by Max Henry
The same rubbish my mother would dote on me.
“Perhaps.” Tuck shrugs. “But no matter if you did or didn’t, that’s not what you need to focus on now.”
I get the truth.
“What should I do, then?”
And damn, it hurts.
“Show him the way out of this.”
TUCK
The pain on her face is palpable. With her hair pulled back in a thick ponytail, the temptation resides within me to give it a good tug and force her to look my way.
“Give him time to cool off,” I offer, closing the space between us. “And then go talk to him.”
“I should see where he went,” she replies absently, moving for the door.
My hand snaps out and fists her shirt before I give myself another chance to second-guess the motion. “Stay.”
Wide eyes meet mine, burning with a passion that—at this moment—is reserved solely for her brother. I get it; I love my brother too. But damn, is it so selfish of me to want some of that devotion for myself?
“I feel invincible at times,” Lacey murmurs, melting against me. “And then there are moments like these where I feel entirely helpless.”
My hand loosens in her shirt, the other sweeping around her waist to rest gently on her lower back. The curve of her butt teases the side of my little finger, itching a need to reach lower and test how she feels in my palm.
Now isn’t the time.
“You’re human, babe.” I dot a kiss to her forehead instead. “I learned this after Mum passed. The pain is unbearable, and so you do everything you can to avoid it. But if you let it roll through you like thunder, you’ll emerge brighter than if the storm consumes your every conscious thought.”
She leans back in my hold, brow pinched as her soft eyes search mine. “I’m so selfish, sometimes. I forget what you went through.”
“It’s not a competition,” I grumble, stopping her train of thought before it has time to gain traction.
“I know. But I wonder if I haven’t changed as much as Colt thinks I have.” Lacey tears away, pacing aimlessly across the room. “So much of the self-absorbed entitlement he fights still lives in me, too.” I miss her already.
“Of course, it does.” I scrub a palm over my head, missing the protection my hat provides when I’m this open and vulnerable. “You grew up being taught that was how you should be,” I explain. “Do you believe you can shake the habit in a week? A month? It’ll take time.”
“I guess.” Her throat bobs; gaze pinched as she stares at the floor. “It feels horrible, though.”
“What does?” I drop to the foot of the bed; hands slung between my jean-clad knees.
“Knowing how utterly awful I truly am.”
“For fuck’s sake.” My growl barely pierces the air, but her reaction is as though I shouted it to the heavens.
Lacey’s shoulders jump, eyes widening before she sets her eyebrows in a firm slash across her angelic features. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
Christ—women. “That’s not what I was grumbling about.”
She stabs her arms across her chest, hip popped.
“It annoys the heck out of me that you see yourself this way,” I say a bit softer. “Try to view yourself through my eyes.”
“I can’t do that, can I?” She rolls her baby-blues.
“What if I helped?” With an eyebrow cocked, I challenge her to hear me out, patting my knee.
She slides between my spread legs, thighs tight against the inside of my own. My body eases the moment her palms rest on my shoulders, testing the muscle.
“Strong,” I say, walking two fingers up her abdomen. “Caring.” I pause at her breastbone, sweeping underneath each luscious swell. “Honest.” Her expression hardens, so I slide my hand to her butt and tug her tighter against me. “Honest,” I repeat firmer. “Curious.” My gaze drops to her lush pink lips.
“How is being curious, good?” she whispers. “It killed the cat, remember?”
“Because it means you’re open to being proved wrong. That you’re interested in what other points of view there may be, and if there’s another way to do what you’ve always believed to be right. You’re humble enough to be flexible,” I stress, both palms gliding up the sides of her torso. “You care enough about other people to set aside your preconceptions for a chance at understanding theirs.”
“You do that, too, you know?” Lacey’s fingertips graze my lower lip; her focus zeroed on the movement.
I snare her pointer between my teeth and wrap my lips around the flesh.
“Tuck?”
“Mmm?” My tongue taps the tip.
“The door is open.”
Fuck. Her finger leaves my mouth with a reluctant growl. “I promised your dad.”
She grins, a gentle chuckle ghosting past her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t let me go when I returned to Riverbourne.”
“I didn’t know how to.” She tunnelled her way into my heart and made her home there. No matter where she went, her shadow would always remain, casting darkness over anything else that tried to occupy the void.
Palms carefully cradling the side of my head, she tucks her chin down to intensify her gaze. Thumbs stroke my cheekbones. The adoration in her eyes makes my goddamn dick hard. “I love you.”
Why the fuck can’t we be naked right now? The way she made me feel with three simple words—the only way I know how to respond is with action.
“Fuck yeah, you do.” I kiss her instead.
Hips grinding against my tense stomach, she clings to my neck, seeking connection in every possible way as I tilt my head and deepen our union. Her approach is gentle, measured, and careful—deliberate sweeps of her lips as she tastes the tip of my tongue, sucking my bottom lip between hers before starting again.
It isn’t enough.
Figuring it’s worth the risk, I lift her with me as I stand and then carry us toward the wall, out of the direct line of the hallway. Shadow casts the nook beside the set of drawers, the space partially obscured by the open door. It’s perfect as I hold her in place with a knee between those bare legs and cradle her head in my hands.
