Guilt washes over me.I’m keeping secrets, but not the way you think.Slowly, I nod. “He really isn’t like that. He leaves me—” Despite my best effort, my voice hiccups. Months ago, when I agreed to this marriage, I didn’t think about how much I’d need someone to confide in. “He leaves me alone.”
“See, that’s how we’re different—I wouldn’t.” Asher raises his hand to my cheek, different from how he was touching me before. Something if Brayden came in and saw, he wouldn’t be any less angry at. Or hurt by. I don’t know which is worse.
I should tell Asher to stop. I should move away from him. I turn my face into the cup of his palm then, with effort, draw myself back. “We need to get you out of here.”
“I can sleep in your bathtub until he goes to bed.”
“That’s what—”That’s what Brayden did on our wedding night.He came back drunk and slept in the tub without wakingme, even though the bed had been large enough for two people to share without touching.
Downstairs, the noises have stopped. Did Brayden pass out on the couch? Did he go into the kitchen for food—or more to drink? Did he notice Asher’s car parked out front? It doesn’t matter. Asher needed to be gone five minutes ago. He needs to have never come over at all.
“I’ll deal with Brayden,” I say to him. “Once he’s distracted, you can go downstairs and leave.”
Asher’s mouth curves. “You sneak a lot of guys out of here?”
“No.”
“Good.” He leans in like he’s about to kiss me goodbye. Something that feels doubly wrong with Brayden downstairs. Then he pauses and diverts his lips to my cheek. “You need anything, you just say the word.”
I take exactly one deep breath before I step out into the hallway. If I can just get Brayden into his bedroom, then Asher can sneak out the door like I told him to—leaving his shirt in a tangle in the dryer, taking his bat.
His bat. Which he left on the kitchen counter. There’s no way Brayden didn’t see that. There’s no way we’re going to get away with this.
What other choice do I have? I summon my courage and step out into the dark. The backstairs are narrower and steeper than the ones at the front of the house. Each riser announces my presence. What will I find in the kitchen? Brayden drunk? Him holding the bat and telling me to pack my bags and get the fuck out of his house? I imagine his disappointment, his disdain. Worse, the subtle hurt in his eyes that I put there.
At the bottom of the stairs I find—nothing. Just an empty kitchen with an emptied glass on the counter.
There’s a noise from up the hall. Someone moving, then a thump of clothing circulating in the dryer. Brayden emerges from the laundry room.
Guilt washes over me. I push that down and replace it with a smile. “Brayden, hey.” I try to be casual and miss by about a hundred miles. “Everything okay?”
He’s looking at me in a way I can’t interpret. Suspicion? Maybe just home late and drunk, though he’s not stumbling or slurring. Maybe that’s worse—being drunk so frequently you can appear sober during it.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
Instantly, I can feel every place Asher touched me, all at once, the bite mark on my chest throbbing. My voice feels stuck in my throat.
“There were a bunch of towels in the wash,” Brayden continues.
Right.Right. The sink breaking, which felt like it happened eighteen years ago. “The faucet broke and one of the pipes was leaking pretty badly. I tried calling a plumber, but no one was picking up.”
“Is it still broken?”
“No, I fixed it.” Somehow, something that still doesn’t feel real. I watched a YouTube video a few times, found the water line leading into the sink, turned off the water, reattached the faucet handle, removed and drained out the pipe, tightened various connectors in the pipe, and turned the water back on. “We should probably get someone to take a look at it just in case.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I—” My jaw clicks shut. In my panic, I’d never even thought to ask him for help.I called your teammate before I told you. “You were out,” I finish.
Something in Brayden’s shoulders deflates, some sense I’ve hurt him in a way neither of us was expecting. “I would’ve come home.” He says it quietly.
“I managed okay.” I smile. “Actually, I used a wrench.”
He grins back at me. “Yeah?”
“I’d never used one of those. Oh, I should probably put that away…” I turn to examine where it should still be on the kitchen counter. The wrench is already gone. Did Brayden put it back in the garage? But the bat is still sitting there like a question.
“That’s not one of mine.” Brayden says it mildly, but there’s something lurking under that.Whose is it?
