“Right, Graham.”I have a vague memory of a skinny kid with Morgan’s eyes but none of his charm.“The younger brother?”
“Unfortunately.”Silas’s mouth twists.
“Why did Hunter punch Graham?”
Silas scrolls more, and then shakes his head.“Unclear.But I have three text messages from random people asking me what I know.”He sighs and puts his phone down, swapping it for a beer.
“Hunter said Graham deserved it.”
“Oh, I’m sure.Graham is like...”He frowns.“He’s been dealing since high school, but now it’s harder stuff.Fentanyl, maybe.”
“Wait,” I say, a memory coming back to me.“Wasn’t he going to open a dispensary?”
Silas scowls.“Yeah.Morgan lent him money and I even looked at properties for him.But Graham thinks everyone should cut him a deal and I got sick of his shit.”
Great.Just what Here needs, some dumbass drug dealer.This town really is going to shit.“Hunter can be so protective of his people and whatever Graham did, I’m not sad about it, but damn, I can’t believe Hunter punched him.I don’t think he’s punched someone in his life.”
“That’s...”Silas hesitates.“That’s not true.He punched me once.”
“WHAT?”That came out even louder than when I shouted at Hunter.“Oh my god.When did my brother punch you?”
Silas runs a hand over his jaw, the rasp audible despite my music still playing quietly.“We were fifteen, I think?It was at Kit’s place, and we were playing Marry Fuck Kill and cracking each other up when I said I wanted to marry you.Hunter wound back and punched me before I knew it was happening.”
“You said you wanted to marry me?”
Silas shrugs, a playful smile tugging at his lips.“Yes.”
“But...I was...”
“You were what?”
“I was eighteen.And...”It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something disparaging about my body, and I bite it back.
It’s as if Silas knows, though.“Bailey,” he says gently.“I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”
The words land like a physical touch.I force myself to meet his eyes, expecting to see pity or kindness or the sort of gentle lie you tell someone to make them feel better.
But what I see is heat.Want.Years of it, banked behind those glasses.
“Always?”My voice comes out smaller than I intended.
“Always.”He leans closer, and I can see the exact moment he realizes what he’s doing—confessing something he’s kept locked down for over a decade.His jaw tightens.“Even when I shouldn’t have.”
Because of Hunter.Because I was off-limits.Because I was leaving.
The air between us feels charged, dangerous.
Heat floods my cheeks and I look away, my fingers fidgeting with the crust of my pizza.My skin suddenly feels hypersensitive against the lace of my teddy, and I’m acutely aware of how close he’s sitting—close enough that I can smell the hops from his beer mixed with something woodsy that’s just him.
“That tracks, actually,” I say.“Hunter punching you.With the teasing that was going on in school, he was trying so hard to protect me.”
“I remember the bullying.”
I snort.“Yeah, Ben Hartly had nicknames for me and my friends.Big Bird, Carrot Cake, and Willie.”I roll my eyes, even though it still stings.“He was the worst.”
“Well,” Silas says, leaning toward me.“You want some juicy, small-town news?”
I lean in too.“Hell, yeah.”
