Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(4)

That’s not who she saw when she looked at him though. To her, he had the same dark hair, and looming height of the monster who had killed her parents. I was honestly impressed that she’d agreed to stay at all. Had the roles been reversed, I’d have been peeling out of the driveway. Some memories, no matter how slight, were best left in the past.

For years, Trent, Ian, and therapists alike had warned me about triggers that could possibly set me off. I did everything I could to figure out what they were and then avoid them at all costs. But Hadley had stayed. Her desire to spend time with Rosalee—and possibly me—trumped her fears. And that fucked with the organ in my chest—as opposed to the one in my pants—that shouldn’t have had any feelings other than guilt for Hadley Banks.

But it did. In ways I’d been trying to deny. A connection I’d been trying to sever. And, worst of all, an ingrained need to protect her that I couldn’t shake. Therefore, the fact that Trent was well aware that he’d freaked her out and he still managed to find himself alone and clearly freaking her out again pissed me the fuck off.

He didn’t like her. He’d thought she was up to no good and biding her time before making a move that would reveal her true colors. All of which he’d assumed were tinted the color of money. He’d stated that numerous times on the phone and then again when he’d shown up that morning and Rosalee told him and Jenn all about the party she was planning. Hadley didn’t need my cash any more than I needed his bullshit. As long as he followed through on his promise to treat her with respect in my house, he didn’t have to like her.

Rosalee wasn’t his daughter. He didn’t get to make the hard calls about who was or wasn’t involved in her life.

That was my job.

One I took very seriously.

That is if you excluded my desperate need to bury my cock inside her mother.

Fucking hell.

“Blow out the candles!” Rosalee exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Hadley’s eyes met mine. Her tangible panic sledgehammered me in the gut.

“Come here, babe,” I murmured in a low tone while flicking a glower at my brother.

He replied with a puzzled expression that was about as genuine as Hadley’s smile.

She didn’t delay in hurrying to my side, her hand fisting the back of my shirt, out of view from Rosalee as she blew out the candles.

“Yay!” Rosalee cheered, hefting the pink bag toward her mother. “Open it.”

Hadley took the bag, then peered up at me, something unreadable on her face but panic glistening in her eyes.

“Dry-heave?” I whispered.

She bit her lips between her teeth and nodded.

“Right. Okay. Let’s do presents after cake.” Pivoting to the long wooden table, I set the cake down. Then I returned to do the same with Rosalee’s gift. “You know what? I forgot plates.”

“I’ve got ’em,” Jenn chirped.

I ground my teeth. “I meant napkins.”

She lifted a stack of pink and purple unicorns left over from Rosalee’s interrupted party. “Got those too.”

Tilting my head with waning patience, I pointedly flicked my gaze to Hadley. “A knife?”

Jenn’s eyebrows shot up in understanding, and she quickly tucked the one in her hand into her back pocket. “Oh, right. Yeah. We’ll need a knife. Hadley, you don’t mind if Rosalee and I lick the icing off your candles, do you?”

My girl squealed when Hadley replied, “Have at it.”

Jenn winked at me, and I spared one last glare at my brother before guiding Hadley inside. If he’d felt its heat, I couldn’t be sure because his eyes were locked on Hadley, a satisfied smirk pulling on his lips.

Asshole.

When the door closed behind us, I wrapped my hand around hers. She started toward the hall bathroom, but I guided her up the stairs.

“Privacy,” I mumbled, closing the door to my bedroom.

She’d never been in there before, but her eyes didn’t wander with curiosity. She stared at me. A trapped urgency showed on her face without a single word exiting her perfect lips.

I rested my hands in the shallow curve of her hips. “Talk to me.”

Her teeth trapped her bottom lip, but not like they had all the times she’d stared at me from across the room. This was different—a physical verbal blockage of sorts.

I went for humor. It wasn’t a cure-all, but she’d always responded well to a distraction.

Using two fingers, I tugged her lip free. “Go ahead. You can dry-heave on me if you need to.” I rocked her toward me. “Hadley, come on, babe. Spill it. Is it Trent? Did he say something? Help me out here. I’m shit at mind reading.”

She pressed her lips together as though it were a last-ditch effort to keep the words filling her mouth from escaping.

She probably needed space.

A little air.

Time to gather her thoughts.

But even knowing that, I couldn’t convince my arms to let her go.

What the fuck was it about this woman that overrode my brain’s ability to process common sense?

Sliding my hands around to her lower back, I encircled her waist, bringing her delicate curves flush with my front. “You can talk to me. He’s my brother, but trust me, no one understands that Trent’s a hardass better than I do. If he was slinging shit at you for whatever reason, I want to know.”