“Could you kindly ease up on the forearm? As a trauma doctor, surely, you know it’s difficult to talk when your larynx is being crushed.”
Blake shoved off me. The sudden release had me sucking in air like I’d been underwater.
I rubbed my throat, feeling the tender spots already forming. “Jesus. Might need imaging after that.”
“Don’t mess around with my sister.”
I cocked my head, studying him. “I’m sorry, can you remind me who your wife is again?” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, that’s right. My sister.”
“That’s different.”
“Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly the same. Just feels like shit when you’re on the other side of it, doesn’t it?”
“It is different.”
“Really? Do tell. I’d love to see what you can come up with.”
Blake’s jaw worked, grinding his teeth. “First off, you left?—”
“I didn’t leave her,” I interrupted. “I took a beat to process her case. If I hadn’t done that, you’d accuse me of being so starry-eyed, I wasn’t even thinking through everything I was learning.”
Blake opened his mouth to argue, but when nothing came out, he moved to a new tactic. “Faith has been through more pain and suffering than you and I combined. And that’s saying something, considering my twisted past.”
“I know she has.”
“No, you don’t know. Not really.” His voice dropped, and for the first time since we’d come outside, I saw fear beneath the rage. “Look, I love Faith more than my own life, but she’s … she’s been cornered and battered for so long. And cornered animals? Battered humans? They’re capable of violence we can’t even imagine.”
My stomach twisted. “Are you saying you think your sister is guilty?”
“I’m saying I don’t know what the fuck happened that night.” Blake’s fingers kept flexing like he was trying to strangle the air between us. “But here’s the difference between you and me, Ryker: I will stand by her, no matter what. Even if it turns out she hunted that guy down and slaughtered him in cold blood, I will love her, and she’ll always be welcome at my dinner table.”
He stepped closer. “But I know you. I know you have a line. And if it turns out she crossed it? You’ll walk away. Just like you did when you took your ‘beat’ to process it. So, I’m going to say this one last time.” His finger jabbed into my chest. “Stay. The fuck. Away. From my sister.”
“I’m her lawyer.” My tone saidfuck youeven though my words were playing nice. “Pretty hard to stay away when I’m the only thing standing between her and a prison cell.”
“Keep it in the lane, Ryker. Lawyer. Client. That’s it.”
“Too late. I already have feelings for her.” The admission ripped out of me before I could stop it. The thought of losing Faith, of walking away from whatever this thing was between us? It felt like swallowing broken glass.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
If there was a switch to flip Dr. Blake Morrison from Jekyll to Hyde, I’d just hammered it with a sledgehammer.
He charged.
This time, I was ready. We crashed into the grass, the chill immediately soaking through my shirt. The scent of grass filled my nostrils as we rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand. My already-injured knuckles screamed in protest, but I wasn’t about to let Blake beat my ass on her front lawn.
Déjà fucking vu. Last time we’d rolled around like this on a lawn, it was my sister’s place. Now, his. Apparently, Blake and I had a thing for beating the shit out of each other on residential property.
The front door burst open.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Faith’s voice, usually so controlled, cracked with something between fury and fear.
But nothing was stopping Blake now, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him whale on me without giving back as good as I got.
He was being an ungrateful ass.
We rolled across the lawn like teenagers, not two grown men in our thirties. My left fist connected with his ribs. His knee found my kidney. The wet grass stained our clothes as wegrappled, neither willing to throw a punch that would actually break something, but both too pissed to stop.
