I forced a smirk when I said the last.
Maggie didn’t smile.
“I’m not scared.” Except when she said it, she shook. Words scraping her throat as she pushed them out.
My chuckle was rough and full of a disdain that was fully directed at myself, and I was easing in closer, so fuckin’ close because I was the fool who just couldn’t seem to stay away.
Beggin’ for trouble.
Everything about her was shy. But it was a knowing kind of naivety.
She had experienced things no one should ever have to.
Innocent except for something profound that radiated from her soul.
This girl who could do me in.
Greed consumed me, and I reached out to let a knuckle trace along the delicate angle of her jaw.
Need crackled in the air. That thing there was no chance we could acknowledge.
Maggie released a ragged, stuttered breath.
My words were gravel. “You should be.”
Before I let myself slip any farther, I ripped myself away and forced myself to head for the Jack and Jill bathroom that adjoined our rooms.
I needed to put about a thousand miles between us. I’d say between here and Dalton would do, except for the fact I hadn’t been able to purge her from my mind in all the months she’d been in LA.
A fuckin’ continent between us, and still I was achin’ for something I couldn’t have.
Her voice speared me to the spot when she whispered at my back, “You’re right. I am scared, Rhys. I’m scared of the way you make me feel. Of the way you make me feel something I don’t understand.”
I swung a glance at her from over my shoulder, taking in the girl where she stood in front of the balcony.
Beautiful in a way that shouldn’t be real.
“Believe me, darlin’, I feel the same. But you and I can’t go there.”
For a second, we stared.
Just fuckin’…caught.
“Friends?” she finally forced.
“Yeah, Sweet Thing. Friends.”
Maggie gave me a tight nod, and then I pushed into the bathroom, shutting the door to her room before I crossed to mine and shut that one, too, because shit, we needed some barriers between us.
I heaved out a sigh of relief that we’d actually made it through that encounter halfway unscathed, and then I sucked in a startled breath when I noticed the dark figure lurking across my room.
In an instant, the storm gathered.
My insides clotted with fury, and a shock of rage curled my hands into fists.
Took me a flash of a second to come to realize who was standing there. That it hadn’t been the type of threat I’d been anticipating, though I shouldn’t have been surprised by this one, either.
Blowing out the strain that nearly had caused me an aneurysm and forcing myself to play it cool, I smacked an overexaggerated hand over my chest. “Scared the shit outta me, bro. You tryin’ to give a poor boy a heart attack? For a second there, I thought the Grim Reaper had come to pay a visit. I mean, shit, look at you.” I let all the razzing I could muster rise to the surface.
Royce grunted.
Not amused.
He was leaned against the massive carved black dresser that took up one wall of my room, wearing a dark-gray suit, tats leaking out from under his shirt onto his neck and hands, all black hair and blacker eyes.
Funny that his sister favored him so much when she was an angel and the dude looked like the devil.
“Want a word with you.”
Shocker.
I grinned, smug as fuck. “All ears.”
He pushed from the dresser. All kinds of intimidation. Royce Reed might be a badass motherfucker, but he had no clue that the demons I was dealing with were way bigger than him.
Besides, I was about twice as thick. Could take him.
Lickity split.
Not a problem.
But I wasn’t about throwing blows with my Em-Girl’s man. With Maggie’s brother.
Besides, dude was just doin’ his damned job.
Could feel it…the protectiveness that radiated from his pores. The old fears that haunted him.
Recognized it well.
“Want you to keep away from my sister.” His voice was low.
My laugh was boisterous. “Ah…come now…playing the overprotective card? I think your sister can make her own decisions about who she’s hanging around.”
So maybe there was a slight warning there. I respected him. Liked him. But he needed to get somethin’ straight. “You need to give her a little space. Let her figure out who she wants to be.”
Darkness clouded his expression, animosity dripping from the kind of wounds that just weren’t gonna heal. “That’s fine. Just not with you.”
I cracked a grin, fighting the part of me that wanted to be pissed at what he was insinuating.
He knew I would hurt his sister.
I knew it just as well.
I forced as much lightness into my response as I could, patting his cheek condescendingly. Basically being me. “No need to worry your emo-heart, rocker boy. Your sister and I are only friends. That’s all.”
He made a sound that promised he didn’t trust me.
Yeah, me neither, asshole.
“She shouldn’t have been with you at that bar.”
Obviously.
“Girl wanted to go see a live band. I took her. Not a big deal.”
“And she ended up drunk.”
My brows lifted. “She’s twenty. Not fourteen.”
Royce angled in closer, fear and anger breaking free. “You should have been watching over her. Taking care of her. And instead, your pathetic, selfish ass who only cares about having a good time got into a barfight and got yourself arrested. Left her vulnerable.”
Should have let it go.
Grinned and bore it.
Didn’t know how to do it when it came to Maggie Fitzgerald. I moved on him before I could stop myself, cocking my head down to glare at him, fighting the urge to fist my hands in his suit jacket. “You think I wasn’t lookin’ out for her?” I grated, my teeth grinding so hard that I thought they were gonna turn to dust. “You think I wouldn’t stand in front of a fucking speeding train for her?”
That’s what I’d done.
A fucking train I couldn’t stop that ushered my destruction.
Sought it.
And I refused to let Maggie stand in its path.
Royce’s voice cracked with the care he had for his sister. “She’s been hurt, man.”
“Know that.”
Before he could respond, my door banged open and a burst of wild energy came bounding in ahead of a clatter of excited footsteps. “Oh, Uncle Rhys, Uncle Rhys! Did you hears it? My baby cousin Amelia is here, and she’s soooooooo cute.”
Royce and I separated to find Daisy standing there with her hands pressed together like they were issuing a prayer, the child giggling and sighing and clearly enamored.
Daisy was nothin’ but adorable pigtails and earthshattering smiles, this wee little girl who’d gone and obliterated my heart.
She was the daughter of my oldest, closest friend, Richard Ramsey, lead guitarist of our band, and his wife, Violet.
Immediately, I knelt in front of her, brought to my knees.
Thing was, looking at her was pure pain and outright joy. My chest in knots every time her tinkling voice filled my ears.
“She is precious, isn’t she? Just like my Daisy Mae.” No fakin’ the smile that spread across my face.