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She stayed silent for a long while. “My brother is the reason I hate storms.”

His hand on her back stilled. That was not what he’d expected to hear. “What happened?”

For several breaths, all he heard was the crackle of fire.

Finally, she nestled deeper under his chin. “About ten years ago, Kyle and I drove out to the mountains for a hike. I warned him it was going to rain, but he said it’s fun hiking in the rain. But the rain came down harder than either one of us expected, so we cut the hike short and got in his car to drive home. On our way back, the storm got worse. It was impossible to see even a few feet ahead. And some idiot cut us off. Kyle flipped out. Started to speed up, tried to chase him down this winding mountain path. It all happened so fast. We skidded off the road and rolled downward.”

Releasing her, he bolted up. “What the fuck?”

She sat up too. “We were upside-down. Trapped. Kyle had been knocked unconscious by the airbags. My cell phone battery had died earlier, and I figured if I could get out, get to Kyle’s phone, I could call for help. I don’t remember much after that… I’d hit my head. Somehow wandered off. The emergency services finally found us. Roman—our, um, friend—called the police when I didn’t come home, but not until a good ten hours later. I’d passed out somewhere among the trees. All I remember is the lightning and the thunder and being cold and disoriented by the dark. And soggy pine needles stinging my cheek. I’ve hated storms since.”

Pain lanced through Oliver’s hands. He’d dug his nails in so hard he almost broke skin. Slowly, he unclenched his fists. “He almost got you killed.”

“Yeah. He did. My parents and I insisted he go to therapy for his road rage. And he did. At least he said he did, said it helped. Later, I learned he’d lied. He never saw a therapist.”

“Fuck. I had no idea.” She might be a Yarrow, but she was a victim of her brother’s actions as much as he was. “Did you break anything?”

“A few cracked ribs and a nasty concussion.”

Taking her hand, he threaded their fingers together, her palm cold against his. “There’s not much of an age difference between the two of you.”

“Four years, but he’s the baby.”

“And you?”

“The girl who always fixes his mess. I’d promised myself I’d go see the Hill of Tara the next time I’m in Ireland. Instead? I’m looking for Kyle, and there’s no time for anything else.”

Untangling their fingers, she turned away from him.

Involuntarily, she jerked at the clap of thunder.

“I’m going to put my arm around you,” he warned, angry at the storm that was making her miserable. Tell me no. Move away.

When she didn’t protest, he pulled her into the shelter of his body.

Flipping in his hold, she resettled against him, relaxing on a deep exhale. He liked it that she found safety in his arms.

“I don’t think this storm is going to move past anytime soon,” she observed. “At this rate, I’m never going back to my room.”

I don’t want you to.

Great. The last thing he needed was to pine after Yarrow’s sister.

When he grazed her cheek with his fingertips, she tilted into his touch like she craved it—like she craved him.

“You can sleep here. I’ll watch over you.”

When her leg brushed his erection, she tensed, but didn’t pull back. Instead, she scooted higher until they were nose to nose. “I wish it were different between us.”

Panic clawed at him. She was too close. At this distance, she’d see the entirety of the damage—evidence of what he’d become instead of who he’d been. He shifted so that his melted side faced away from her, neck straining with the effort. “But it’s not.”

She rolled off him, sitting with her knees tucked under her. “I should leave you alone. I’m better now.”

“Don’t go.” He hadn’t realized he’d said the words until she froze.

“It’s best I do…” Her teeth sank deep into her bottom lip. “But maybe just this once…”

Surprise curled through him. “You’re going to stay.”