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“I want you,” he rasps again against her swollen lips. Her cheek. Her throat. Back to her mouth. “I want you so fucking much it hurts. Watching you with him...” his head bows and he nuzzles the side of her neck, breathes her in while she curls her fingers into his shirt and grips him closer. “I told myself it wasfor the best. That you’d be good for each other. I tried to convince myself I was doing the right thing. But every time he touched you in front of me, every time I thought about you in his bed ... God, Everly, I wanted to fucking murder my own son.”

Everly pulls back just enough to stare up at him, wide-eyed and blinking through a fresh stream of tears.

Lachlan continues through his own trembling fury and grief. “I hated it,” he chokes out. “Every second of the last two years. I hated him for having what I wanted. I hated having to pretend I wasn’t dying inside every time I had to resist the urge to rip you away from him and never let anyone near you again.”

“There is no one else,” she whispers with a tiny quiver. “There hasn’t been my entire life. It’s always been you and Mr. Weaver. I don’t want anyone else.”

Her admission tears through me, a giddy surge of excitement I have no business feeling, but she’s pulling me apart thread by thread and has been from the moment Lauren brought her home. Brought her into my life with her beautiful smile and warm radiance. I fought so hard to keep my distance. But she kept intertwining with every aspect of my existence. If she wasn’t with Lauren, laughing and filling up every corner of my dark world with her light, she was with Bron and Lachlan. She was sitting next to that useless prick, letting him talk down to her. Hurt her. But she’s been a constant nearly every day for five years.

I’m not oblivious. I’m old enough to know when a woman wants me. I know what I see in Everly’s gaze every time our eyes meet, but I also know I’m not a homewrecker. I may not like her choice in a partner, but Bron is who she’d chosen ... and he’s my best friend’s son and she’s my daughter’s best friend. It’s messy and complicated, and I don’t do either. End of story.

Still, I can’t lie to myself just how quickly I’d fold if she asked.

“But this doesn’t change anything, sweetheart,” Lachlan’s murmuring when I focus once more. “None of it will end well if we do this.”

I expect a protest from her, but she rests her brow to Lachlan’s chin and closes her eyes. “I know.” Her voice is barely more than a breath. Not defeat, but deeper. A chasm of sadness with no bottom. She’s no longer pleading or pushing but sits with crippling acceptance in my friend’s arms. “No one will understand.”

“I’d give anything to change it,” Lachlan murmurs into her temple where she presses her face into his neck like she’s hoping to hold onto this moment knowing it’s already slipping through her fingers. “To keep you.”

I can’t pretend I’m not affected. Not when every inch of me is screaming to tear her out of his arms and bury myself in her softness. To get my few minutes before it’s over. But the way he’s gripping her with white knuckles and a lock in his jaw, I knowthat’s not happening. As much as I want my turn, Lachlan looks like he’d break into pieces if he lets her go.

And I hate it. I hate that this has to be the right thing. That doing what’s good and safe means turning our backs on the only good thing in our lives.

I drop my head back against the seat and shut my eyes. I force my chest to rise and fall. To breathe around the jagged remains of my shattered heart and the sweet scent of her torturing me.

“Mr. Weaver?”

My eyelids spring open at the sweet murmur of Everly’s voice. My head rolls in the direction of where she’s still curled up in Lachlan’s lap. Her small, round face glows in the dashboard lights, but it’s her eyes that haunt me. They practically broadcast every thought she’s having in that pretty head of hers.

“Yeah, baby, I want you,” I tell her softly. “But you’d hate me if you lost Lauren because of me.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. Her gaze drops like she’s ashamed of what she’s about to say.

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” she whispers.

Lachlan and I exchange glances.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Lachlan asks.

Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip, an anxious picking that nearly has me reaching over and stopping before she tears ahole, but I stay in my seat. I watch her in the dusky light of the cabin while she tries to find the words.

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” she says at last.

I almost think I’ve heard her wrong. The quiet confession makes no sense, and I can’t help wondering if she’s just confused because — aside from Lachlan and I — I have never seen two people closer. Practically conjoined at the hip. From the moment we arrived in Jefferson, Everly and Lauren have been inseparable. There is no way either of them could have done something so horrible that it jeopardized their friendship.

“What happened?” I ask.

She’s not quick enough to turn her head away before the tears start. Her bottom lip quivers and she tries to contain it between her teeth, but it doesn’t stifle the first tattered sob.

“Hey.”

Lachlan gathers her closer. Folds her into his chest and she doesn’t resist looping her arms around him and burying her face into the side of his neck. Her back shudders under the strokes of his palms as she falls apart.

I unsnap my belt and move closer. My fingers wrap around her ankles, and I drag them across my thighs as I get as close as I can without joining her in Lachlan’s lap. My gaze never wavers off her even as I undo the tiny buckles on her heels and release her feet from the torture devices. The shoes areabandoned to the floor of the truck as I let my touch run up her calves in what I hope is comforting strokes.

“Talk to us,” I prompt gently. “It can’t be that bad.”

Every breath ragged and wet, Everly lifts her face just enough so there is no missing her words.