Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Do you want to talk about it?”
My eyes fly open, and I see Jake standing in front of me, hands tucked into his pockets, his head cocked to the side like I’m some puzzle he’s trying to figure out. For a moment, I can’t breathe. They all know. They can see right through me into the mess I’ve become.
My palms are sweaty against my thighs, and I have to look away from my brother’s too-perceptive gaze because, no, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to admit there’s an it to talk about.
“You know we don’t mean to upset you,” Jake says. “It’s just fun to tease you about Teagan.”
Oh, hell. My breath whooshes out in a rush. He’s not talking about the warehouse. He’s not talking about Max or my nightmares, or me avoiding my family. He’s talking about Teagan. About last night.
My relief is like the cool breeze that brushes the leaves off the trees and lets them start over. I’d love that—to have everything wiped away so I could start fresh, so I could feel like the person I was before I lost my best friend.
“What happened between you two last night?” Jake asks.
I shrug. “It really wasn’t anything.”
“You like her,” he says. “You’ve always liked her.”
Yeah. And if I’d heard her moans in my ear and had my hand between her legs before my life burned to ash in the warehouse fire, I’d have fought like hell to turn the chemistry between us into something more than I’m equipped to offer now. I shake my head. “We’re friends. I’m happy with that.”
Jake sinks into the chair beside me and stares out at the trees lining the back of the property. “I walked by the office while you two were”—he clears his throat—“in there.”
I hear the apology in his voice. I know my brother. He didn’t mean to spy, and he’s not totally comfortable nosing into my business, but he feels weird knowing there was more to last night than we’re letting on.
“So, I can pretend I didn’t see anything. That’s not a problem, and I won’t tell anyone.” He winces. “I mean, Ava already knows, but . . . if you want advice or to talk or something, I’m here.”
I cough. “Advice?”
“I do know something about having feelings for a friend.”
He and Ava might be the very best example of two people who were afraid to risk their friendship for something more but eventually made it work. Keyword being eventually.
“Teagan and I aren’t you and Ava.” I laugh softly. “God, you are a lucky sonofabitch, though. All those years of pining, and look at you now.”
“Don’t I know it.” His voice is thick with emotion. Fatherhood has softened him, leaving all those gooey emotional insides showing. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. And I don’t mean about your love life. I mean . . . I know you miss Max.”
Shit. Not off the hook like I hoped. “I’m coping,” I say.
“It was awful.”
“It’s part of the job.”
“Have you talked to anyone?”
“Bethany has been a good friend through this. She gets it, you know?”
He studies me for a beat, but I can’t tell if he’s about to call me on my “talks” with Bethany or if he’s trying to decide if he should insist I see a professional. “Good.” He nods—once, twice, three times. Like he’s trying to convince himself. He pokes my bicep. “You’re getting soft.”
“Just because I’m not working out with you doesn’t mean I’m not working out.”
He arches a brow. “Is the same true of eating? You’ve lost weight.”
“I’m fine.” I used to meet my brothers at the gym every morning I wasn’t on duty, but I haven’t returned to that old routine since the warehouse fire. There’s nothing appealing about the idea of hanging out with my brothers and trying to banter with them and pretend everything’s okay.
It’s something I should get back to. Maybe I will. Soon, I’ll make myself join them again. Just . . . not yet.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Myla: If I’d known you needed a fake girlfriend last night, I’d have gone to the fundraiser. Did Teagan keep you safe from the crazy ladies?
Well, at least Myla knows it was an act. Before I can reply, another text buzzes through.
Myla: Want me to come over tonight? I can bring beer and pizza . . . and my mouth, of course ;)
Jake snorts. “Shitty closer, my ass.”
I scowl at him and turn off my phone screen. “Don’t read over my shoulder, fuckface.”
“I didn’t mean to, but . . .” He shrugs.
“But what?”
“Like I said, I’m worried about you.”
I stiffen and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. “Why? Because I have a healthy sex life but no girlfriend?”