“You? Worried? No. As I said, you’re unflappable. Put the two of you together in a room, you’d have a stare-off showdown for eternity. Neither one of you would crack. It would be televised and everything. People would place bets. I’d probably walk away a zillionaire.”
“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”
The corner of her lip flirts with a smile. “Not until right now.”
And now I’m thinking about her mouth. On mine. The wedding kiss. Haven’t kissed or been kissed since. Coach’s rules and the playbook didn’t apply to me so much as the rest of the guys. Perhaps until now. My stomach flickers and then clenches as though arguing over Marriage of Convenience Club rules and personal space.
“Let’s not talk about my sordid past of questionable decisions.” Wearing a teasing smirk, Everly tugs on my beard. “Are you inviting birds to nest or are you frugal and save food scraps?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Flavor saver, Rip Van Winkle, whatever.” Bran had a beard and without realizing it, I started growing mine after he died.
As she runs her hands through it, I grip her wrist firmly, not because I don’t want her touching me, but because I need to stabilize myself at the unfamiliar flare inside.
She jerks back. “Don’t bite.”
“I’m not going to—” I cut myself off when I see the fear in her eyes. “Everly, I’d never hurt you.” My throat goes from dry to scratchy.
She steps back slightly, as if not entirely sure.
My eyes meet hers, trying to convey what I can’t with words.
“Can you just trim it? Clean it up?” I’m not ready for another big change.
She nods but still doesn’t move closer.
I take her hand more gently this time, causing my skin, my muscles, and my bones to crackle with energy. “Be careful.”
Her long, dark lashes brush the skin under her eyes as she blinks a few times, as though she’s waiting for me to fully confirm that it’s okay.
I give her a slight nod.
Everly rolls her shoulders back, and she puts on a brave face as she moves in close, planting herself between my legs as she trims my beard.
I keep my gaze glued to her, praying that she doesn’t waver...praying that she won’t leave when she sees me. I don’t recognize myself anymore and I’m not sure the makeover will do me any favors.
The thing is, I’m a shell of who I used to be. Can’t remember the last time I smiled or laughed. That changes a person, inside and out.
Plus, there’s the scar.
Even though I hardly recognize myself, I do recognize Everly. She’s the woman whose eyes I held as we stood hand in hand, in the courthouse. Whose plump lips had spoken two fateful words,I do. Who I didn’t forget but never expected to see again.
She pauses briefly as she carefully clips the hair around my lips, presumably seeing the scar.
Her eyes flash to mine in question, but I don’t offer an explanation. With the beard, it’s easier to hide: my appearance, my past, and the emptiness.
But when her breath moves softly against my skin, her fingers touch my hair, and her thigh presses against mine,the stirring that turned into a flare drives down deep into an uncharted place inside me. It travels among the stone and cold, the wasteland of my inner terrain as if looking for a rest stop, an ice cream parlor, somewhere to park and stretch.
“Whew. We are done. We made it,” Everly says as if she too experienced the soul journey of the last hour.
She spins me around in the chair so I can see the results of the makeover. “Ta da!” She wiggles her fingers while waving her hands excitedly.
At the sight of myself in the mirror, resembling my brother so completely, the guilt inside builds like pressure beneath the earth. My muscles and tendons tighten, blood rushes through my veins, and the grunts that ordinarily come from my throat turn into a growl.
13
EVERLY
Since the moment I started washing Grey’s hair and then trimmed his beard, I’ve been hyper-aware of his proximity. I wasn’t entirely joking when I asked whether he’d bite, but with him, I feel safe. Like he trusts me and I can trust him.
