Page 63

I’m not ready to hear the extent of the things they do to her. The two men. The brothers.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about it.

What do they do to her? What do they make her do? How dark and depraved is this book? Because I did not forget her asking us to use her like a toy because she read it in a book?

“I have even more questions,” Van reaches up and lightly sweeps a coil of glossy auburn hair off her rosy cheeks. “But we’ll let it go for now.”

Without another word, the man yanks open his door and hops out into the scorching sun. The heat rolls into the cabin with the breach, absorbing every drop of air.

I’m not a heat person. I need a crack in the window no matter the season. Ashley hated it, especially in the winter. But I can’t stand the clammy feel of my skin in the morning after sweating all night. Even during the day while at the construction site, sweating pisses me off.

Still, I jerk open my door and push myself out.

With only the keys tinkling softly in her slim fingers, Everly, followed by Van, hurries to the bay door. The angry ball of fire clinging to a powder blue sky catches in her wave of curls, setting off the gold and crimson highlights tangled through the strands. The coils glisten like light across a pond. It tempts me to sink my fingers into all that glossy weight and drag her into my chest.

Instead, I stand next to my best friend and watch Everly bend at the waist. Watch the dangerous hike of her skirt lift up the backs of her thighs. The dress isn’t something I’ve ever seen her in, or anything like it. In the two years she’s been officially in my life, she’d been clad in neat, professional attire I attributed to her job at the mayor’s office. Like this, with her hair in loose curls and her pretty, white dress, she seems so incredibly young. Much too young for two old fucks to be ogling her.

The lock at the bottom of the sliding door clicks open with the twist of her wrist. I reach her before she can yank the door up and do it for her.

I don’t know what kind of chaos I’d been expecting of a storage unit packed full of memories, but that’s not what I get.

The inside is immaculate. Wooden shelves are built along the three walls and lined with neatly labeled boxes, crates and plastic containers. If that isn’t wild enough, each section is separated by season and holiday.

“Your parents have a storage unit just for decorations?” Van asks, staring into the dusty space from her other side.

“No, this one is decorations.” Everly takes a step back to gesture at the two other doors on either side. She points to the left. “Clothes.” The right. “Furniture.”

“No wonder your mom said not to keep it all at the house,” Van chimes.

Everly chuckles and steps into the tidy space. “Dad was a very organized hoarder. I think knowing he had the thing even if he never used it was a key need for him. Drove Mom nuts. I don’t think she ever knew about the other storages. I think she only knew about the one.”

We follow her past Easter and Valentine’s, to Christmas. We stop at Halloween when Van plucks a black, suede cowboy hat off a plastic bin on the top shelf.

He drops it down on his head and tips the brim back with a knuckle.

“Think I can pull it off?”

Everly chuckles, but I bite my amusement back behind a scowl. “You look like an idiot.”

Everly gasps and grabs my arm as if to stop me. “Don’t say that!” To Van, she says, “You look very nice.”

He gives her a lazy, lopsided grin that contradicts his usual hard edges. “Think Jefferson needs a cowboy?”

She grins up at him. “I don’t think the single ladies would know what to do with themselves.”

Van hums softly and lifts the hat off. He replaces it back on the shelf.

“Definitely don’t want that attention,” he mutters.

Everly scoffs and starts past him in the direction of the shelf labeledparty.“There are a few really nice ladies I think you would like a lot if you’d give them a chance.”

I don’t have to see my friend’s expression to feel his disinterest. He doesn’t have to say a word when his eyes are fixed on her like the five feet she’s put between them is too much. The longing is unmistakable, and so damn similar to mine I have to move to the door before I put us both out of our misery by dragging Everly between us and reminding her how good we can make her feel.

Our tiny bundle of temptation chatters on while pulling out boxes and rifling through them. She’s listing off names of women she thinks Van would get along with. Stopping only occasionally to examine an item. Missing the scowl steadily darkening his features.

“If you like, I can set something up—”

Even I don’t see Van close the distance between them until he’s encroaching on her space, forcing her back into the shelves with him dogging her steps.