That’s less personally gutting than it was before though. Now, I see it as his self-inflicted punishment, convincing himself he isn’t worthy of being loved, not simply the conflict he felt about my brothers.
Once we’re both dressed, I brush my fingers gently over the bruise on his scruffy jaw, wishing that his battered soul could mend as seamlessly as this tender contusion will. “They’ll accept this marriage, Ty, because they want the best for me. And even though they’re angry, they know you’re the best there is. We’ll figure this out.”
He bobs his head, towing me against him by the waist of my shorts, and stuns me with his response. “You’re a Noire. And you’re a Reynolds. But names mean very little. I’ve had several. No matterwhich one we extend to others, I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine.”
His thumb dusts over my cheekbone, eyes frolicking all over my face. “When you confront Axel, don’t confuse bloodline with roots. You are you, no matter the lineage. The girl who lights up every room, who fills their lives with music, who is smart and clever and capable. And that’s who they love.”
God, I needed to freaking hear that. My heart swells with the insight laced into his perspective. He’s so good at that—seeing the battles others are waging. Probably because he’s fought the worst of them.
“Are there other questions I should ask Axel?” That’s my roundabout way of fishing to see if he knows more.
“Yes,” he says without expounding.
I could interrogate him or even fault him for not telling me what he knows. But our time has been fleeting and jam-packed, and the agent of the information is in this house, so I’ll start there and press Ty if that doesn’t pan out.
As I peck his nose, our eyes lock for a beat in understanding before I head for the door, the urgency of my queries suddenly igniting like wildfire in my bones.
The first steps into the hallway emit a disjointed sensation—dizzying, like a low gas leak, the scent of danger trickling toward me, but the source of the impending explosion is not yet identified. I mean, it’s notunidentified. It comes in the form of five raging Noire brothers.
Well, four.
Jax is on my side, whatever side that is. The second we breached the threshold of the master bedroom earlier, he apologized, told me that life doesn’t work without me, and that he’d show up for me however I needed him to. The bags under his eyes shouted how distraught he’d been. So, I told him that all was forgiven, and that if Ty viewed me as a burden, I’d require either a lobotomy or a sedative strong enough to comatose me.
Dramatic? Yes.
But that’s how he and I cope—jumping off the ledge is always a lingering possibility, but never one we’d actually entertain. He hugged me and told me he’d take care of everything before starting to pack my clothes.
The other four would kill Ty for my broken heart and sympathize with me later.
I follow the din of voices, Ty’s footsteps melding with mine. The second I round the corner into the family room, Ryker accosts me, sweeping me into his arms. And even though I can’t see it, I’m certain he’s casting a stony death glare on Ty. His spine is wooden despite him enveloping me in his warmth.
So, I steer him back to me. “I’m so sorry, Ryker. I know I scared—”
“Scared us?” he scoffs. “We’ve been out of our goddamn minds. You should’ve fucking talked to us. How did you expect me to carry on without my little pest?”
Ahh. Ryker. He feels everything more intensely. It leaves him rigid and grumpy. And often unbearable. But he also loves harder. Gain his loyalty and respect, and you have the strength of an entire army in a single man. Once you’re his, you’re always his. So, the important part about the moniker he assigns me isn’tpest. It’smy.
Which is why every emotion about my brothers billows out against his neck, like it did the day my parents died. “I heard you guys in the conference room, and I wanted to understand who I was, and then I found out about the tracking.”
“You’re ours,” he insists, and his head snaps up—no doubt he’s leering at my husband again, who I can sense is hovering. “That’s all that fucking matters.”
“And Ty’s,” I retort because we need to deal with that first and foremost.
A low rumble roars from Ryker’s throat as Axel sidles up to us, kissing my hair and rubbing my back.
“We need to chat,” he says. “About a lot of things.”
Nodding against Ryker’s chest, I give him one more squeeze before detangling myself and granting Axel my attention. That’s short-lived though because Maddox, Cash, and Jax all join us for their own greetings, swinging me around and assuaging the dour ambience a bit.
When we’ve finished our reunion, Liam winks at me from across the room, casual stance with Modelo in hand. I’d say he played a strong role in defusing the situation while Ty and I were locked in the laundry room. I’m sure they all did. Something transpired because while the aura is solemn, it isn’t homicidal.
It’s still such a mess though. Wells and his crew have always been the only group my brothers truly trusted. They’ve been a bit like family to us over the years. More so since Ivy married Wells. She made them all softer—her men and mine.
So, this—the stifling tension, the dank air creating invisible walls between the two families—is catastrophic. I love them all. I’ll either unite them again or they’ll tear me apart.
“Why don’t we go talk somewhere private, Rena?” Axel suggests. “We’ll answer all your questions, and you can fill us in on what’s going on with you.”
I glance at all the faces currently glued to this turbulent bubble I’m stuck in and make a decision. “I think we should all sit down together. Our family and Ty’s. That way, everything will be out in the open.”
