I move instantly.
Brielle goes lax as I roll us over and pin her to the mattress beneath me. I bury my face in her throat and breathe her in, too overrun by emotions that scare the fucking hell out of me. They’re distracting, but she’s more so. Her vanilla scent is overshadowed by the laundry soap I use as it clings to the shirt she’s wearing. I reach down and harshly fist the fabric, yanking it up her stomach.
“The more you tell me things like that, the more I want to keep you,” I declare into her skin.
Her lips find my ear and stay there, demanding that I listen to what she says next.
“I’m not going to stop, so I guess you might as well just take me, then.”
35
BRIELLE
I poke Wes’rock-solid bicep and frown when he doesn’t immediately tell me to stop.
He hasn’t said more than a handful of words since we got to our parents’ house an hour ago, and even then, Mom was the only one he’d speak to. There’s been this foreboding sense of dread inside of me since we walked through the door, and while I’ve tried to ignore it the best I can to ensure this party doesn’t go up in flames, I’m struggling. Badly.
The way he’s sitting screams fuck off. You’d think he was about to get his dick cut off from how tense he is, not seconds away from blowing out the candles on the birthday cake Mom stayed up all night baking for him. The icing is too loose and, from experience, is sugary enough to make my teeth ache, but she tried.
I think that may be the only reason Wes hasn’t left already.
“You look miserable, Wesley,” Dad scolds him from his reclining chair.
It’s the only place he’ll sit because he’s old and grumpy and too stubborn to dare park his ass anywhere else. Everyone knows not to even step too close to it, too scared to be on the receiving end of one of his chastisements. Well, mostly everyone.Wes used to purposefully sit in the chair when he was itching for a fight.
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me in my own home. If you’re going to be a broody bastard, own it.”
I close my eyes and hold my breath, calming my nerves.
“I’m here. Isn’t that good enough?” Wes snaps back.
“Finally. If only we got to see you on your actual birthday. Do you have any idea how disappointed your mother was when you didn’t spend the day with her and we were offered a day weeks afterward?”
Dad’s leaning forward now, his brutal, dark brown gaze drilling holes into Wes’ face. My stomach flops with guilt, knowing I’m the reason he’s here, listening to this. I keep trying to remind myself that I did this for Mom. That my pushing Wes to come wasn’t for Dad at all, but for the woman who has loved us fiercely our entire lives.
“It was my fault that he didn’t come on his birthday, Dad. I threw him a party at my place instead,” I say, lying through my teeth, but doing it well.
I’ve been lying to my father since I was a preteen. One could say I’m a pro at it now.
Dad flicks his glare my way, though it softens a fragment. “Why didn’t you say that, then? You let your mother think her only son didn’t want to spend time with her. Neither of you come home nearly enough as it is. If you’re avoiding us, you should come outright and say so.”
“Oh, wow. I wonder why we would want to avoid having such overwhelmingly joyous conversations more often,” Wes mutters, folding his arms stiffly across his chest. “You make coming home such an enjoyable occasion, Dad.”
“Watch your mouth?—”
“Cake time!” Mom cheers as she sways into the room, a bright smile on her soft features.
I blow out a breath and stand, instantly yanking my shorts down my thighs as far as they’ll go. I already received a scolding for their length the moment I stepped through the door. I don’t need another one.
Standing beside Mom, I match her expression and face Wes. The twenty-eight candles on the cake are lit and flickering as she extends it to him and nods encouragingly.
“Blow them out, honey.”
I tip my chin toward the cake when he looks at me, stress pulling at every corner of his face. The guilt is ruthless as it jabs right through me, leaving my insides sliced to bits.
Wes unfolds his arms and takes the cake from Mom’s hands before blowing them out in one steady stream. The lack of candles left burning has Mom laughing and taking the cake back.