A delicate moan, the slightest rock of her hips. She pulls herself toward me as I take command of the kiss and show this fucking girl how goddamn special she is to me. I don’t care what she did to any of those arseholes at her old school. I don’t care what she did on social media in the name of approval from her peers.
We’ve all made mistakes, but this right here—this ain’t one.
Lacey’s breaths come fast and hard, my shirt hooked up over one hip where her hands have roved and sought out what she needs. I burn to tear the damn thing off and give her full access, but again, the fucking door.
Still, it’s not impossible to give her release without removing any clothes at all.
“I wish we were back in the forest,” she whispers against my lips. “Alone.”
I groan in the base of my throat, hand slipping to the back of her shorts. “Me too.”
Her lungs hitch, breath trapped as my palm slides past the waistband and over the flesh of Lacey’s round arse. My fingertips knead and massage their way around, the restriction of her clothing taut against my forearm as I dive deeper still to curl my palm between her legs.
“Oh, shit,” she pants, setting my veins on fire.
Cuss words never sounded so perfect as they do from her kiss swollen lips.
My index finger finds her heat first; the drenched depths jolt my cock between us. A purr vibrates in Lacey’s throat, her bottom lip pinched between pearly white teeth as her eyes drop to the obvious reaction in my jeans.
“Another time,” I force out, breathless from how bad I want in her, on her, everything.
Fingers stroking her folds, I tease her wider and meet her gaze as I slide a digit inside. I know she’s there with me, back in the forest the first time we did this.
Back when I knew she was it for me.
I don’t care
what baggage comes with this little spitfire, she belongs with me, and I’ll carry the load alongside her through this minefield called life.
“You have no idea how bad I wish my fingers were something else,” I whisper, forehead rested against hers.
She rocks her hips, seeking out deeper penetration. “Your tongue?” The sparkle in her eyes has me smile.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I add another digit, salivating at the thought of tasting what she offers.
“Say what you mean, cowboy.” A groan pierces the air, a little too loud for my liking.
I clamp my free hand over her mouth and lean in closer as my fingers increase in aggressiveness. Lips brushing her ear, I relish the shiver that wracks her body when I whisper, “I want to fuck the self-doubt right out of you.”
“Shit, Tuck.” Her eyes close, brow furrowed.
“You’re fucking perfect as you are, Lacey.” I curl my fingers just right. “Perfect for me.”
She shudders, her release slick on my hand as she comes apart on my leg. I seal my lips over hers, swallowing the moan that threatens to bust our little secret.
Right as her father’s voice carries down the hallway.
“I’m making a hot drink. You guys want one?”
Her eyes go wide, my hand sliding from her shorts. “Were we too loud?”
I stick the drenched fingers in my mouth and suck them clean before answering. “Only one way to find out.”
COLT
“Where are you?” Head bowed, I thread the fingers of my free hand through my hair.
“I’m with Christian.” Greer pauses. “Why?”
Because I need you, and I want you. Because you’ll ease this ache. “What the fuck are you doing with him?”
Silence falls over the line, yet I know she bristles at my question before she utters a single word. “Apparently, avoiding complications.”
I catch the timbre of his self-important voice in the background, yet I can’t quite pick the words. “What did he say?”
“He said you need to get your knickers out of a twist; I’m safe with him.” She snorts.
I’m glad she finds it funny. My little mouse is deep within the viper’s coil, and I’m too far away to be of any use. Fuck it.
“What’s happened, Colt?”
“Nothing.” I push off the hood of my car and pace across the driveway to the shade of a tree. “Will you be back tonight?”
“I’m uncertain at this point.” She exhales slowly, lowering her voice. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” A beat, and then, “Oh, shut-up,” directed at Christian.
“It’s too much to tell you over the phone,” I say honestly. “Come back tonight, and I’ll give you every melancholy detail.” Probably bore her half to tears and make the girl wonder why she bothered with me in the first place.
But at least the load will be lighter, and if I want to be of any use to my sister, I need to shake this fog and clear my head.
Her future is the one I care about, not mine.
“I’ll try, okay?”
The promise pulls me from my musings. “You better.”
“I worry about you, you know?”
“Yeah.” I swallow down the insidious need to break, to fall apart, and shatter into all my jagged and incomplete parts. “Call me back later and tell me what your plan is.”
“Of course.”
She disconnects, leaving me exactly where I was before I decided to risk the call to her number, unsure if she still had it: lonely.
My family—two-thirds of them, at least—stand within the walls of the cottage before me. But I don’t feel as though I belong. I sacrifice and swindle with their best interests at heart, and yet all I do with every rash action is distance myself further from their pure and generous hearts.
I’m so much my mother that it disgusts me to the point of wishing I could take a knife to my flesh and cut out the offending parts. Yet I know that once done, there would be fuck all left to salvage. Barely the scraps to complete a shell of a man, let alone rebuild me into something improved.
I’m better off embracing what I am, which is a transient piece in their puzzle.
