The Wayward Sister (Wayward Sons Book 5)

by Angel Lawson

  “What’s wrong?” his eyes skim over me.

  “My wrist.”

  I hold it up and he gently runs his fingers around the tender skin.

  “The shelf was probably too much weight on it. Can you bend it?”

  I test it. It moves, but a sharp pain shoots down my arm. “Yes.”

  “Let’s get some ice.”

  He doesn’t let go of my hand as he walks me to the kitchen. It’s not an intimate gesture, more like he’s making me keep it elevated. He leads me to the counter and in a swift, sudden move, he lifts me on the counter.

  He doesn’t speak as he grabs a clean rag out of the drawer and adds ice to the center. I stare at the lines of his back, at the muscles carved into his body. My eyes roam down, following the tapered angle of his waist, obsessing over the small indentions above his ass. His skin is very tan from so many hours outside. There’s a confidence that he carries—that all the guys carry. I sense that it comes from experiences they’ve had in nature and learning to survive; it’s made them trust their bodies.

  It’s incredibly attractive.

  The truth is that I've been desperately attracted to Smith since day one, and I’ve done my best to give him space. When he walks over with the ice pack and takes my wrist, pressing the cold against it, I can only think one thing; this is not space.

  “I’m just glad you were home. God knows how long I would have been stuck under there.”

  “It really did scare me,” he admits, blue eyes flicking up to mine. “I nearly broke my neck getting out of the shower.”

  “Is that why you didn’t manage to put on any clothes, or did you think Monica was still out here?”

  His face scrunches up in question. “Monica?”

  “The gorgeous realtor?” I roll my eyes. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see her. She was flirting hard.”

  “I saw her.” He shrugs his mountain-sized shoulders and continues to hold the ice against my skin. “She didn’t make a huge impression.”

  I snort. “Stop. She’s gorgeous and was totally into you.”

  “Are you trying to set me up with her or something? Do you think you’ll get a cut on the commission or something?” he eyes me skeptically.

  “What? No.” I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  We both stop talking. It never works when we do. Every step forward we make equals two steps back the next time we speak.

  “She’s not my type, if you want to really know.”

  “I would think Monica would be the type for anyone with a cock.” His eyebrow raises at the word, and that small grin that I find so deadly tugs at his lips. “What? Are you offended by my use of the word cock? Dick, maybe? Johnson? I lived with four teenage boys. I can make a complete list of what guys call their junk.”

  “See that’s the thing about you, Sierra. You can toss out the word cock and have no idea what it does to a guy. Just like how you walk around here all the time looking ridiculously, cluelessly hot.”

  I roll my eyes and glance down at my overalls. “These? They’re awful. I’ve been wearing these for three days.”

  “And driving me crazy for three, full days.”

  My heart somersaults in my chest. “You’re being stupid. I look like a fourteen-year-old boy lost in a junkyard.”

  He hovers over me, so very, very close. “Monica looks like she’s wasting her life in an office, earning money to support a wardrobe.” He stops in front of me. “You look like the woman someone wants to spend the rest of their life with.” He lifts his hand and grazes my cheek. “Don’t underestimate your appeal, Sierra.”

  “If I recall correctly,” I say with a tremble in my voice, “you didn’t find me appealing enough to kiss again.”

  Heat flickers in his eyes. “That may have been the dumbest decision of my life.”

  My insides quiver. “So, what? You’re ready to share some of that baggage with me?”

  He exhales slowly. “I think I’m ready to get rid of it all together, try carrying around something lighter. Easier. Someone who looks like a sexy junkyard worker and tosses around the word 'cock' like it’s nothing.”

  It feels like a swift turn around, but I know better. This low boil has been burning between us for months. He probably can smell the sex on me, the sex in the house, and his body is telling him it’s time to join in.

  I know that I should tell him about the others before this goes any further, but he’s made me woozy with the scent of soap and clean skin, with the gentle touch of his fingers on my wrist. I’ve waited months for a do-over on our failed kiss. When he bends toward me, I’m not willing to blow it. It may not be fair. It may not be right. But I’m not losing a second chance.

  Smith’s lips brush against mine, slow and tentative at first, giving me a chance to back out. It’s fair, he does basically have me trapped between his body and the cabinets. But I want this, too. I take my hand, cold from the ice, and run it down his neck, pulling him to me. That’s all it takes for him to deepen the kiss. His mouth is hot. His lips scalding.

  The first kiss we shared had been good. Great. It’s why I wallowed over it for months.

  The second one? It’s different, because he’s not holding back. He’s showing me how much he wants me, and I feel it in every inch of my body, all the way down to my toes.

  We’re both gasping for air when we part, chests heaving, breath shallow.

  “Wow,” he says, shivering when I thread my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “I never knew fourteen-year-old boys could kiss so good.”

  I laugh. “Gross.”

  “Thank you for giving me another shot.”

  “Thank you for taking it.”

  I know I should tell him about the guys. I know I should start this off on the right foot, but right now, I just want to feel his lips on mine and have a moment of peace before all the other shit barreling down at us.

