Page 22 of Duress (Birch Falls #3)

EVERLY

T he smell of frying bacon wakes me up from the deepest sleep I have had in weeks.

I sit up, momentarily disoriented by my unfamiliar surroundings.

After Dane and I…made love? Had sex? Fucked up everything in the most dramatic and irrevocable way?

He carried me upstairs to his bed, tucked us both in, and held me while I fell apart.

He thought I was crying over the death of my marriage.

I was really crying over how I am the worst fucking person in the world for giving in to my selfish wants, and how much he will hate me if he ever finds out the truth I’ve been keeping from him.

The shrill whistle of the tea kettle shatters the tense silence of the dimly lit kitchen.

I’ve been standing at the counter, head down, trying to calm my racing thoughts while Bryce showers.

He didn’t say a word the whole way home.

Just stared pensively out the window, one leg bouncing violently, while he clutched one of my hands in his.

He said he would explain when we got home, but instead, he said he needed to shower and walked off to our bedroom.

As I take the kettle off the burner to pour some sleepy time tea, my gut churns with a nervous feeling, while my mind tries to process what could have happened that lead to him being on the side of the road in the dark.

Warm arms wrap around me from behind startling me, causing my hands to release the mug of tea I had just poured. Nearly boiling water splashes onto my hands when it lands in a thud on the counter. “Fuck!” I scream, shaking my hand in pain.

“Shit, baby! I’m sorry!” Bryce jumps into action, turning the faucet on cold, pulling my hand under the frigid stream of water, soothing the burn.

When he looks at me, there are tears in his eyes, mirroring my own.

“I’m so sorry baby. I thought you heard me.

” His face is unusually pale, the angry red gash on his forehead peeks out from behind the wet clump of hair that fell over his brow.

Bryce is shirtless, a diagonal belt shaped bruise in vibrant shades of purple, red and black, crosses left to right, shoulder to hip. Oh god, he was in an accident .

“Bryce, are you okay? What happened?” I cup his face, the pain from the burn forgotten.

Bryce returns the gesture, cupping my face gently as he leans in, pressing his forehead to mine. “I fucked up, baby. I fucked up bad.” Wetness drips down my cheek, and I realize it’s not my tears but his.

“Tell me what happened, Bryce. You’re scaring me.” My husband is always so calm and collected. I’ve never seen him rattled. He will face the toughest judge without flinching and defend even the hardest clients.

“There…there was an accident. Jake’s dead.”

“Good morning gorgeous.” Dane climbs up the stairs, interrupting my guilt spiral down memory lane, carrying a tray loaded with two plates full of scrambled eggs and bacon and two glasses of juice.

My heart seizes when I take in his rumpled, sexy appearance.

He’s shirtless, just wearing the same gray joggers from last night.

His hair is mussed, sticking up in every direction, and his usual two-day stubble has started more closely resembling a beard.

But it’s the smile he’s sporting that causes my heart to stop beating.

It’s so open and relaxed and…happy. Like I gave him the best gift in the world last night.

A sick feeling rolls through my stomach.

“You made breakfast?” I sit, stunned as he places the tray next to me on the bed. Dane plants a kiss on my forehead before taking one of the plates for himself. I can’t remember the last Bryce did something as mundane as bring me breakfast in bed.

“I don’t know about you, but I worked up a hell of an appetite last night.

” His green eyes sparkle as he winks at me.

Memories from the previous night flash through my mind.

Dane eating me out on the couch until I squirted on his face, then fucking me so well I forgot my name.

Him carrying me into his bathroom where he did it all again, that time fucking me against the shower tiles until I was hoarse from screaming his name.

I’m pretty sure there was one more lazy round of sexy spooning in the middle of the night when I wasn’t fully awake, but I’m not entirely sure if that one was real or a dream.

I am gloriously sore in all the best ways.

Tears spring to my eyes as I take in the spread for me. Eggs, bacon, and toast. So simple. But it represents something I haven’t had in a very long time. Someone that wants to take care of me.

“Hey, hey, I know it’s not much. I know I’m a terrible cook, but?—”

I cut him off with a kiss. I cradle his face in my hands and kiss him with every fiber of my being, trying to convey how much this simple gesture means to me.

I make a promise to him with this kiss. A promise only I know I’m making, but I will do whatever I must to keep it.

I promise to right the mistake I made all those years ago, when I didn’t turn Bryce in when he confessed to killing Jake.