Page 65 of Reckless Devotion

Teddy takes one look at us all, standing there stupidly, me with my hands practically around Mason’s neck. “Erm…bad time?”

“Yes,” Mason and I respond in unison, at the same time as everyone else rushes to reassure them otherwise.

I release him roughly enough that he takes a measured step back, his glacial eyes still trained on me. Taking one lookat everyone’s shocked faces, I turn around, heading silently past them all and avoiding eye contact. Something inside me is beginning to crumble, and I need to be alone when it happens.

Chapter 25

Maura:I made cookies for our next paint club night.

Kathy:Are they the organic hemp seed and kale ones you brought that time before?

Kathy:Because if so, I’ll pass.

Maura:Actually they are fennel and macadamia.

Kathy:I’ll still pass.

Rosie:Would it kill you to use a chocolate chip, Maura?

Maura:It’s good for you!

Kathy:I’d quite literally rather play in traffic.

Maura:Rude.

PEPPER

“There you are.”

I allow the wooden door of an old boat house by the shoreline to creak shut, my attention fixed on the bare, muscular back facing me.

Chase doesn’t move, his shoulders tight where he sits facing a small circular glass window that looks out over the ocean, his forearms braced against his knees.

“Whatcha doin’ in here?” I ask in a voice that is overly casual, trying to counteract the thundercloud dangling over his dark curls.

He stays uncharacteristically quiet as I slip across the worn wooden boards and around an old Chris-Craft wooden runabout boat propped on stilts, the varnish peeled and faded. When I reach him, he’s sitting on an old wooden chest, his face an impenetrable mask of stone, even splashed with the deep ruby glow of the sun setting low in the sky.

I take a seat next to him and wait, my hands gripping the edge of the chest beside each of my legs. Sneaking a glance at him, I note with great envy that he doesn’t even have rolls when he’s bent over. How many hours does one need to grunt away in the gym to have no stomach rolls? Or are abs made in the kitchen like all these fitness gurus tell us? The only thing made in my kitchen is thigh chafe and that bulge of back fat that makes me look like a trussed pork roast the moment I put on a bra.

I continue down this dilapidated road in my own brain for a few minutes before he finally speaks, gruff and low. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“See what?” I ask, and let a half-beat pass. “Oh,you mean nearly strangling your brother to death?”

He lets out a sharp huff through his noise that couldalmostqualify as a laugh.

I’ve never seen him look so angry. Sure, he was grouchy when we first met, but it was always restrained. Even that seems ill-fitting with his character now, which is usually light and teasing. His eyes turned into molten pools of onyx as he confronted his brother—who, quite frankly, seems like a bit of an ass—filled with fury and something that looked a lot like pain.

“Come on, lighten up, Wolfie.” I nudge my shoulder into his playfully. “We left some food for you, if you’re hungry?”

“I’m good, but thank you.” He scrubs a hand down his face and sits up.

“Are you sure? I make a mean guac…although, Mr. Clay didn’t think so. He said it looked like sick and refused to try any.” There is that sharp exhale again. “Want to talk about it?” I offer quietly, folding my hands together in my lap.

He hitches a cheek and bobs his head noncommittedly to the side, and we sit in silence for a few more weighted seconds. My gut tells me to be quiet, and it pays off when he eventually speaks.

“He’s always treated me differently, ever since we were kids.” Chase gets up and walks to the window, sliding his hands into his swim short pockets in a way that makes tanned muscle ripple and flex. “I don’t know why, and I don’t think it will ever change.”

I slip off the chest and take a few steps closer to him. There is nothing I can say here to comfort him, this is too deeply rooted between them, and only they can break the cycle. I won’t disrespect him with false promises that his brother doesn’t hate him, or that it will all end up happy families. Instead, I place a hand hesitantly on his back and lean my head against the side of his arm.