  When he pulls me against his bare, damp body, that’s exactly what I do. Take that moment and kiss it as hard as I can.

  25

  Sierra

  “I think we need to have a discussion,” I say, cornering Holden and Adrian in Dex’s old bedroom. “Before things go too far.”

  Adrian tugs a clean shirt over his head, giving me a quick view of his body. Now is not the time, Sierra…

  “What are you talking about?” Holden asks from the desk chair.

  I run my fingers over the bandage on my wrist. “I kissed Smith. Or really, he kissed me. We kissed, and I didn’t tell him that we’d kissed.”

  Adrian breaks into a wide grin. “Really? He finally did it?”

  I nod, feeling sick to my stomach. It’d taken me and Smith weeks—months, really--to get to this place. I didn’t know how to go forward.

  “We should just tell him,” Holden says. “We’re adults and we’ve chosen an unconventional relationship. He can make his own decision.”

  “What if he gets mad or says no?”

  Adrian frowns. “He won’t get mad at you, Sierra.” He glances at Holden. “At us? Possibly. You? I don’t think so.”

  I grimace. “Why is this so awkward?”

  “Because there are three dicks involved and sharing isn’t very common.”

  “That’s not helpful,” I tell Adrian. “But you’re probably right.”

  “We can all tell him,” Holden suggests.

  “No. It needs to come from me. He can make the choice without any pressure.”

  “Are you going to ask him while you’re naked or wearing clothes?” Adrian asks.

  “Does that matter?”

  Holden nods. “Definitely. If you’re naked he’s not going to be in his right mind. He’d agree to anything.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s ridiculous.”

  The expression on their faces tell me it’s not.

  Shit.

  There goes Plan A.

  Holden has night duty again, and he reluctantly accepts that I’m not coming by to help him stay awake. I’m going
to take the opportunity to talk to Smith. Alone. If he’s mad, he’s mad, but it’s better than lying.

  Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as I stand outside his room. Adrian gives me a kiss, whispering a quiet, “Good luck. For the record, you’re probably still wearing too many clothes.”

  “I’m in a hoodie. And wool socks.”

  “And fucking sexy as hell.”

  “Stooooooop.”

  He smiles wickedly and vanishes into his room. I take a deep, steadying breath and knock on Smith’s door. He calls out and I open the door. Holden’s side of the room is tidy, the bed made, and his backpack tossed on the middle. I’m a little surprised to find Smith lying on the bed shirtless and in shorts, reading a book. I’m definitely surprised to see the black, square-framed glasses perched on his face.

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

  “Just to read.”

  “They’re pretty sexy.”

  He lifts a dark eyebrow.

  I shut the door behind me and the lock clicks. He places the book on the side table and I glance around the room. My mother painted it lavender when I was twelve. We never changed it even when my interests and tastes changed. Pin holes signify where I’d put my most cherished photos of Sam and Dean Winchester, torn from fan magazines long ago. The dresser still holds a few trinkets, an old jewelry box filled with strange mementos that I can’t really remember what they were about. Ticket stubs, dried flower petals. Everything is old and brittle—from another time and place—including the purple-checked bedspread underneath Smith’s body.

  “My thirteen-year-old self would be pretty freaked out right now to know a man is in my bed.”

  “What about your twenty-three-year-old self?”

  “Ah,” I say, leaning against the white dresser, “that’s a different situation. Part of me wants to show the teenage me exactly how far I’ve come.”

  “And the other part?”

  “Needs to tell you something,” I admit. “And I’m nervous.”

  He frowns. “Okay.”

  The fear I have comes from wondering what happens if he says no. If he tells me to leave. Do the others go, too? Is this all over before it really began? I ignore the ticking clock in the back of my mind, the one saying this is a short-term thing anyway.

  I shove all of that aside. “If I were talking to Dexter right now, or any of the other guys, I would tell them that if they aren’t mature enough to have this conversation, they aren’t mature enough to be in the situation.”

  He blinks. “I can get behind, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I like you, Smith. A lot.”

  “I like you, too.”

  My hands grip the edge of the dresser. “I also like Holden. And Adrian.” I swallow. “As much as I like you.”

  I hold his blue eyes and wait as the reality of what I’ve just admitted sinks in. It takes a second—but not much more. “You like all of us.”

  “Yes, and it’s important for me to be honest, I should have said something earlier, before we kissed. I just…it was unexpected, and we’d been tip-toeing around it for so long.”

  He takes a deep breath and takes off his adorable glasses to rub his eyes. “Have you…”

  “I’ve kissed them both,” I blurt, wanting it out there. “And…I’ve slept with Adrian. And been intimate with Holden.”

  He swears, jaw clenching. “We agreed not to hit on you.”

  “It was me as much as them, if not more so.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Sierra, or what I’m supposed to do.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  His eyes skim my face. “I want to kiss you. Make love to you. Hear my name on those lips.”

  My heart thunders. “We can do those things.”

  “But…” His hands run through his hair.

  “But what?”

  “But I’m also selfish. Greedy. I’m not going to lie, I want you for myself. Sharing you, even with people I care about, isn’t something I can do.”

