Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(80)

Taking a long, slow breath, I look between the two of them. “So because Willa’s back on the grid, you two decided this was the best time to shave the middle of my fucking beard off my face.”

Tucker has the dumbass audacity to giggle from the corner, where he cowers. I fake a lunge at him and earn a high-pitched yelp. “Fucker,” I grumble.

Becks’s throat is still stuck under my instep. I feel his Adam’s apple roll under the arch of my foot when he swallows. “Okay, it was…a little aggressive. But I saw you take melatonin. That shit knocks you out—”

“Because I’ve had insomnia!” I yell. Since Willa stonewalled me, my mind was racing constantly at night. I kept having these horrible nightmares about her wading into the Pacific and drowning, hiking alone, getting lost and falling off cliffs. Dad told me melatonin was a gentle, non-habit-forming supplement that would help me fall asleep, and as everyone knows, Ryder’s a sedative lightweight. Melatonin doesn’t just quiet my mind—it knocks me out.

“Okay.” Becks swallows nervously. “Okay, so that was a little shitty, to prey on your drugged state. But the intent was noble.”

“Noble.” Scrubbing my face, I stare up at the ceiling, reminding myself murdering them will put a cramp in my outdoorsy lifestyle. Jail’s claustrophobic as hell, I hear. Barely any time outside.

“Shave that thing all the way, man,” Becks has the balls to say. “Look less like a doomsday woodsman and a bit more like a collegiate hottie.”

Tucker snorts. “Hottie’s a stretch.”

“Please.” Becks rolls his eyes. “We all know why Ryder grew the beard. Because he got too much attention clean-shaven, and when his ears went to shit, attention was the last thing he wanted.”

“Damn. Okay, Dr. Phil.” I let off Becks’s throat and trudge back to my bathroom, eyeing the damage.

They’re stupid enough to follow and stand behind me as I face the mirror. I tip my head from one angle to another, trying to figure out how to salvage this without shaving my entire beard.

There’s no way.

“Unless you want mutton chops,” Tucker offers. “But considering I grew up next door to a creepy guy with mutton chops who always tried to offer me popsicles, I’d get very strong pedophilic vibes. Your facial hair would be triggering, so for my emotional safety, that only leaves fully shaving your face.”

I stare at him in the mirror. “You have serious balls to shave a landing strip on my face, then make up emotional triggers and a pedophilic neighbor.”

Tucker groans. “You’re too hard to lie to.”

“Nah. You’re just a shit liar,” Becks chimes in.

I throw up a hand, silencing them. “Both of you. Out.”

Tucker fist-pumps the air. “You’re going to do it?”

I level him with a look that makes his hand drop slowly to his side. “Right. We’re leaving.”

“Sorry again,” Becks says right before they shut the door.

Staring at my reflection, I heave a long sigh. When I pull open the vanity drawer, the hair scissors sit right in front, gleaming as if they’ve been waiting for me.

Joy’s voice echoes in my head. “Promise me something. Don’t give up on her, okay?”

“All right, Joy.” I tug the first chunk of beard away from my face, then drag the scissors through it with an echoing snip. “This one’s for you.”





I feel naked. As I walk campus, it’s just like those recurring dreams I had as a kid. The ones in which I showed up at school only wearing my parka. The moment the dream became a nightmare was when I began to unzip my coat, only to realize I had nothing on underneath. In my dream, I’d yank the zipper up and hide in the coat closet until Mom came to get me.

But this time, there’s no zipper to secure me, no mother on her way to save the day. The beard is gone, only faint blond stubble lining my jaw. A warm wind drifts over my face, reminding me how little now protects me from the outside world.

I had no idea how much I hid behind that beard until it was abruptly taken from me. At least I still have my flannel shirts. This one’s Willa’s favorite. Blue and green plaid. Her eyes always lit up a little bit more when I wore it.

Becks, damn him, is not wrong about the attention my face gets without the beard. I feel more eyes on me as I walk. I don’t want more eyes. I want Willa’s. I tug my ball cap lower and check my phone when it buzzes. Old habits die hard—I still keep my phone on vibrate rather than ring, and I still hope it’s Willa every time.

It’s a text from the man who started this shit. I spy a hottie.

I growl. I’m going to kill Becks. Glancing around, I try to find his hiding place. As I’m distractedly searching for him, my head high over the sea of most others that I wander by, I suddenly slam right into a small, compact body.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going…” Willa’s voice dies off as she stares up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. She sways alarmingly, so I grip her arm, frowning at how much less mass is there. She’s thinner. An odd giggle bubbles out of her.

“Something funny?” I ask.

She shrieks and jumps back. “Who the fuck are you?”

I raise my eyebrows, tipping up the brim of my hat. “Sunshine, are you serious?”