Charlie: There it is. I was hoping I could still make you smile.
Our little chatyesterday felt like the first step back toward each other, but we’re still miles from what we once had.
The ceiling fan has been making the same lazy rotation for the past two hours while I stare at it, unable to stop replaying everything in my head.
So many summers spent swimming in her sweet buttercup scent. I had no idea I never wanted to leave her side until it was too late. The familiar ache bangs around my chest as it has for years.
Thinking about your best friend’s little sister is one thing. Being in love with and dying to kiss your best friend’s little sister is definitely another. Somehow, it all got lost in the years dividing us.
I still can’t stop thinking about how she looked in the barn. Her curves, her edges, her sweet scent—all of it sexy as hell.
Beau coming home last night for the second time smelling like her didn’t help at all.
He was drenched in her scent. Not just a hint of it clinging to his clothes—no, he was absolutely saturated. Vanilla and buttercups, so uniquely her… it was wrapped around him so thick I could smell it the second he walked through the door.
And there was only one way for him to get that covered. I couldn’t stop the near-blinding surge of desire and envy that erupted in my chest.
“So, how’d your night go?” I’d asked him, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, my Alpha instincts breaking free of the subdued place they usually exist.
Instead of answering right away, he’d collapsed onto the couch, dropping his head onto the back of it, looking toward the ceiling. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then: “I kissed her…”
The words hung in the air between us.
“You what?” I’d managed, my heart doing something complicated in my chest.
“I kissed Willa. Or she kissed me. I don’t know who started it, but it happened, and then Jake was there, and she—” He broke off, running his hands through his hair. “Just fucking bolted.”
The three of us talked late into the night, the conversation circling pack bonds again. I couldn’t suppress the welling of desire and hope that she’d let us court her. That she’d give us a chance to prove we could be what she needed.
We’d decided we’d talk to her today. It was really the only day before Jake and Beau hit the road again for the last leg of the competition, and I’m supposed to be on a plane to Tennessee in less than six hours for a fundraising benefit with Caleb.
I don’t want to leave. Don’t want to fly halfway across the country when Willa’s right here and everything feels like it’s about to go up in smoke.
The clock on my nightstand blinks 7:30 a.m. in accusatory red numbers. I’ve been awake since five, running through scenarios in my head, trying to figure out the right words to say to convince her we’re worth the risk.
I’m just about to force myself into the shower when my bedroom door swings open hard enough to bounce off the wall.
Beau stands in the doorway, still in the clothes he wore yesterday, his face a mask of barely controlled rage.
I’m on my feet before I consciously decide to move. “What’s wrong?”
“Downstairs. Now.”
The tone of his voice—sharp, urgent, wrong—sends adrenaline spiking through my system. I follow him down the stairs, where Jake’s already waiting, looking as exhausted and disheveled as Beau. They’re both pulling on coats and boots with jerky, hurried movements.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
Beau shoves his phone at me. “We gotta go. Better hurry.”
The screen shows a text from Marshal Lane, APBRA CEO. My stomach drops before I even read it.
ML:Be in my office at 8 a.m. We have a problem.
Below is a link to a video file.
“What’s this?” I ask, but I’m already clicking it, some sick sense of dread telling me I need to see whatever this is.
The world drops out from under me.
