“Had to?”
It’s not something I want to talk about. Especially with someone like her. Someone I don’t want to think less of me. Besides, no one knows the real reason I’m here. Not Aria or Wes. Not my parents. No one.
“Yeah,” is all I say.
“And it’s only for a year?”
I grin at the way she says that. With something similar to disappointment in her voice.
“A year.” I hope.
We walk two more blocks and then take a left, heading up the steep rise of the street, deeper into Beacon Hill.
“This is me.” She points to a large connected three-story brick building that make up the apartments and houses in Beacon Hill. She was right. She does live around the corner and all too soon, our walk is done. “Thank you for walking me home.” She turns to me, her eyes suddenly so very serious as they search my face. “Are we to be friends?”
No, I instantly think. That sounds like a fate worse than death. And I tell her so. “Absolutely not.”
She doesn’t laugh. She reads me clearly. “What would you call us then? You know we’ll end up being around each other a lot if your people are my people.” She smirks tauntingly, and my dick pulses in my jeans.
“Friends don’t have the sort of thoughts I’m having about you.”
“So, not friends then. Not quite enemies. Casual acquaintances doesn’t fit either.”
“Do we need a definition?”
“I think I do, yeah. I feel like I need some way to categorize you.”
So she can set boundaries and limits. Rules. That never works when you’re used to pushing past limits and breaking rules. But I’m getting the sense she thrives on control, and with this situation, she’s not wrong in what she’s doing.
Except we can’t be friends because you should never fantasize about your friends, and that’s all I’m going to do with her since I can’t touch. Considering how ruthless and cutthroat I can be with someone I deem an enemy, she’s clearly not that either.
I lean in and press my lips to her cheek. I linger because she lets me. I take a deep inhale because I’m a masochist. “Let me know when you figure it out.”
I take a step back and then another, dropping onto the uneven cobblestone street. Climbing the three stone steps, she unlocks her door including the two deadbolts, barely opening it so I can’t so much as see inside and figure out which apartment is hers. But then she reaches in and flips on a switch, the soft light of a chandelier filtering out through the window above her door, and I wonder if she has the entire three-story building.
“Good night, Brecken.”
Then she steps inside and shuts the door behind her, locking everything up tight.
A wry smile hits my lips. “Good night, Angel.”
Yeah, Boston is suddenly starting to look up. Off-limits or not, this Angel has certainly made my sentence here a hell of a lot more interesting.
4
rina
Sleep came in useless waves of restless bouts of tossing and turning. Between Harrison’s father trying to get in contact with me after six years of radio silence, making sure my entire house was in order, and exactly the way I left it that morning, and Brecken, my head was full. Oddly enough, it was easiest to think about Brecken than anything else.
Even though he’s the complete and total opposite of easy.
The man had my pulse racing with his soul-wrecking eyes and panty-dropping smirks. Every dirty thought floating through his head was broadcast across his gorgeous face because he wanted me to know every single one of them.
They were an invitation I was more than tempted to accept.
Truth, I was a half beat from grabbing him and mauling him right there on the street. Until he pulled away and called for amnesty.
But the thought of mind-numbing sex with a man who I already know isn’t a violent threat, who can rock my world with a single swipe of his tongue, flick of his finger, or thrust of his cock, and doesn’t want anything else from me in return? Yeah, that’s about as perfect as it can get for me right now—other than the fact that he’s my best friend’s brother.
That’s a complication I certainly do not need when my life is already one big complication.
My phone rings on my nightstand and I roll over, smiling when I find it’s Oliver calling at this early hour. “Hey,” I say after swiping across my screen to answer.
“Good morning,” he replies, his tone bright but serious.
“You’re calling me early for a Friday. I thought your shift doesn’t start till ten.”
My brother Oliver chuckles. “Is it early? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oli?”
“I miss you,” he says, and I fucking love my brothers. “I didn’t get up early enough for a run this morning, but how about tomorrow? Are you working?”
“I am,” I confirm and since I have to be on the floor at seven a.m., I do not usually work out before my shifts. “Tonight?” I offer, though I’m reluctant to spend time with my brothers after what my parents told me last night about Harrison’s father, I can’t ignore them either. They’d be all over that. Rarely does a day go by that one of them doesn’t call or try to connect. I’ve often teased them that they’re on a schedule of intrusiveness, but I love it and they know it.
Honestly, after everything that happened to me, we’ve all grown closer. It’s the one good thing to come out of that nightmare. Busy schedules mean nothing to my family when it comes to me, and I’m so lucky for that.
I’d be a scattered piece of grass in the wind otherwise.
“Tonight would be perfect actually. Meet at five and then dinner after? But no kickboxing. Just a run.”
“Aw, come on. We haven’t been to the gym in forever. Why are we paying for a membership if we’re not going to use it?”
“Because we’ll use it eventually. Just not tonight.”
“Afraid I’ll whoop your ass again? I think the tally is something like Rina-50, Oliver-0.”
“Ah, Rina. How cute are you?”
“Uh-huh. Catch ya tonight, Oli. Bring your A game or I’ll outrun your pathetic old man ass.”
“Say that shit again and I won’t buy dinner. See you later.”
I grin, ending the call and crawl out of bed to get myself showered and dressed, wearing ripped jeans, a loose white tee, and my flip-flops. I leave my long hair down, only brushing it out and letting it air dry. My hair is straight, thick, but with no natural volume to it. In the winter, it’s dead on my head, but in the summer the humid Boston air gives it enough life that I don’t have to bother blowing it.
Running with Oliver is exactly what I need and if he won’t do boxing with me tonight then maybe I’ll go tomorrow after work. Even if the thought of needing that sits heavy in my stomach.
Leaving my house, I lock everything up, double, triple, and even quadruple checking. Then I pull up the camera app on my phone, ensuring I can see myself standing in front of my door and then I check the garden door feed. Everything is visible and everything looks secure.
When was the last time I quadruple checked my locks?
A few months? Longer?