Page 44 of Shared By Her Brother's Best Friends

“I don’t feel tired now, and I know you won’t go back to sleep,” he says knowingly.

“No, probably not, at least not for a long while, I’m too worked up and worried now,” I reply truthfully.

“You can get in bed with me if you like,” he offers carefully, his voice sounding as though he wouldn’t mind either way whatever I reply.

I hesitate for a moment, somehow feeling more exposed in just my silk nightgown than when I’ve been naked in front of him. “Okay,” I say, climbing in next to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body and the softness of his sheets.

We lie there side by side, neither of us touching the other but it feels as though there’s an invisible current connecting us. Ty lies back and places his hands under his head, looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the silence and content not to speak unless I want to. I study him, the strong jaw highlighted by stubble, the muscled lines of his arms, the tufts of hairs in his armpits, and the well-defined obliques, shown off in this new angle.

Though I’ve seen him naked plenty of times, like this I can properly study his tattoos. Like the others, there are some snakes incorporated into the designs, and he has one of the club logo, he is an Iron Serpent after all. He also has a name on his side.

“Who’s Danielle? The one that got away?” I ask teasingly.

He stiffens, looking uncomfortable and I worry I’ve asked the wrong thing. If he’s got this person’s name tattooed on him, they were obviously very important to him at one time in his life, or still are. Maybe he’s still in love with this woman. The thought hurts me, and I feel a sharp stab of envy for whoever this Danielle is.

Not wanting to force him to answer I quickly add, “Sorry, that was nosy of me, you don’t need to tell me. It’s not like this…well whatever this thing between us, you, me, Mason, and Jax, is serious to you… For all I know you’ve got a partner to go back to and this is just some fun while we’re stuck here…” I babble.

He turns to study me, his eyes boring into me. “Is that what you think? That I would be unfaithful and lie to you about it?” he doesn’t seem hurt, merely curious.

“No, of course not,” I rush to explain. “I mean… you could be in an open relationship or just not looking for anything serious, so you don’t want to get too personal, keep things casual.”

“Is that what you think I want? Something casual?” he asks turning to his side and propping himself up on one elbow.

I mirror his body language doing the same. “I don’t know… You’re kinda hard to read. I never really know what you’re thinking,” I admit.

He smiles without showing his teeth with a soft, silent chuckle. “So I’ve been told. But if you had to describe the way I am toward you, or how you think I feel about you and this situation, what would you say?”

I’m caught off guard by his directness and naked curiosity. “Umm… well I don’t know, I suppose I sometimes feel like you can be… distant?” I suggest.

He nods taking on my words. “Yes, I suppose I can appear that way.”

“Why?” I ask softly.

“I find it hard to let people in, to know who to trust, and most of the time I prefer to watch and figure people out. First impressions aren’t always accurate.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “What was your first impression of me?” I decide to ask, fearing his candid honesty might sting a little, my eyes dropping down away from his shyly.

He reaches over and touches my chin gently, tilting it back up to meet his gaze. “I thought you were beautiful and a little bit broken, that something or someone had made you think you were anything short of incredible.”

My breath hitches with surprise at his words, so heartfelt and romantic yet also accurate and tragic. He sees me as some weak, broken thing, like a bird with a broken wing.

“Is that why you’re so distant with me? Why you haven’t tried to get to know me as much as the others and keep me at arm's length? Because you’re scared of breaking me completely? That I’m too fragile?” I ask boldly, trying to prove I’m not as fragile as he might think.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Emma.”

“Then what is it? Is it that you don’t want to be involved with a single mom? I get it. It’s a lot to have someone else’s kid in your life. You’re distant with Max, too,” I add.

Both Mason and Jax dote on Max and have made it clear they don’t care that he comes first, that I’m a mom. In fact, it seems that it’s one of the things they like the most about me. Ty is remote by comparison, he is kind and patient with Max and treats him respectfully, but like he does with me, he seems hesitant to let him in.

“No. Max is a great kid. Any guy would be lucky to have you and him in their life. I’ve been distant because I’m afraid of getting hurt. You’re not the only glass with a chip,” he says softly, his dark eyes sad. He pauses for a moment, rolling onto his back, hands clasped together on his chest, and I think that he’s going to withdraw back into himself, that this shared moment of vulnerability and openness will disappear. But then he finally speaks.

“Danielle is, was, my daughter. She died,” he chokes the words out, not looking at me.

“Oh, my… oh Ty I’m so, so sorry,” I say softly my heart breaking for him.

“It was a long time ago, almost ten years. She was a little younger than Max is now when she died,” he explains his voice thick with emotion.

“I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to lose a child. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” I stammer uncertain of how to respond or if I should touch him or not.

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