Page 4 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 4

Wren

I’d done my duty and had gotten the hell out. Yeah, I’d already worked out and showered, and it was the fucking worst time of the day to go for a run, but I had tied on my running shoes and headed for Sienna’s.

She’d handed me a water bottle I had downed in one go, then watched me pace across her porch. Sienna and I had known each other since, well, I didn’t even remember meeting her, that was how long ago it was. Me showing up here, hot, stressed, and pacing, wasn’t anything to get her worried over just yet.

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on or wear a groove in my porch first?”

I shot her a glare, which only made her giggle, then clutched at my sweat-soaked hair.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I hissed with each step.

“Context, buddy. Are those good fucks or bad fucks?”

I’d cooled off enough and plopped down on the swing beside her. The thing was probably older than we were. We used to try to flip it as we swung higher and higher; now, the thing groaned like an old man just with me adding my weight to it.

“Bad ones,” I huffed.

Sienna locked her phone and set it down on top of the book she had resting by her bare feet. She brought both hands up, palms facing her, and wiggled her fingers. “Hit me with it.”

“Sam’s son arrived today.”

“Ahhhh.” She nodded. “So he’s a dick?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“And you’ve already lost me. I thought you were grudgingly forced to be okay with this new brother.”

“Stepbrother. Sort of. I mean, who is this guy? He’s never made much effort to be around Sam before. And what? Now he just shows up out of the blue, and I’m supposed to be happy about it?”

Sienna rolled her eyes. So maybe it was the same argument I’d had when Momma first told me the news. But that didn’t make it any less valid.

“So he arrived.” She rolled her hand for me to continue. “What made you run all the way to my house in the late-afternoon sun? It’s got to be one hundred out right now with 90 percent humidity.”

“He’s …” How the fuck could I say this? A few years back, I had sort of admitted to being a bit confused to Sienna. The confusion was really only in how to accept it because I’d been lying to myself all this time. I liked guys. I was into guys. I wanted to hold out hope for being bi, but it was hard to believe my shit anymore. “You know.”

Sienna snorted. “No, I don’t know, Wren. ’Splain this shit.”

I narrowed my eyes at my best friend. She’d had the misfortune of growing up around nothing but guys in the neighborhood. Sienna was cute. Like, probably hot. Petite, blonde, adorable. I’d heard more than one guy at our school say how envious they were of me for being so close with her. And most of them said I had to be “hittin’ that.” Their words, not mine. She played the part of the girlie cheerleader to appease what others thought of her, and like me, she had this other side she didn’t share with everyone. The side that cursed like a sailor, was smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for, and was driven like a dog with a bone.

“Maybe you just need to meet him,” I finally said, chickening out.

“Okay.” She stood and dusted off the seat of her overall shorts. “Come on.”

“Not now, you dork.” I tugged her back to the swing while she laughed.

“Fine. Fine,” she said through giggles. “But if I have to wait to know the answer to this”—she waved over me—“then I’m gonna need you to push pause on it. I can’t have my BFF being all whatever this is for any longer without my weighing in. And you know I can’t weigh in until I have all the facts.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Why did I agree to be your best friend? Guys are so much easier.”

“Because I didn’t give you a choice, Wren Bailey Wilkerson,” she snapped.

I wiped a warm hand over my already overly warm face and groaned. “Ugh. Okay. Okay. Fuck. I’ll get over it.”

She sat up straight and gave me a crisp nod. “See how much help I am? A stupid boy can’t do that for you.”

I clamped my hand over her head and shook her with it. She fought me off until I relented and let go. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, get off my porch unless you’re staying for supper.”

I slouched back even as she jumped to her feet and picked up her book, phone, and a half-full glass of tea. “I wish I could. Momma would skin my balls if I ditched out on Tate’s first night.”

“Ew. Don’t mention your balls when I’m about to go eat. And seriously, what are you doin’ here?” She tried to kick my butt as I stood and dodged around her. “Your momma’s gonna have your hide anyway for this little outin’. Now, go home.”

“Jesus. Yes, ma’am.”

The run home took a little longer because I wasn’t as hell-bent on returning as I had been getting away. The sun had maybe another hour before it set, and I had probably twenty minutes before Momma sent out a search party for me. There was no way I was missing supper tonight.

I rushed up the stairs, showered in cold water, then redressed in yet another clean shirt and shorts before heading back downstairs to be present and visible.

Even with my eyes focused straight ahead, as if I had blinders on, I noticed him. Tate. He quietly talked with Momma about something as I passed them in the kitchen. I rushed through and headed for the back door. His presence left a blind spot in my vision like the sun, even though I hadn’t fully glanced at him. Quick! Get away before you can’t stop yourself from taking a peek!

“Oh, Wren.”

Fuck. So close. “Ma’am?” I turned to Momma. Tate grinned from behind her as if he knew I didn’t wanna be in the same room with him. Okay, maybe that was my paranoia.

