Page 20 of Savage Lust

“My brother.” She shrugged and sat beside me. “They both ended up crashing at the clubhouse last night.”

Having seen the slew of willing women there, that didn’t surprise me. But I didn’t like the ugly little feeling nestled in my stomach.

Cam came in first, Merc right behind him. Dylan’s brother was prettier than I remembered. His dark hair framing his handsome face. He wasn’t as tense here; the edge gone. The half-grin was natural, easy.

Cam took the cup Dylan offered and stopped short of digging through the bag, his gaze landing on Archer’s leather vest, neatly folded over the chair under the old land-line phone on the wall. There was that momentary flash of vulnerability usually hidden beneath the surface. The grief, as his daughter, I should feel.

The bite of chocolate croissant in my mouth soured, and I placed it back on the plate and chased the nausea inducing bite with sweet latte.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Dylan’s tone was forlorn.

Merc grunted, though there was a gentleness to the sound as he hopped onto the counter and pulled a bag of weed from his pocket, breaking it up to stuff a cigar shell.

Cam said nothing, instead ran a hand through his hair and sat down, digging into the bag and pulling out a cherry Danish.

He looked over the edge of the bag and caught me watching him. His lifted brow held a touch of arrogance challenging me. To what, I didn’t know. I flicked my gaze to my lap.

Or maybe you do.

Dylan mentioned something about the party the night before, changing the subject, though I missed most of what she said. I found it increasingly difficult to focus when Cam was around. Especially when he seemed edgy and pissed off, like now.

His deep rumble joined the fray, and something broke free in my chest. These three, they loved each other. They were comfortable here. This was the family Archer created when he’d left me behind.

You don’t belong here.

Forgetting my hangover, I stood so fast my head spun. But I clutched the back of the chair long enough to steady myself before walking out. I’d made it as far as the guest bedroom when Cam caught up.

“What’s up?” He started from the doorway, lifting a hand like he was going to reach for me. A battle waged in his expression.Concern softening his eyes and something else, something darker hardening the line of his mouth. He was caught between wanting to comfort me and not trusting me.

“I ….” My voice came out in a croak and I ducked into the tiny half bath and locked the door. Once there, I let the emotion wash over me.

My life was shit. Any dreams or desires, any plans I’d made, were long gone. I was just some piece of desert white trash sleeping in her car. That’s where I belonged. Not here, intruding on their grief.

Fuck.

The hot water beat down on me, each scalding drop washing away more of my self-pity. I’d tried so hard to be good my entire life. Maybe if I was, my dad would come find me. Maybe if I’d been smarter, my life would be better. Maybe if I’d tried just a little harder—Mom wouldn’t have died.

These people didn’t know me, wouldn’t understand what it was like to be alone, lost. They had their connections to each other, some of them since birth. I had nothing. No one. Not even a memory of my dead father. What had been a sad day for them, had been one of the happiest I’d had since Mom’s diagnosis. I was a trespasser here, but part of me didn’t want to leave.

The other part wanted to run like hell.

I don’t know how long I stayed in the shower, but I heard the guys move outside talking near the bathroom window. Probably going up to Cam’s or the garage.

When I opened the door, I found Dylan sitting on the freshly made bed, crisscross applesauce with a photo album in her lap.

“The guys are outside, smoking,” she said, and then glanced up at me with a hesitant smile. “You looked like you needed a friend.”

“Thanks, I think?” I fumbled, before busying myself with my suitcase and clinging to the towel wrapped around me.

At least it was Dylan in the room waiting for me, not Cam. The blush crept hotly up my neck.

“You should unpack, you know.” She nodded toward the suitcase I stood beside. “Archer wanted you to stay, or he wouldn’t have set things up this way.”

But he’d never tried to see me, never been a father to me the way he had to Cam. And how much did I tell her? I had a brief recollection of opening up to Cam, telling him where I’d come from. Sick to my stomach, I clutched a hand there. “I don’t know.”

I considered hiding in the bathroom again but turned my back to her and put on my clothes.

As I changed, Dylan continued companionably. “I checked the laundry room. There’s detergent and stuff. If you find anything else you need, I can go get it for you.”

---