Page 45 of Love Thy Brother
“Who made it? When they made it? How they gave it to you?”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” I fought to keep the growl out of my voice. To bemyselfinstead of a pseudo-Cam that would bring the worst version of River out to play. “If it’s connected to Timmersons and the blood on the walls in there, it paints a different picture to this bullshit than the one you’ve given me. If it’s not, then someone else came at you and I wanna hear all about that too.”
River made a low sound in his chest, gaze fixed on the horizon behind me. On the sunrise I was missing. “Why is this all about protecting me? Why can’t you be here just because you want to be?”
“Why can’t it be both? Maybe I’m fucking delighted with that knobhead in the van for giving me an excuse to superglue myself to you.”
“So you’ll be un-delighted with him when he moves onto someone else and you have to go home?”
Yes.“Un-delighted isn’t a word.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” I stepped a foot onto the bench, leaning on my bent knee. “And who knows? Maybe I won’t go home. But none of that matters if some psychopath kills you, so can we focus on that first?”
“Maybe I won’t go home...” River repeated the words as if they’d come from outer space. “That’s not a thing. You don’t want to be here, or anywhere else that isn’t the club. Don’t pretend this ends with anything other than you walking away like you always do.”
Arguments bubbled up my throat. Some the same. Some brand new. But a thunderbolt of pain struck me before I could let them loose, stunning me silent and stealing the precious few moments I had to tell River he was wrong.
Or at least, that I wanted him to be.
Couldn’t deny club life was all I knew. All I’d ever wanted. I loved River, and something deep and primal inside me cried out to be with him, whatever the cost. But I loved my brothers too. I’d been without Nash for two days, and the ache in my chest was fucking unbearable every second that my skull didn’t go allhold my beerfor no good reason.
River rose from the bench, turning away.
I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go.”
“Don’t go where? Inside? You’re the one that won’t leave.”
“You want me to?” I planted my foot back on the ground and stepped closer, lacing our fingers together in a way I might not have dared if a damn fucking migraine wasn’t messing with my head. “Really?”
River stared at our hands, conflicting emotions raging in his molten eyes. He usually settled on anger, but he seemed different this morning, as if he’d left that part of himself in the chip shop last night. “I didn’t bring you out here to talk in the same fucked-up circles we’ve been spinning in for years.”
“Why did you bring me out here then?”
River edged forward, narrowing the space between us even more, his hip pressed against mine, his ridged abdomen. Fuck me, I could smell him, and it was the best cure for the dizzying rhythm banging in my brain. Diesel and cotton. The coconut oil he used sometimes to tame his wild mane of chocolate-brown waves.
Kiss me.
Wow. So often, it was kisshimthat floated through my consciousness. Through myimagination—cos I never saw that shit through.
That you know of.
I squeezed my eyes shut, crushing River’s hand in mine, sensing him shift even closer and slide an arm around my waist.
Nope, not happening.
He was probably already inside, locking the door behind him, shutting me out. It was more believable than the warm fingers rubbing my hip. The thumb at the pulse point on my wrist. More survivable. River hadn’t touched me like this in a long time, and I’d forgotten how consuming it was. That I couldn’t handle it without barrelling through every boundary holding my heart hostage.
I opened my eyes. His face was right there, gaze pinned on me, a frown creasing his dark brows. I smoothed it away, letting my hand slide to his jaw. In this moment where everything around us—everythinginsideme—felt wrong, this felt so fucking right.
Kiss him.
There it was. But I didn’t move. I just stared at him, willing him to break the tortured spell we’d been beholden to far too long.
River leaned into my touch, his rough cheek scraping my palm. Our lips were inches apart. I licked mine, a quick dart of my tongue, wishing it was his. I stroked my thumb under his shadowed eyes and took a breath, and—and...