  “I understand.” My voice is weak, and I blink back tears. “I’m sorry I let this go this far.”

  I move, ready to get out of the room, away from his pained expression and beautiful face. I can’t get out of there fast enough, jerking open the door and stumbling into the darkened hall. I don’t go back to my room; instead, I walk through the living room searching for my shoes.

  Holden walks out of laundry room with an armful of clean clothes, as I slip on my hiking sandals. I spot my keys on the dining room table and grab them.

  A line of concern slashes his forehead. “What happened?”

  “I made an ass of myself. Again.” I blink back tears. “I need to get out of here.”

  “Let me come with you.”

  “No, I need a little space to think.” I give him a tight smile. “I won’t stay out long.”

  “Be careful,” he says.

  I walk out the door and take a deep breath. The night is warm—at least for the mountains. I’ve started the car and driven halfway down the dirt road before I realize I have no idea where I’m going. I idle at a stop sign and pick up my phone.

  Sierra: I fucked up.

  Katie: You are fucked up or you actually fucked up?

  Sierra: I screwed up—with the guys—big time.

  Katie: I doubt that.

  Sierra: You don’t know what I’ve done.

  Katie: Meet me? At Wooly’s?

  It’s a bar in Mammoth Lake.

  Sierra: On my way

  Wooly’s is loud and I’m just thankful I don’t recognize anyone inside. It’s two blocks from my high school and some nights it’s like a class reunion. I find an empty table out on the deck that overlooks the lake and get the feeling most everyone here is a tourist.

  I’ve already ordered two beers by the time Katie shows up. While it looks like she dressed in a hurry, she still looks more put together than I did. That’s the difference between rushing out of the house and running. My hoodie, leggings, and messy hair are the result of a girl on the run.

  It’s a hard habit to break.

  I don’t even give her a chance to say anything before I look around the deck and say in a low voice, “Remember how I told you that I had cake with Adrian?"

  “Cake?” She frowns. “Oh, right cake.”

  “Well, I had uh, a cupcake with Holden, too.”

  Her eyes widen, and she slowly eases into her chair. “Okay, I mean, that’s a lot of sugar, but not the worst thing, you know, if all the cakes know they’re being…eaten.”

  “Right. Completely consensual, aware cake eating.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Earlier today, I ate some frosting with Smith.”

  She takes a large gulp of beer. “Frosting.”

  “Yes. It was impulsive, but not a huge deal. I mean, it is a big deal because the last time Smith and I shared frosting, I screwed up everything. It looks like that may be the case again.”

  She frowns, trying to follow my strange analogies.

  “So, he didn’t like the frosting?”

  “Oh, he liked it, he just didn’t like the fact I’d eaten a cupcake and had some cake.” I look down at the table. “And when I went to tell him about how gluttonous I’d been, he made it pretty clear he did not believe in mixing up desserts like that and wanted no part of it.”

  Katie thinks for a moment. “So what you’re telling me, is that you wanted all the cake.”

  “Yep.”

  “Three slices?”

  “Yep.”

  “All at once?”

  God, I’m not sure I could handle that.

  “No, not all at once, but like,” I search for the words, “maybe one piece a day, or two.”

  “And all the pieces would be aware of one another.”

  I take a sip of beer. “Yep.”

  “And the cake and the cupcake are into this, but the frosting, he’s not.”

  “Nope.
The frosting made it very clear that although I got a taste of him, he is not willing to let me try the full piece.”

  Katie stares at me for a minute. “This analogy is bananas, you know that, right?”

  “I know that I’ve got a problem. A cake problem, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “Well, it looks like the baker just showed up. You may want to talk to him about it.”

  I frown. “The baker?”

  A figure hovers over the table. I look up and see Smith. My cheeks turn red from embarrassment.

  “Hey, Katie,” he says, eyes focused on me. “Can Sierra and I have a minute?”

  “Yep.” She grabs her glass and stands. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right over…” she looks around and spots a seat at the bar, “there.”

  He takes Katie’s empty chair.

  “I’m sorry about earlier. I just hope this doesn’t ruin the little bit of progress we’ve made in our relationship. Or totally fuck up your friendship.” I can’t stop talking. “It was dumb to think this could work, you know? You said you’re greedy, but really, I’m the greedy one. I’m not even satisfied with one amazing guy. I need three. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing,” he says. “That’s the problem, Sierra, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to finish in there,” he says, the sharp angles of his face highlighted in the moonlight. “I am greedy. I’m totally selfish. And seriously, I don’t like to share, but that stubbornness is something I’m working on.”

  “Is that like, one of your rules?”

  “I’m learning when it comes to you, none of my rules seem to stick.”

  “You know Adrian says we’re too alike.”

  “Don’t tell him, because it’ll totally go to his head, but Adrian is usually right.”

  I giggle at his admission, a lightness filling my chest. He smiles and it’s amazing, brightening his whole expression.

  “So, what does this mean?”

  “It means that I’m not ready to let you go. That I’m willing to explore what you’ve suggested.”

  “It won’t ruin your friendship with Holden and Adrian?”