Page 83 of Memories of Us

“I was trying to protect her,” he said, then took an unsteady step toward me. “You've been through enough because of me—”

“Oh stop it with that shit,” I yelled. “You don't get to decide what I'm protected from or what I'm not involved in. Leaving me out of this wasn't your decision to make.”

The distant howl of coyotes filled our stiff silence. Instead of sticking around to hear what other bullshit he would use as an excuse, I waved to Kyle, told Ryder I'd call her later, and climbed into the truck.

Minutes ticked by with the engine idling as the other three stood in the headlights, talking too low for me to understand what they were discussing. With a shake of hands, the small group disbanded and Brenton turned, pinning me with an uncertain gaze through the windshield before shuffling to the truck. He grunted as he hauled himself in and slammed the passenger door.

Turning the AC on full blast, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Fine. Not talking about it, then.

I shifted the truck into Drive and headed home.

“I'm sorry,” he said halfway back. “I really thought I had it handled. And I don't want you anywhere near those bastards. They don't know you exist, and we're going to keep it that way. They'd find some way to use you as leverage if they did.”

Ah, so there it was. It wasn't about putting me in danger tonight but the long-term effects that he was concerned about. When he put it that way, it did make sense.

“I get it, I really do. You're a dude, a soldier whose main focus is protecting others. But you don't get to make that decision for me. All you had to do was tell me why you didn't want me out there and we would've figured it out. I let you boss me around in bed, and I love it, but everywhere else, I make my own decisions. I'm not some simpering Dallas socialite.”

“Thank fuck.”

A small smile tugged at my lips as we pulled up the long drive. “I'll help you inside.”

Halfway up the steps, he wobbled and swayed. To prevent him from tumbling back down, I ducked a shoulder under his arm and pulled him close. Inside, we bounced off the hall walls a few times before making it to his room.

“Hope Mrs. Hathway didn't hear us,” I said through gritted teeth. Damn, the man was heavy.

“She's gone. I fired her this evening when we got back.”

Hell. Was it bad that I wanted to say thank you?

Still processing that bit of information and how I should feel, I guided him toward the bed.

“No, I need a shower.” Redirecting, we shuffled as one to the large en suite bathroom. The marble countertops and white tile floors gleamed when I flicked the bright lights on. While I readied the shower, he leaned against the counter and examined his face in the mirror. “Not bad. Not good. But not terrible.”

“Could've been worse.”

“But it wasn't thanks to you and your posse.”

I snorted and tugged the black T-shirt over his head. Those tatted arms fell to his side, then reached back, pulling me flush against his hot skin. With a relieved sigh, I melted against him and pressed my cheek to his back.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Thank you for protecting my brother,” I whispered. “Is he... I mean, are we good, or will they come back?”

“We're good. I'll wire them the money tomorrow. I made it clear about what I'd do if they stepped foot on my property again.”

“Was that before or after they treated you as their personal punching bag?”

He squeezed me closer. “Before. I think they were trying to prove a point.”

“Which was?”

“That they would do what I asked, but it wasn't because they were scared of me.”

I tensed at the anger in his tone. “Should they be?”

“If they get anywhere near you, yes. I want you to know something.” He flipped around, resting his ass on the counter, and pulled me against his chest. “If anyone could make me want to try, want to figure out a real relationship, it'd be you. But I'm not there. I know you've waited, but there’s still a lot of shit about me you don't know, that I don't want you to know. What if that’s the final straw in you walking away?”

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