Page 122 of The Lilac River

We stood like that for a moment, a quiet pact of mutual fear binding us.

I finally pulled back, offered a smile I didn’t feel, and moved toward the coffee pot. I poured two mugs with shaking hands.

“Here. Have this.”

He took it but gave a wan smile. “I think we need something stronger. You want a brandy?”

“I’m good.” I needed to stay alert. I needed to believe they’d be walking through the door any second.

“Maybe I should wait too. We’ve got a poker game tonight, but…” He paused, lips twitching. “Might be hard to focus with this much adrenaline. I don’t need an alcohol buzz, too.”

“Where’s the game?” I asked, trying to distract both of us.

“Cody Hargreaves’ place. You remember him, right? His dad owns the liquor store.”

“Yeah, I remember. Gunner went to school with him, didn’t he?”

Wilder nodded, taking a sip of the coffee and grimacing. “Cody throws a couple games every year. Buy-in’s two hundred, winner takes all. He?—”

The door banged open.

“Fuck, you’re a dickhead.”

We both turned, and there they were, Nash and Gunner barreling through the door like they’d just walked off a battlefield. Nash was shoving Gunner’s shoulder, his jaw tight, while Gunner wore his usual crooked grin.

“You could have killed us,” Nash barked, exasperated.

“Where the hell have you been?” Wilder demanded, practically dropping his mug on the counter. “I messaged you an hour ago!”

“He,” Nash jabbed a finger at Gunner, “decided we should come back through the woods and across the old hayfield. Without lights.”

“Why?” Wilder blinked. “Why didn’t you have lights?”

“Because,” Nash said, turning his narrowed eyes on his brother, “he thinks we’re in a spy movie. Said we might be followed.”

“Dad is not part of the Secret Service,” Wilder deadpanned.

“I didn’t say he was. Just that he’s paranoid enough to be.”

But Nash’s expression shifted the second his gaze landed on me. All the sharpness softened. A slow, private smile curved his lips.

“You okay, Lila?”

The tight knot inside me finally loosened. Relief surged like a tide.

“I am now.”

Nash crossed the room in three long strides, scruffing Wilder’s hair as he passed. He pulled me into his arms, and I sank into him, surrounded by warmth and safety and the scent of soap, leather, and him.

“Did you find anything?” I asked, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t get caught.”

“Oh, we found plenty,” Gunner said, dragging out the word like a tease. He grabbed four beers from the fridge and handed them out.

“Let’s take a seat and I’ll tell you everything.”

Nash kissed my cheek before letting me go. “We can always do this tomorrow,” he told his brothers. “You’ve got that game.”

“Nope.” Gunner popped the cap on his beer. “Doesn’t start till ten-thirty. We’ve got time.”

---