“I was tellin’ Tate about the back-to-school party that boy who lives near the lake puts on every year. Cody, right? He still doin’ those?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am. He usually does one. I think he’s planning one this year too.”

“I thought so. You should take Tate so he can meet some kids y’alls age. You know, introduce him around.” She gestured with her oven mitt around the room.

“Uh, yeah, um, maybe, if I go.” Parties were not my thing, but Sienna usually guilted me into going to that one as her bodyguard. Which was just funny. She’d throw a punch well before I would.

“Wren.” Momma’s tone dropped to a warning. For what, I wasn’t sure exactly. She widened her eyes, silently saying something I couldn’t figure out. I wished she’d stop making me guess and come out with it.

“I like parties,” Tate said.

As if he controlled my body, my eyes lifted from Momma to meet his. The green twinkled when his grin ticked. He leaned against the counter with a butter knife in hand, helping Momma slather icing on a tray of cookies. His thin frame totally worked for him, but I tried my damnedest not to let my gaze roam over it. Not sure I succeeded.

Tate darted his gaze to the back of Momma’s head, then to me, and then he snapped up a cookie and shoved it into his mouth without a sound. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to high-five him. I wanted to scream at him for being too fucking cute about it.

Instead, I scowled and pushed my way out the back door. The wooden edge around the screen beat against the frame with a loud clap that made Sam turn around.

“Need any help?” I asked as I skipped down the stairs like my ass was on fire.

Sam glanced at the sky, then back at me. “Stop the rain. That’d help.”

“I’ll get on it.”

The clouds over our heads were the big, fluffy ones that kinda looked like something exploded somewhere and filled the sky with shades of gray. Yeah, it was definitely gonna rain at some point tonight. Shocker.

Sam eyed around the patio. “I’m thinking about extending the deck.”

I nodded. “Solid plan.”

“Tate inside with your momma?”

“Yes, sir. They’re making cookies.”

Sam smirked. “They’re for his birthday. I told you it was two days ago, right?”

“You mentioned it.” Every year.

“This’ll be a big change for you. You’ve been an only kid all your life.”

Very true. I didn’t even have cousins close in age. “It’s okay.” I wasn’t sure if I even needed to weigh in on it. It was happening, or had happened, no matter what I thought about it. I’d be a spoiled brat to pitch a fit, and I definitely wasn’t that.

Sam stepped closer and dipped his head a bit. “I don’t know all the details yet, but he’s been through some stuff. Just watch out for him, okay?” he said softly.

I tucked my head back and lowered my brows. Like, babysit his hot ass? No way. I’d go insane for sure.

Sam straightened and refocused on cleaning the grill. “He’s his own man, eighteen, like you’re ’bout to be. And I don’t mean hold his hand or some shit.” Sam lifted his cap, ran a hand through his full head of hair, then adjusted it back in place. “Just, hell, I dunno.”

I certainly didn’t know either. “Um, okay,” I said anyway.

I’d call it a miracle, but I was pretty sure God was messing with me. We got through supper out on the patio without a rumble of thunder, so Momma, Sam, and Tate went swimming afterward. Couldn’t even count on the weather to give me a break.

Momma kept pushing to get me to go in with them. That was never happening, not with Tate out here too. Sam tried to get her to stop, which I appreciated, but she kept giving me dirty looks because I wasn’t joining in on the family fun. It probably got worse when I pulled out my phone, but I stopped glancing her way to know for sure.

With the phone as a partial distraction, my attention only darted from it to Tate. Watching him was a bad idea, but like a train wreck, I couldn’t help but do it. He may have been on the thin side, but he had definition. With no shirt or chest hair to buffer my view, I had the painful pleasure of gawking at his sculpted pecs and the lines of his ribs when he stretched. Even pale, he was beautiful. A statue carved to my personal preference.

His abs weren’t the most cut I’d ever seen—only had to check the mirror for that—but they fit him. The shadows around all six begged my tongue to trace them. Even the V under his obliques was defined for me to obsess over.

Too perfect. All hard lines and smooth skin, but he looked hungry, like someone I kinda wanted to protect. No matter how hard I told myself to stop staring, my mind couldn’t focus enough to pull it off, going nuts over every half inch he moved.

Tate tossed out shy smiles at Momma and Sam. Then he’d glance at me with a smirk like it was all an act. Fucking hell, he confused me. Or maybe I didn’t know how to read people. Sienna would probably agree with that. More than once, she’d told me girls were checking me out, but I never saw what she did.

I stayed at the patio table. My knees were spread wide because even though night was closing in and I wasn’t doing shit, sweat trickled down my balls. Half my brainpower was spent trying to cool the semi in my shorts. The other half seemed to wanna heat it up. I could only hope that after a few days, I’d be used to Tate being around, and this uncomfortable infatuation would end.

And my new stepbrother wasn’t making this easy. Every so often, he’d dip under the surface and come back up, playing out in slow-mo porn right in my backyard as I worked my damnedest to keep my jaw from dropping and my lungs from panting. Once, he flicked his hair out of his eyes and sent water spraying all over. I felt it in my gut. Then, he smoothed his hair back with long fingers trailing down his neck and shoulders. I felt that one decidedly lower.

