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brITT

THIRD WHEEL

O pening my eyes to a brand-new day and perfect morning sunshine pouring through Jack’s open curtains, I smile at the broad chest beneath my cheek.

He’s home.

He wasn’t here when I fell asleep, but he’s here now, and he pulled me on top of him.

Stretching lazily, I press a kiss to his nipple – because it’s right there, right beneath my lips – and I luxuriate in this powerful, large, beautiful, tattooed body beneath mine. Running a hand across his chest, I trace his ink, then scratch my nails along his abs.

Even in his sleep, he smiles and breaks out in goosebumps at my touch.

With a light stubble – a stubble that always feels good on my neck, on my breasts, on my thighs – and a soft smile on his face, I let myself fall a little deeper in love. I didn’t know it was possible, but it’s happening anyway.

Pressing my lips to his muscled pecs, I take a peek at his face – eyes still closed, soft smile on his slack face – and continue kissing down his body.

I kiss his ribs, slowly moving down as his muscles flex under my lips. I love his body, but because I’m too cowardly to say the words out loud, I let my lips on his warm flesh show him my love, then my hands follow in their wake .

I kiss his stomach, each visible and defined ab, then his belly button. I lift the covers, and grin like a fool when I find him completely naked.

Running my tongue along the V his hips make, I watch his dick fill, and hold back my giggle at how easily men can be manipulated.

Murmuring nonsensically in his sleep, he draws closer to consciousness and has my breath coming faster. Minutes from now, he’ll be awake, and he’ll show his feelings with his lips, too.

Taking his dick in my hand, he groans as I squeeze it. Peeking up to his still closed eyes, I move forward, press my tongue to my bottom lip, and slide it over the tip. Tasting him again, I close my eyes at the pleasure and giddiness that swirls in my stomach.

I’ve finally got him back in front of me. In my hands. In the same bed.

I missed him so fucking much, it’s ridiculous.

Playing, I flick my tongue along the head. Taking him in my mouth and swallowing him all the way to the back of my throat, I rub my thighs together to ease the ache.

Tasting him turns me on.

Having him beneath me turns me on.

“I won’t.” He smacks his lips and has me looking up. I didn’t know he talked in his sleep.

Leaning back, I grin and watch his twitching eyes. “Are you awake yet?”

“I promise…” What does he pr– “I love you, Stephy.”

Instant revulsion scores through my blood and drains from my face as my stomach threatens to revolt and blow all over his room.

Shooting back from him like he kicked me, I scramble backwards and fall over my feet and the tangled blankets in my hurry to escape.

“Bambie?”

Freezing, my eyes snap to his.

Awake.

Finally awake.

His eyes are like molten lava, hot and dancing, and his smile is mischievous and happy. He has no clue he was just declaring his love for someone else.

The sheets sit at his waist – thank God – and covers his bottom half.

Bending over to collect my things, I clumsily tug a cotton tank over my head and catch my earring with the fabric.

“Hey. Where are you going?” Smiling, he throws his legs over the edge of the mattress and beckons me with a wolfish smile. “Come back to bed, Bambie. It’s still early, and I missed the fuck outta you. ”

My throat closes up, blocking my air, fortunately blocking the vomit that wants to explode at the thought of Jack mentioning Steph while I had my mouth wrapped around his dick.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, he stands and lets the sheet fall away from his strong body.

He’s been working extra hard for his upcoming fight. His body is more toned today than it was when we met, his muscles larger, his chest broader. He looks fucking incredible, but I simply want to spew everywhere.

“But I just got here, Bambie. I thought we could take the day off together.”

Maybe he should take the day to sit with Steph. “I can’t, sorry. I have to work.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“I have to grade papers.” I spin and pull on my pants. “I have to write up report cards.” I grab my shoes from beside Annie’s curious face. We don’t write report cards this early in the semester. “And Alex wants me home today for… stuff.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re going to hang out with your brother instead of me?”

“Sorry.” I pull my shoes on, fast – too fast – and stumble.

“But I’ve been waiting to see you all week,” he pleads.

He steps toward me, still naked, and takes my hands in his. I can smell him, masculine and sexy with a side of musky sweat. His pecs sit in front of my face, teasing me, tempting me.

I so desperately want to kiss his chest. I want to go back ten minutes, and I want him to not say her name.

“I’m sorry we got in late last night, Bambie. It wasn’t my fault. I would’ve flown the plane myself if I knew how. I would’ve run here if I could.”

I step back to give myself space, and when his face falls, when his eyes turn sad, I look away.

His pain is my pain.

“I’m sorry, I’ll text you.”

