Crazy for Your Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #5)(17)

My palms are sweaty against my thighs, and I have to look away from my brother’s too-perceptive gaze because, no, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to admit there’s an it to talk about.

“You know we don’t mean to upset you,” Jake says. “It’s just fun to tease you about Teagan.”

Oh, hell. My breath whooshes out in a rush. He’s not talking about the warehouse. He’s not talking about Max or my nightmares, or me avoiding my family. He’s talking about Teagan. About last night.

My relief is like the cool breeze that brushes the leaves off the trees and lets them start over. I’d love that—to have everything wiped away so I could start fresh, so I could feel like the person I was before I lost my best friend.

“What happened between you two last night?” Jake asks.

I shrug. “It really wasn’t anything.”

“You like her,” he says. “You’ve always liked her.”

Yeah. And if I’d heard her moans in my ear and had my hand between her legs before my life burned to ash in the warehouse fire, I’d have fought like hell to turn the chemistry between us into something more than I’m equipped to offer now. I shake my head. “We’re friends. I’m happy with that.”

Jake sinks into the chair beside me and stares out at the trees lining the back of the property. “I walked by the office while you two were”—he clears his throat—“in there.”

I hear the apology in his voice. I know my brother. He didn’t mean to spy, and he’s not totally comfortable nosing into my business, but he feels weird knowing there was more to last night than we’re letting on.

“So, I can pretend I didn’t see anything. That’s not a problem, and I won’t tell anyone.” He winces. “I mean, Ava already knows, but . . . if you want advice or to talk or something, I’m here.”

I cough. “Advice?”

“I do know something about having feelings for a friend.”

He and Ava might be the very best example of two people who were afraid to risk their friendship for something more but eventually made it work. Keyword being eventually.

“Teagan and I aren’t you and Ava.” I laugh softly. “God, you are a lucky sonofabitch, though. All those years of pining, and look at you now.”

“Don’t I know it.” His voice is thick with emotion. Fatherhood has softened him, leaving all those gooey emotional insides showing. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. And I don’t mean about your love life. I mean . . . I know you miss Max.”

Shit. Not off the hook like I hoped. “I’m coping,” I say.

“It was awful.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“Bethany has been a good friend through this. She gets it, you know?”

He studies me for a beat, but I can’t tell if he’s about to call me on my “talks” with Bethany or if he’s trying to decide if he should insist I see a professional. “Good.” He nods—once, twice, three times. Like he’s trying to convince himself. He pokes my bicep. “You’re getting soft.”

“Just because I’m not working out with you doesn’t mean I’m not working out.”

He arches a brow. “Is the same true of eating? You’ve lost weight.”

“I’m fine.” I used to meet my brothers at the gym every morning I wasn’t on duty, but I haven’t returned to that old routine since the warehouse fire. There’s nothing appealing about the idea of hanging out with my brothers and trying to banter with them and pretend everything’s okay.

It’s something I should get back to. Maybe I will. Soon, I’ll make myself join them again. Just . . . not yet.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket.



Myla: If I’d known you needed a fake girlfriend last night, I’d have gone to the fundraiser. Did Teagan keep you safe from the crazy ladies?



Well, at least Myla knows it was an act. Before I can reply, another text buzzes through.



Myla: Want me to come over tonight? I can bring beer and pizza . . . and my mouth, of course ;)



Jake snorts. “Shitty closer, my ass.”

I scowl at him and turn off my phone screen. “Don’t read over my shoulder, fuckface.”

“I didn’t mean to, but . . .” He shrugs.

“But what?”

“Like I said, I’m worried about you.”

I stiffen and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. “Why? Because I have a healthy sex life but no girlfriend?”

Jake’s brows disappear under his shaggy hair. “One might argue that’s not possible.”

“What?” I laugh, but the sound wouldn’t fool anyone. I don’t find this conversation amusing. “Now that you’re married, you’re going to lecture single guys about sex without emotional commitment?”

“Since when is this what you want?” he asks. “I’ve seen women throw themselves at you for years, but you’ve never been promiscuous before. You wanted more than that, but now . . .”

“Now I’m what?”

Jake groans and braces his hands on his knees. “You’ve been different since Max died. You try to hide it, but that shit? Your phone blowing up with offers for blowjobs or booty calls or whatever the fuck she was offering, and you drinking too much, then disappearing with random women—”