“I hate you.”
“You going to stand still?”
Chest heaving and heart pounding, I realized Deck had watched me destroy everything in my room. He never did anything to stop it. The one thing I did know about this man was that he was unbending. Connor always said Deck was the best team leader, because no matter what shit went down, Deck would never yield to anyone. He’d stand by his word no matter what, and I guessed he wouldn’t let me go until I bent to his will.
I stopped fighting.
He waited a second then released me. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book with worn edges and a cracked spine. “He’d want you to have this.”
I didn’t move as I stared at what I knew was Connor’s journal. Deck grabbed my wrist and shoved it in my hand, the hard surface abruptly hitting my palm.
Connor’s name was written on the top in his familiar, messy handwriting.
I nearly fell, and probably would’ve if Deck hadn’t grabbed my arm. He guided me further into my room, and I didn’t object. All I did was stare down at the bound book. The last piece of my brother. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
I felt the softness of the mattress as Deck made me sit, and then the floor creaked as he started to walk away.
I looked up at the retreating figure. “I wish it was you, not him.”
He gave no reaction to my words, and really, I hadn’t expected any. It just came out. And I did hate that Deck was here instead of Connor. I hated that he could walk back to his family and laugh and hold them and my brother couldn’t.
He turned his head and met my eyes. For a second, I thought I witnessed remorse, but it was so quick I could’ve imagined it or maybe I hoped to see it from my brother’s best friend.
“Yeah.” His whispered tone was barely audible as the door shut, and I listened to his steady, booted steps walk away.
The front door opened, and the screen door screeched. Both shut.
I had no idea why I did it, but I walked over to the window, parted the white sheer curtains and watched as he walked down the path. The tension in his back. The stiffness of his stride.
He stopped at the side of the car and stood still for a second. I couldn’t see his face or what he was doing until he slammed both fists into the roof of the car. Then his head dropped forward and his shoulders slouched.
My fingers curled around the delicate material of the curtains, and I didn’t realize how hard until they ripped from the rod and fell to the floor, leaving the window bare.
As if he’d heard it—but I knew that was impossible—Deck turned. Our eyes locked. It felt like he could see right into me with that direct gaze. I felt naked and vulnerable, unable to look away, trapped. He gave me these wounds. Wounds that would never heal. Deck was now part of the darkness inside me I’d never escape from.
His nod was barely distinguishable before he broke the connection and opened the car door.
I watched his lean form curl into the driver’s seat.
The engine came to life with a loud purr.
Life. Something Connor had lost.
I turned away just as I heard the squeal of the tires on the street.
My perfect world had just been thrown into destructive chaos.
“RYLIE, LOOK! ULTIMATE cupcake of the day is here.”
Rylie snorted and looked over her shoulder at the guy unfolding from the blue Lexus. “Georgie, your ultimate is Deck Ryan and that is definitely not him. Secondly, Tristan is an arrogant arse with nothing going for him but a chiseled body and money. Total meatloaf.” She pressed the button on the cappuccino maker and it hissed as the air spurted out and foamed the milk.
The bell on the door clanged.
I ran my tongue along my upper lip and walked to the cash register then placed my hands on the counter and leaned forward so my breasts were accentuated. They weren’t anything special, but they were mine and I knew how to use them when needed.
Tristan was wearing his usual expensive business suit that clung to his striking form like bees to honey. When he started coming in a few weeks ago, he had a stick up his ass. Barely looked at me and sure as shit didn’t take to my flirting. That was an issue because I needed him to look at me whether I wanted him to or not.
I toyed with all the hotties to keep up appearances, but this guy was … special. I had to get his attention and a week ago, I got it. Now he flirted with me, and I suspected soon I’d have his number and a date.
Tristan strode toward me: tall, lean and with confidence written all over him. His looks matched his overbearing personality, short black hair, matching dark brows and a square jaw. Definite eye-candy except for the fact his intensity would scare the shit out of most women. Luckily, I wasn’t most women.