“Are you mad about the internet stuff? That other chick? I swear that’s not–”

“No, I’m not mad.” I’m sick. “I promise. I just had these plans today, and I expected you home last night.”

“It’s not my fault the flights were delayed!”

“I didn’t say it was. I’ve gotta go, okay?”

“No,” he presses. “It’s not okay. I want you to stay here. ”

“I can’t, I… work. Alex.”

“I want you to stay here, Brittany. I want you to choose me.”

And I want you to choose me!

Shaking my head, I turn and dart across his room. Whipping the door open, I make a run for it while he’s still naked and can’t chase. I fly down the stairs, skip past Jack’s oldest niece, and throw out a ‘sorry’ when I scare the crap out of her and send her jumping against the wall.

I swing past the kitchen and almost burst into tears at the sight of Kit at the fridge. She looks tired. I know she got home late, too, and now she’s up with her kids.

Smiling, she closes the fridge door and steps to her youngest daughter. “Morning, Britt. Want some coffee? I just put a pot on.”

“Open the gates.”

“Huh?”

I grab my bag from the table in the main entryway. “Open the gates for me, Kit!”

“Britt, wait–”

I swing the front door wide and run face first into Bobby’s broad chest. “Woah, slow down, skaterboi . What’s going on?”

Jumping back, a sob escapes my chest and almost has me folding in half. “Open the gates for me, Bobby.”

“Brittany, what’s the matt–”

“Bambie!” Jack’s voice booms from upstairs. Skidding along the landing in boxers and nothing else, his hair – shaggier than it was when I met him – hangs in confused eyes.

“Don’t let him chase me, Bobby. I’m begging you.” Turning, I dart away from the house before Jack sees me cry, and swinging into my car, I breathe out a shaky sob as the gates swing open.

Thank you, Bobby!

I race away without looking back, though I don’t miss Tina standing on her porch with her morning coffee, or Jim’s inquisitive eyes following me from his porch.

I barely escape before the tears of heartbreak and humiliation spill over and blind me.

I drive around town for an hour – around and around and around our small town – and I sob like a baby while my music blares, competing with the noise that bleeds from my chest.

I shouldn’t even be crying. This is bullshit!

Jack was my one-night-stand. He has a dead girlfriend that he never once said he wasn’t in love with. What the fuck did I expect ?

She can’t be erased from his memory.

I knew from the first time he told me about her that I couldn’t compete.

Pulling into a truck stop more than an hour after I left Jack screaming at the top of the stairs, I wipe my eyes with an old takeout napkin, and with shaking hands, find makeup in my handbag and work on making myself presentable to the public.

I do my eyes up dark like club-Britt. Anything to hide the tired bags, the bloodshot eyes. Anything to distract me from my misery.

My phone buzzes angrily from the passenger seat.

It’s Jack.

I can feel that it’s him, and I can feel his rage.

His name flashes on my screen and draws painful sobs up my chest. Each time I apply eyeliner, he screams at me some more and ruins my work.

I have to pull myself together.

He’s done nothing wrong, technically. He promised nothing. This is my own problem, not his.

I wait for the call to ring out, then I simply sit and stare at the black screen. I need to stop crying. Then I need to figure out how to explain why I’m a raging idiot.

How do I explain this morning’s escape and tears without looking like a total clinger idiot?

Fuck.

Starting my car and doing a U-turn, I merge back onto the I40 and head back toward town. I don’t slow when I pass the very site that Steph died. I don’t look at the wreath on the side of the road, or the sparkling glass that still lay scattered in the dirt.

I may as well go home, make good on my excuses, do some work and hang out with my brothers, so when Jack asks, I won’t have to lie.

Then once I’m done with my breakdown, I can go to him and pretend I’m still cool. That I’m not a clinger. That I won’t be a brat that demands attention over his dead girlfriend.

I already knew where this was going; a portion of Jack is better than none. There’s no heartbreak that’ll keep me from him, there’s nothing he can do to keep me away.

Like a glutton for punishment, I’ll keep going back, and every time he dreams of her, every time he speaks her name when he meant to say mine, I’ll close my trap and take another step into my own grave .

Even knowing it’ll one day kill me, I still willingly choose that over not having him at all.

It takes only thirty minutes before I roll into my driveway behind Scotch’s bike. Stepping out of my car and slamming the door, I head across the grass and let myself in the front door.

“Brat.” I jump at Alex’s gruff voice. The self-appointed security guard of my life, he steps into the hallway and folds his arms like I’m a criminal breaking into his house. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Jesus!” I smack his shoulder. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Lip twitching with humor, he rubs his arm. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were sneaking around.”

“Not sneaking.” I walk past him and head into the kitchen.

