Devlin UnLeashed(21)

I shook my head, answering his question without looking back at him. Tyler was the only person who knew my whole story, the only person who knew me. I’d let him in, and not because I needed the help, but because years ago he’d saved me. He wasn’t just my confidant—he was my only family. The brother I never knew I had until the moment I needed him most.





Chapter Thirteen

Juliana

I woke to three messages from Trace and one from my dad. Claire was still keeping him at a distance, and apparently things got intense the night before. Trace was moving out, and judging by his tone in the messages, he was heartbroken.

After trying to reach Trace and failing, I sent my dad a text telling him I’d call him later and stepped out of Devlin’s kitchen onto the deck.

I’d been avoiding my dad’s calls for weeks. Being with Devlin made me want different things. I’d always been content following the path Dad paved for me, but the last few months with Devlin changed that.

Dad meant well. To him, taking care of me meant molding me into what he saw as a successful businesswoman who’d take over the family business and marry Nicholas Wainwright.

Nicholas was the son my father never had. As friends, Nicholas and I were great, but as a couple, we’d failed on so many levels. Dad was still constantly trying to push us together, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen, even if I decided to go home and work under Nicholas at Callahan Corporation.

The wooden planks under my bare feet were cold and slightly wet from the morning mist. The weather was getting warmer by the day, and my tree got prettier as it sprung to life in the spring weather.

Devlin’s backyard had acres of rolling green grass with lush foliage that I’d only ever witnessed in Home & Gardens Magazine. I sat out here way too often, my leg curled up under me on the cedar bench swing. There was a calm that settled over me when I sat out here. It reminded me of the garden my mother built behind our home when I was younger. While she was sick, we’d sit out there for hours, and after she was gone, I continued. It was bittersweet, but always made me feel close to her. And after leaving home for college, I’d missed that garden the most. I never realized how much until I started looking forward to my mornings out in Devlin’s garden as much as my nights with him in his bed.

The swish of the door and footsteps signaled Devlin’s presence. I glanced up at him from my spot on the bench, narrowing my eyes and holding a hand over my brows to block the bright rays of sun beaming behind him.

He wore a pair of loose gray sweats, a form-fitted white t-shirt, and hair wet and wavy from his recent shower. His arms were crossed over his chest as he eyed me. The tiny lift on the right side of his lips betrayed his happiness to find me still here. He walked over and sat down next to me, then surprised—no, totally amazed me by laying his head on my thigh. For several seconds, I stared at him, unable to believe he’d made such a positively intimate move. In bed, Devlin morphed into a sexually giving man, but outside of it, he was still so reserved. Intimate gestures were few and far between, so to me, this was huge. My heart pounded in my chest as he swirled his finger over the small bit of exposed skin on my belly.

“Good morning,” I said in a small whisper as if I were afraid I’d break the moment.

He reached up, caressing a tress of my hair between his thumb and forefinger, never looking me in the eye, and totally engrossed in the feel of my unruly morning hair between his fingers.

“I thought you left,” he confessed sadly.

Again. He was letting me see his vulnerable side, and I found it endearing and sexy.

“Not unless you want me to.”

He sat up, cupped my face, and stared into my eyes. An odd look of worry crossed his face, then he bizarrely blurted out, “Don’t let him come between us, okay?”

I studied at him, slowly running my hand through his short curls. “Who?”

I reached out, cautiously smoothing my hand over the short stubble growing across his jaw. His eyes were unfocused. He was looking directly at me but not seeing me at all. His weird questions and accusations happened so often that I had begun to worry.

He blinked a few times, then started counting in a whispered tone. After a few minutes, he pulled away and moved to the other side of the bench. “Sorry.”

He crouched over, his palms cradling his head. The silence stretched. I wasn’t sure what to say or if I should say anything.

“My dad was a psychopath.” His words cut through the silence so swiftly that it jolted me. Never did I imagine he’d ever mention his family. He was so guarded in that way. He lifted his head and glanced at me, his hair disheveled from the way he kept pulling at it.