Bad Boy Brody(44)

Finn came up next to Abby, his arm going around her shoulders. She fell into his side, and neither reacted at how natural that movement was for them.

My throat started to burn.

My mother would come up behind me, run a hand over my head, tousling my hair, and I’d lean into her, just how Abby rested against Finn.

“Matt’s going to pop a vein when he finds out you were in the house and talking to us.”

Abby’s eyes lit up. “Do you want a glass of wine? Wait.” She frowned. “Do you drink?”

I glanced to Brody, who had come up beside me. He met my gaze, both of us remembering the time I drank with him.

I was torn.

His eyes softened, as if he were trying to tell me this was okay to do. He shifted on his feet, the back of his hand grazing against mine.

It was the slightest touch, but Finn saw it. He drawled, “So that’s actually happening?”

I tensed.

Brody didn’t.

No, that wasn’t right. I felt the air around him. He was just as tense as I was, but he didn’t look it. He threw a lazy grin back at my brother. “What’s happening?”

Abby’s mouth formed a small O.

Finn gestured between Brody and me with his free hand. “The two of you. Matt said it was, but it’s different seeing it.”

“What?” Finn’s fiancée asked, joining the conversation after putting away the mop and throwing the paper towels into the garbage. Frowning, she looked at us, noticing how close we were. “Oh,” she murmured.

“Matthew did?” Brody clipped out. His jaw clenched. “Really?”

Finn frowned. “Said you guys got cozy during your week off.”

Brody’s hand left mine as he shifted, almost shielding me. “And how would he have known that?”

“Uh . . .” Finn’s shoulders abruptly fell back down. “Shit.”

I moved around Brody. The old uneasiness I felt earlier came back, and this was it. It was back and building, burrowing deep into me.

“Finn.”

He looked at me.

“How did Matthew know about us?”

He jerked up an awkward shoulder. “I don’t know. He—uh—” He flung a hand, gesturing to Brody. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“Not about this past week.”

Anger was literally rippling from Brody, crashing into and melding with the bad feeling inside me. I was sinking, further and further down.

Abby said quickly, “What does it matter? Matthew knows everything. You’re here. You can have a glass of wine with us, right, Morgan?” A nervous laugh rang from her before she closed her mouth, chewing down on her bottom lip. “Come on. Let’s sit and talk.” Her voice rose up again with a desperate ring. “Or I’ll walk back with you to the fence. I want to know how you are. I want to know . . . I want to know everything.”

I looked at my sister. I remembered playing with her, having her do my hair, wanting to learn about makeup from her. I remembered how she would let me play dress-up with her clothes or take me to the mall to shop for hours.

I was shaking on the inside, but I nodded to her. “A walk would be fine.”

“Yeah?” She perked up and turned to Finn.

He was staring at her, and the two seemed to share a conversation with no words. Finally, he gave her a half-grin. “Go. Talk to our baby sis. Then come back and report everything.” He said to me, “I want to know too.”

I turned so that my back was to the rest and looked up at Brody. The anger was still there. I saw it flaming, but like Finn and Abby, he nodded to me. I was going to Shiloh. He knew what I was going to do, and he wasn’t fearful of never seeing me again like my siblings were.

I reached out, my hand grazing over his stomach. He caught it, giving it a small squeeze before letting go as I started for the door.

“Morgan!” Finn called out.

I looked back.

“Will you—”

I already knew the answer. “Yes.” I would see him again. I wouldn’t disappear.





Brody



I gave the girls a few minutes to walk from the house. I didn’t want them to come running back, but as soon as I was sure they were out of hearing distance, or within reason for Morgan’s hearing, I walked toward her brother.

Jen saw the look on my face, and I heard her say, “Oh boy.”

Finn was turned to me, watching as I closed the distance between us.

He looked around, but my hand was at his throat before he could take a step toward an exit.

“He—” His eyes threatened to bulge out.

My hand squeezed, but I ignored how he tried to grab ahold of my arms. I walked him back against the wall and lifted him in the air. I didn’t give two shits if this got me fired. He could explain why I put my hands on him. I had a strong feeling my reason outweighed his.

When he began making choking sounds, I relaxed my hold, just slightly.

He could breathe, but just barely. He could talk if he tried.

Leaning forward so he damn knew to take me seriously and said, “You’re going to tell me how your brother knew about Morgan, and if you don’t”—I squeezed my hand again, leaning even closer—“I will hurt you, and trust me when I say that I know how. I got my ass beat by my old man every day I was in his house. I picked up some nasty tricks.”