Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“River,” he said, my name sounding different somehow in his mouth, weighted with meaning. “What if I told you that you don’t ever have to choose?”
I blinked, not comprehending. “Choose what?”
“Between us.” His voice was steady, matter of fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than something that made my heart stutter in my chest. “What if I told you that you could have both of us? Always. You’d have the two of us putting you first. Above even each other because you’re ours to protect. Which means, we work together to keep you safe and happy.”
The words hung in the air, impossible to misinterpret. I froze, my body going completely still as my mind raced to process what he was suggesting. My lips parted, but no sound emerged. I couldn’t have spoken if my life depended on it. My heart raced with a kind of terror reserved for the slasher films of the eighties. And, oh my God, as much as I wanted to close my eyes against the carnage about to ensue to my heart, I sat there transfixed in horrified fascination as I watched the emotional trainwreck about to happen in my near future.
Crush was watching me closely, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “Breathe, River,” he said quietly.
I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out in a rush. “You can’t be serious,” I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
“We don’t joke about this,” Byte said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Not with you. Ever. This is as serious as it gets.”
My gaze darted between them, searching for any sign of mockery or manipulation. Finding none, I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the fire’s warmth. “Why would you… I don’t understand.” I had a moment to wonder if they thought I was opposed to the situation they were proposing or even repulsed by it, but I was too stunned to give it more than a passing thought. In my wildest imagination, this situation didn’t even make the top fifty. OK, that’s a lie. It was in the top three. But at the bottom because there was no way actually being with the two of them at the same time was a real possibility other than for casual sex. Mrs. Walsh would definitely not approve of casual sex with her beloved grandsons and, OMG, why did I have to think about Mrs. Walsh at a time like this?
The brothers exchanged another of those silent looks, a whole conversation compressed into a glance. After a moment, Crush nodded slightly, as if giving permission. “We lost our parents when we were kids,” Byte began, his voice taking on a detached quality that couldn’t quite mask the pain beneath. “We were in grade school. They stopped at a convenience store on their way home one night. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“There was a robbery,” Crush continued, his deep voice taking over the narrative. “Three men with guns. Our dad always stressed to us that a man takes care of the women in his life. Protects them. No matter what.” His hands resting on the table slowly curled into fists as he spoke. I watched his knuckles whiten, a physical manifestation of a decades’ old grief. “Years later, when we were teenagers, Maggie told us what really happened that night.” Crush’s voice dropped lower, rougher. “Our father fought them. With everything he had. But it was three against one. And they were all armed. Our dad wasn’t.” The flames popped and hissed in the silence that followed, shadows dancing across Crush’s face, highlighting the hard angles of his jaw, the furrow between his brows.
“They killed Mom first,” Byte picked up the thread, his voice eerily calm. “Made our father watch. Then they killed him too.”
I felt tears spring to my eyes, unbidden. For these men, for the boys they’d been, for the parents they’d lost. For Maggie. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, knowing how inadequate the words were.
Crush nodded, acknowledging my sympathy without really accepting it. “Maggie raised us after that. Taught us everything we could coax from her. How to fight. How to think. How to survive.”
“How to protect,” Byte added.
I remembered what Crush had said about their grandmother being CIA, about the skills they’d learned, and suddenly it all made a terrible kind of sense. They hadn’t just been orphaned. They’d been forged.
“We made a pact,” Crush continued, his fists still clenched tight. “As boys, after Maggie told us. We decided that when we grew up, we would train to kill and protect. That we’d never let what happened to our mother happen to anyone we loved.”
“And we decided we’d find a woman -- one woman -- who we both loved, and we’d both marry her.” Byte’s gaze was intent and very, very serious.