Gnashing my teeth and keeping my growl to myself, I sat up, elbows on my knees, and scrolled through Insta. Sienna wanted to be a photographer, like, for calendars or something, and she filled her profile with some amazing shit. Today, she’d uploaded a mass of pictures from the cemetery. How she could make images of crumbling gravestones into art was beyond me.

“That’s sick.”

I snapped my head up. Tate, dripping with tracks of water and making my fingertips itch to follow them, stared down at my screen. I turned it off and plopped my phone on the table.

“Yeah. Sienna. She’s our age. She’s my best friend. You’ll meet her.” Stop rambling .

Tate grinned and reached for his towel. “You don’t swim?”

“Nah.”

“Why?”

I blinked. Nope. Not giving him that. Ignoring the question, I stood so quickly it could’ve come off a bit aggressive. For one, I wanted to see how much taller I was. And two, I kinda wanted him to back the fuck off.

Only he didn’t.

I had maybe two inches on him, so he was six feet at least. Even as he tipped his chin, he still managed to stare me down. Then he smirked. How did he do that? How was he the new kid and I felt like the uncomfortable, out-of-place one?

“What’s up, Wren ?”

I couldn’t place his tone. Mocking, or heated, or just confused like me. Then it didn’t matter because his eyes twitched. It wasn’t much, but he’d checked out my scar, all up close and personal. I brushed past him.

“Thanks for the food, Sam.”

Momma and Sam stared at me from where they stood together in the pool.

“Don’t forget your phone,” Tate said cheerfully.

Fuck! I turned back, snatched it out of his hand, and stormed up the steps, tossing a garbled “happy belated birthday” over my shoulder.

I slammed the door to my room and plopped onto the bench behind my cello. Within seconds, I could breathe again as the music swirled around me.

Daddy had introduced me to classical music when I was a kid. He had loved music, all kinds, and I loved it too. Even more, I loved to play it. I was on my third cello because I outgrew them and played decently enough Momma kept investing in them. When we finally got an orchestra band teacher at school, he’d looked me up and down and asked why I wasn’t on the football team. What? Big guys couldn’t be into certain things?

I played until ten, then reluctantly stopped. Momma didn’t mind me playing late as long as the song was slow and mellow. I couldn’t do that. I could play mellow, but I couldn’t tell myself to only play mellow, not when I was really into it. Instead, I had an alarm set for ten every night, no matter if I played or not, just in case.

The house was quiet as I cleaned my bow and cello. I didn’t hear Tate head to his room and figured he was already there. I didn’t check, of course. Sleep claimed me before I’d even settled in bed. After the mentally exhausting day, that wasn’t surprising.

What was surprising was forgetting Tate existed the very next morning. I stumbled downstairs, rubbing my blurry eyes as I entered the kitchen, and choked on my yawn. Tate, impossibly more beautiful than all the memories of yesterday as they crashed between my ears, sat primly at the table.

“Mornin’, Wren,” Momma called as she pulled a plate down to fill with whatever she’d made.

“Hey, Momma.” I sniffed over her shoulder. Biscuits and gravy? Special day? Then I glanced at Tate. Oh, right. “Winning the city boy over with a country breakfast, Momma?”

“Breakfast is delicious, Winnie, thank you,” Tate said.

“You’re most welcome, Tate. Wren, be nice.”

Momma turned away from us, and Tate winked at me. The fuck?

I numbly accepted my plate and sat at the table. Our kitchen was huge with an area for a big table, where we ate unless it was a holiday or something. I took a seat at the opposite end to stay clear of Tate. I doubted I could get food in my mouth if he were too close, and I was starving.

Each bite he took was slow and deliberate. I knew this because everything he did was cataloged in my brain with a hot factor tag. Next to him, I was a pig in a trough, shoveling down everything in all haste, and barely stopped myself from licking the plate. If he hadn’t been here, I’d have done it.

“Wren, why don’t you show Tate around town today while you’re running errands for me? Y’all’re gonna have to get used to sharin’ a vehicle anyway.”

My fork clanged on my plate. “Momma, not my truck.” It hadn’t come out as a whine, at least, more like a bark.

Her brows rose in warning. I’d been bigger than her since I was thirteen, but she still put the fear of God in me with just a look.

“Things have changed around here, young man.”

Ugh, not the young man . My ears burned so hot I’d bet Tate could see them from a mile away.

“I don’t mind you driving me around.” Tate shrugged with something crossing his eyes I didn’t get. Hope? Anticipation?

“Fine.” I washed off my plate and put it in the dishwasher and was chugging OJ when Tate did the same with his while eyeing me with yet another expression I couldn’t read. I’d swear he could run a full circle of emotions in under twenty seconds.

“Do you wanna see your new town?” I asked and was pleased with all the dripping sweetness of Southern charm in my tone.

Tate’s lips screwed into a smirk. “Yeah, sounds like fun.”