Page 8 of Sinful Sharing

Which left me feeling strange and dirty. I had no business observing my stepbrother’s kid like that.

“Whatever he’s hiding is none of my business—or yours,” I reply. “The only thing I care for is whether he humbles himself. I don’t want to be the asshole he probably thinks I am.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Roman.”

The concern in his voice alerts me. I turn around. Jude stares up at me, trying—and failing—to keep his expression neutral. I’ve known him long enough. I see the interest in his eyes.

“And don’t you think of fucking him.”

Jude makes a scornful sound in his throat. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that screws anyone with a dick,” I remind him.

“Come on. The kid seems straight.”

I give him the driest glare I can summon. “As if that has ever stopped you before.”

“Well, he’s your family, which means he’s mine, too. I don’t screw family. Never have, never will. That would be insane. Do I look insane?”

His long-winded reply confirms that he would indeed fuck Taylor if given the chance. I don’t know why that leaves a hollow feeling in my stomach. Jude and I aren’t exclusive, and we never will be. He can sleep with whomever he wants.

Except for Taylor.

Jude huffs when I say nothing. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am insane.”

“Don’t.” My stare hardens. I’ve seen him break too many hearts to let him anywhere near Taylor. The last thing I’d want is for Natasha to believe I let someone take advantage of her son. “You’ve got plenty of options in town. Stay away from him.”

He chews on his bottom lip, a flare of defiance in his eyes.

“I mean it, Jude.”

Something on my face relaxes his features. He throws up both hands. “You got it. I won’t touch him.”

His response doesn’t satisfy me, but I let it go. I bid him goodnight and head to my office upstairs. After watching my business steadily decline over the years, I recently made the tough decision to scale back and open only during winter. The upcoming season will be here in a few weeks, and we are a long way from being ready. Staff need hiring and training. A few cabins need renovating, plus a handful of other duties my brain refuses to process right now. Usually, there would be a small team behind me, but I couldn’t afford them anymore. Now, it’s only Jude and me.

And Taylor.

On the landing, my eyes shift to the first door on my right. Taylor had eaten only half of his meal before leaving the table—without asking to be excused—and hasn’t reappeared since then. I raise my fist to knock, but a sound stops me. Resting my ear against the wood, I listen.

Is he... crying?

5

Jude

My chest heaves beneath sweat-soaked sheets, my heart hammering so hard it feels determined to punch through my ribs. Darkness feels like a silken weight pressed against my body. For a long moment, I don’t know where I am. The bedroom gradually comes into focus—the familiar outline of the dresser against the wall, the lounge chair by the window, and the faint silhouette of the adjustable weight bench in the corner.

I’m home.

I’m safe.

Silently repeating those words changes nothing. My breathing becomes ragged, and the sweat clinging to my skin turns ice-cold as the memories flood my brain, as they usually do. I can never remember the entire thing, just fragments—a blessing, I guess.

But the parts that keep resurfacing are enough to shake me up.

A creaking bedroom door; soft enough that it shouldn’t have woken me, but it did. The sound still echoes inside my skull decades later. I remember the blanket being peeled away from my body, the cold air brushing across my bare legs, and the weight of someone standing over me before a large hand clamped down on my mouth.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I whisper, “No.”