Brit nodded but he clearly wasn’t fooled. “You have my number.”
Cutter shook his hand, hugged Jolie and Karis, brushed a kiss across Callie’s cheek, then headed out of the kitchen, down the long hallway, and straight for the exit.
The sound of combat boots clomped behind him. “Hey, fucker! You’re not marrying Brea.”
Cutter ignored One-Mile and slammed the front door between them. Not for a second did he think this shit was over. But for now, he was determined to ignore One-Mile and focus on the holiday spirit, the new, extended family he’d surprisingly been adopted into . . . and some way to hopefully untangle his life. He’d been a miserable failure at that so far.
After climbing into his pickup, Cutter peeled away from the curb. Pierce chased him down the sidewalk as Cutter drove into the night, headed back to Lafayette.
More than five silent hours was a long time to contemplate life. Seeing everyone at the party tonight, looking committed and happy, celebrating newborns or awaiting new bundles of joy, made a man think.
As the miles passed and the hour grew late, he came to two inescapable conclusions that had been nagging at him for weeks. Accepting both truths had come hard. They required him to make some difficult decisions. Acting on those would be even trickier.
Cutter sighed. He needed a goddamn sounding board.
He hesitated a moment, then hit the speed dial button on his phone. Cage picked up on the second ring.
“What’s up, little brother?”
“What are you doing?”
“Just getting off work. Heading out to crash at Mama’s for a couple of days. You?”
“Leaving a Christmas party. Oh, and I got invited to a New Year’s shindig. I think you should come with me.”
Karis’s little plea about being the only sad-sack single in the place rolled through Cutter’s head. “There’s someone I think you should meet . . .”
Cage hesitated, then sighed. “I’m not working that night, and I don’t have any other plans. Why the hell not?”
“Great. So . . . um, I called for sage advice, but since I can only reach you at this hour, I guess I’ll listen to whatever you have to say,” Cutter teased.
“Ha fucking ha . . . I give great advice. You’re just the dipshit little brother who usually doesn’t take it.”
“You once told me to put a firecracker in my mouth and wait for it to go off,” Cutter pointed out.
“I was six. You’re terrible at letting go of shit, you know that?”
Cutter paused. “Yeah, I do. That’s part of the reason I’m calling. I think hanging on to the past is one of the reasons I’ve made a mess of my life and . . . I need to fix it.”
“Oh, hallelujah!” Cage groaned. “Tell me what’s been bugging you. Because watching you mope for the past month has been torture.”
“Believe me, experiencing it has been worse,” he scoffed. “Just before I flew out to California, you told me that I kept trying to make up for our father’s behavior and, no matter what I did, that was impossible.”
“I remember. You dismissed me.”
“Yeah. After everything went to hell in L.A. and I came home, I started really thinking about what you said.”
“Go on.”
“You were right.” Trying to be everything to everyone in Sunset hadn’t rectified his father’s mistakes. Instead, most people had already forgotten them. The only place the man’s misdeeds still mattered was in Cutter’s mind. To the rest of the folks in Sunset, the younger Bryant brother was a friend, caretaker, and helpmate. He was his own man. But he’d created a codependent cycle between himself and a handful of others, especially the woman he thought of as a sister. “I can’t marry Brea.”
“Nope. You can’t.”
“Otherwise, I’ll just continue to enable her in dodging her fears and her future. She’ll never become the independent woman I know she yearns to be. She’ll never find someone she actually loves.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Gosh, you almost sound smart.”
Cutter snorted at that. “To be clear, One-Mile, that fucking rapist, still isn’t coming within ten feet of her.”
“If you’re really sure he forced her to have sex, I’ll help you enforce that. Hell, I’ll help you get him arrested.”
“Thanks, bro.”
“Of course. She’s like a sister to me, too.”
She was, and Cutter was happy for the backup.
“I’ll offer her all the childcare and hand-holding I can manage.” Though Cutter still liked to be needed, and that wasn’t likely to change, he only wanted one person to lean on him now. “But I can’t be any sort of husband to her when my heart belongs to someone else.”
“I don’t see how.” His brother hesitated, as if he hated to bring up a sore subject. “Have you tried reaching out to Shealyn?”
“I don’t even know if she’d talk to me.”
“You don’t know that she wouldn’t.”
“No,” Cutter conceded. “But when I left, I was . . . pretty final. I think the insecurity about being good-time Rod’s son got to me and I demanded perfect trust from a woman who was let down in the worst way as a child. Then I blamed her for not understanding.”
“Ouch. Are you an idiot on purpose?”
“You’re not helping . . .”
Cage let the jibe go. “Can you call her? Go out there to see her?”
“From what I can tell, her sister backed out of her wedding at the last minute, then she and Shealyn took a trip together. The speculation is they’ve been out of the country, but who knows what’s really true?”
“Look at you, getting all People magazine.”
Cutter had certainly never made a habit
of reading celebrity gossip in the past, but over the last few weeks he’d been scouring the Internet for news about the woman he still loved.
“I don’t know. Isn’t there one called Go Fuck Yourself?”
Cage burst out laughing. “Okay, sorry. I’ll stop ribbing you.”
“That would be great.” Cutter sighed. “Honestly, this hurts like hell.”
His older brother sobered. “I can tell every time I talk to you. Sorry my attempts at levity suck. So what are you going to do?”
Wasn’t that a great question? “As soon as she returns to the States, I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her I’m sorry. I’ll tell her I love her. And . . . I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Makes sense to me. Sounds simple.”
Cutter chuffed. “Maybe too simple. I don’t know why it took a month for me to realize that.”
“You’re stubborn. You have your pride. You wanted her to believe in you.”
His brother knew him too well. “Yeah. But I had to face the fact that I’d been stupid and selfish. I have to ditch that chip on my shoulder. If I’m really going to love her, I have to put her needs first. And until now, I haven’t always.”
“I can’t tease you for that when you’re right. As it happens, you have a chance to put your money where your mouth is. My partner’s wife is really into that gossip shit. She tries to pump me constantly for information about what really happened between you and Shealyn.”
Cutter had been dodging the circling reporters since leaving California. It had been overwhelming the first few days. After the second week, it had finally slacked off. Now, he hadn’t seen one in days. Thank goodness.
“You haven’t told her, have you?”
“My lips are sealed. But this evening she told me that TMZ reported multiple sightings of Shealyn strolling through Dallas–Fort Worth International Airport just hours ago. Apparently she boarded another flight tonight. I’m guessing she’s home now.”
“Then . . . I’ll hop on the first plane out tomorrow.” Cutter’s head was already racing. He’d go back to his place and toss some clothes in a duffel. Since he’d rescinded his resignation, he’d have to call one of his bosses on his way to the airport and tell them he was leaving for at least a few days. It might take him that long to get close to Shealyn and persuade her to talk to him. But he would not live another day without telling her that he was sorry and that he loved her madly.