Page 77 of Chief's Addiction

“What happened?”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up, concern flashing across her pretty face. “You don’t remember? Maybe I should get Doc...” She started to move toward the door.

Panic skittered through me as I racked my brain, trying to remember the last thing I did and what I’d done to end up in here. Before I could work myself into a full-blown freak-out, the door swung open, and standing in the doorway was my big brother.

“Braxton?”

My brother’s massive frame went rigid as his eyes landed on my face. I watched a storm of emotions cross his features—surprise, relief, and then pure, white-hot rage as he took in my battered appearance. His jaw clenched so hard I could practically hear his teeth grinding. Behind him, I spotted Rage, his tattooed arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Rage,” Mac breathed, and the tattooed giant’s expression immediately softened as he looked at her.

I watched as Rage pulled Mac to his side, his large hand coming to rest protectively on her belly. Yeah, definitely pregnant. The tender gesture made my chest ache with something I couldn’t quite name.

Braxton moved to my bedside, lowering his big frame into the chair Mac had vacated. He took my hand in his, careful of the IV line I just noticed was taped to my arm.

“How you feeling, Squirt?” he asked, his voice gentler than I’d heard it in years.

I wanted to tell him the truth, that I felt like death wrapped in a burning trash bag, but I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw and the barely contained fury in his eyes. My big brother was hanging on by a thread.

“I’ll live,” I said instead, forcing a weak smile.

He nodded, his thumb rubbing absently across my knuckles. “As soon as Doc says you’re good to travel, I’m taking you back to Miami. You’ll be safe there.”

Wait, what? Miami?

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly how likely that scenario was, which was somewhere between a snowball’s chance in hell and absolutely fucking never, when the door opened again.

Mason stood in the doorway, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His dark eyes immediately found mine across the room, and the naked emotion in them stole what little breath I had left. Love. Guilt. Anguish. Rage. All directed like a laser beam straight at me.

“Hey, baby,” he rasped.

“Hey, honey,” I replied, reaching for him with my free hand. Even that small movement sent pain radiating up my arm, but I didn’t care. I needed to touch him.

“Baby? Honey?” Braxton’s voice was deadly as he rose to his feet, eyes ping-ponging between me and Mason. His hand released mine as if it had suddenly caught fire. “What the fuck, BROTHER?” He spat out the last word. “That’s my fucking sister.”

Mason didn’t even spare my brother a glance as he moved to take my outstretched hand, his palm warm and calloused against mine.

“Told you years ago. She ain’t mine,” Mason replied, his eyes never leaving my face.

The memory of Mason telling Braxton almost those exact words five years ago flashed through my mind. We’d been at Aunt Connie’s place, and my brother was trying to warn him off.

Finally, Mason’s gaze broke from mine to meet Braxton’s glare. “What she is, is my woman.” Then his eyes returned to me, softening again. “My ol’ lady. The woman I love and one day,” —he turned back to my brother— “she’ll be my wife and the mother of my children.”

Holy. Shit.

I’d never seen my brother look so betrayed. His face went through a rapid series of emotions—shock, anger, hurt.

“Brax—”

Without letting me finish, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

“We’re gonna...” Rage pointed awkwardly over his shoulder, then grabbed Mac’s hand and practically dragged her from the room, leaving Mason and me alone.

Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over before I could stop them. My brother had always been protective, but I had hoped... God, I don’t know what I had hoped.

“Hey, none of that,” Mason said gently, smoothing away a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “He just needs a minute to process, baby.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. My brother was stubborn.

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