Hands slung in my pockets, I pull a deep breath, my tongue wetting the dry skin on my bottom lip. We settle this: the dispute with Riverbourne. We set everyone in their rightful place, and then that’s my cue.
I leave.
Heaven knows where I’ll go, but as long as there isn’t a familiar face within miles, it’ll do. I need away from the ones I love as badly as I need to distance myself from those who keep me down.
Start again. Start over. Screw up people I don’t give a fuck about and keep it neutral.
And do it all with Greer at my side.
“Hey.”
I snap my gaze left to find Lacey rounding the front step toward my position.
“You okay?”
“Peachy, little sis.” Eyes heavy, I flash her my best smile.
She frowns, arms folded protectively over her. As though a simple gesture can shield her from the truth: she doesn’t know what to do with me.
Well, that makes two of us.
“This will pass,” she offers, positioned within arm’s reach beside me. “Don’t get too caught up in it.”
Only, unlike her, I’ll do it all again. “I suppose.” My wicked heart will crave the pain, the agony, and the bitter tang of victory.
I should change my surname to Fairchild and remove any last reference to our father. His name doesn’t deserve to get dragged down with me.
“What’s going on in there?” Lacey taps a gentle finger to my temple.
I catch her wrist before she can pull away and run my nose along the soft skin. “You smell like him.”
A rosy colour invades her cheeks. “As though you’re one to judge when it comes to intimacy.”
“I don’t try to hide it.”
She hooks an eyebrow. “Oh, really? You mean to say that Dad knows about all of your conquests?”
“No.” I shrug. “But I wouldn’t deny them, either.”
Her breath leaves on a whoosh as she smacks her back against the tree the same as I have. “Dating is easier for boys.”
“I never said I dated any of them.”
“Well, I’m not screwing around, so I have to call it something.”
I twist to face her, my shoulder propping me up. “A-ha. So, you haven’t fucked yet.”
“Don’t make me feel worse than I do, okay?”
I capture her chin between my fingers and coax her to look at me. “Is he pressuring you?” I swear to God, I’ll kill the bastard if he’s putting it on her.
“No!” Lacey jerks free, turning to face me. We’re almost face-to-face on the arc of the tree trunk. “That’s just it,” she whispers. “He’s so damn gentle.”
“And you don’t want him to be?” Now we’re discussing my domain.
“I feel as though I string him along.” She dips her chin to shield her eyes from me. “And I wonder if he’ll get bored of me.”
“For crying out loud,” I grumble. “If Tuck can’t wait, then he can fuck off.”
“Pardon?” Her lips kick up, as does her chin.
“If he truly cares, he’ll wait however long it takes to get to that point naturally.” I can’t believe I’m discussing my sister’s virginity with her. May as well hand over the condom and wish them the best. Christ. “Don’t force it, Lace. You’ll know when it’s time.”
She tilts her head to regard me carefully. “What was your first time like?”
I chuckle, turning my back to the tree again. “Terrible.” If I could go back and change it, I don’t know that I would. It meant I knew what to expect and how better to please the girl who first mattered. “And no, I’m not going into detail.”
She pokes her tongue out playfully. “I wouldn’t want you to.” Looping her arm through mine, my dot of a sister gives a gentle tug. “Come back inside.”
“I will.”
My gaze drifts to the Explorer, worse for wear after the last few months. “I need a drive.”
“Alone?”
I give her a hard stare. “Alone. Besides.” I jerk my chin toward the house. “You’ve got someone important waiting.”
“You’re important to me, Colt.”
Her sincerity leaves a knot in my chest and regrets in my heart. I should have done more to prevent her involvement in any of this. I could have sabotaged her rise through the ranks at Riverbourne, and I could have forewarned her about my connection to Arcadia.
But not only am I selfish, but we were equally as deluded as each other not that long ago.
We both thought our paths were set in stone.
Even rock has a melting point.
“Tell Dad I’ll be back by dinner.”
“Where are you going?”
I head for the car before she can change my mind. “To make amends.”
GREER
My heeled boots echo with every step across the hardwood floors. The old homestead is handsomely restored into boutique accommodation for those who have the wherewithal to pay the enormous fee.
The price of happiness.
I cast my gaze over another factual, yet uplifting, poster as Christian leads me toward the reception desk. Oak Grove, the sign at the gate read. No other hint as to what the place housed until we spilled out of his car and hesitated at the list of rules posted by the main entrance.
Visiting hours are to be strictly adhered to. No food or drink supplied to the residents. No gifts unless pre-approved by the staff. And no photos to be taken on-site, amongst many others.
“Good afternoon,” Christian greets in his perfectly practiced tone. “We’re here to visit Barrett Reed.”
My head snaps around, the interest I’d had in the steps to recovery posted on the flyer to my left, gone.
“He only has one visitor listed for today,” the middle-aged redhead behind the desk answers. “I’ll need to see ID before I can let in another.”
“Of course.” Christian nudges me in the side to snap me out of my stupor. “You have your purse, Greer?”
“It’s in the car.” I meet his seamlessly schooled gaze.