Dropping my handbag on the dining chair, I grit my teeth at the continued buzzing coming from my phone. Like a buzzing hive in my bag, it’s relentless as I try to ignore it and move to the coffee maker.

Stopping at the doorway and folding his arms, Alex watches me with a lifted brow. There’s a reason he’s chief around here. Not much gets past him.

“What’s going on, Brittany?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought your boyfriend was getting back to town last night.”

“He did.” I grab the milk from the fridge.

“So why are you here?”

“Because it’s the next day and I have work to do.”

“I just figured.” He crosses his ankles and settles in for the interrogation. “I didn’t expect you home for a while yet.”

Ignoring the incessant fucking phone, I turn with my fresh coffee and pretend my heart doesn’t ache. “Well, here I am. I have papers to mark, and I figured, haven’t seen you in a while, thought you’d like to hang out.”

He’s the cat. I’m the mouse. “You wanna hang out?” Reflexively, his hand drops to his hip. “Did he hurt you, Brat? I’ll kill him for you. I’ll make him go somewhere that nobody will ever find him.”

“No.” I let out a deep breath. “He’s fine. I just thought… I’ve been gone a lot. I wanted to spend time with yo–” I stop and grit my teeth at my vibrating bag. “We haven’t hung out in a while,” I push on. “I thought you’d like to see me. My mistake.”

His eyes narrow, and before I get a chance to intercept, he dives toward my bag and tosses my shit all over the table and floor in his search.

Tampons roll toward the fridge. My makeup bag is tossed to the counter. A hotel mint I don’t ever recall collecting lands on the tile .

Finding my phone, he glowers at the still flashing screen, and then meeting my eyes, he swipes and answers. “What?”

…

“This is Alex.”

…

“What do you want, Reilly?”

…

“Yeah she’s here. What did you do?”

…

His eyes narrow. “So why won’t she take your call?”

…

Alex’s eyes meet mine. “No, you’re not invited. We’re hanging out today. Family only.”

…

“Yeah, okay. Bye, asshole.”

“Alex.” I step forward and snatch my phone away. “You didn’t have to call him an asshole.”

“Why not? He called me an asshole.”

“When?”

“Just then!”

Shaking my head, I look to the floor and hide my grin. “Why’d he call you an asshole?”

“Because I wouldn’t put you on the phone.”

“That’s mean, X.”

“Mean? You were blatantly ignoring his calls! Did you want me to pass the phone over?”

“No.”

“So, explain how I’m the bad guy here?”

Checkmate . “I dunno, X. I just wanna stay mad at you. It makes me feel better.”

Stepping forward and taking my hot coffee, he sets it on the counter and takes me in his arms. A reminder of this morning’s heartbreak washes through my chest until I choke on a sob.

“Talk to me, honey. I can’t shoot him till you tell me why. I need probable cause.”

“I don’t want you to shoot him.” I press my make-up smudged face against my big brother’s soft cotton shirt and hold on.

His chest is so broad. He’s always been so much bigger than me. So mature, so grown-up.

He walked me to class every single day when I was little. He’d collect me at the end of the day and carry my bag home. He had his own friends, the big guys who wanted to ride bikes or kiss girls, especially Oz, the loud man-whore, but every day, Alex chose me, instead.

I can’t even be mad at him for what he said to Jack at dinner. It’s just who he is; my protector. Asking about Steph was mean, but he has no regrets.

“What happened, honey? Tell me?”

I shake my head, blatantly wiping my runny nose against his shirt. “Nothing happ–”

“I know he’s been away, and you sure as shit were excited for him to come home. So, what happened between yesterday and today?”

“Nothing.”

“Did he mess around with girls while he was away? Did he get into trouble with the law?” With a hand on my jaw, he draws my tearful eyes up. “I need you to give me answers.”

“He did nothing, X. I just…” I sigh. “I’m out of my depth.”

“How so?” Pressing his lips on my forehead, he brushes my hair back the way he did when I was six and needed an escort across the school yard. “He’s the luckiest piece of shit in the world, Britt, since he’s got you making the freaky googley eyes at him. If he doesn’t know that, then he’s an idiot.”

I guess maybe he’s an idiot, then. Or maybe I am.

“Woah!” Scotch’s worry cuts through the kitchen. “What the hell’s going on?” He takes my arm and pulls me against his chest. “Who do we have to kill? What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“I think Reilly’s fucking around on her.”

“He what?”

“No.” I groan and kick out at Alex. “He did not, so stop.”

Several sets of arms wrap around me and Scotch, and in an instant, I’m surrounded by a group hug of band members and a collective ‘awww’ that makes me smile, despite my crappy mood.

They’re a bunch of idiots. Fuckboys. Smartasses at best, pests at worst, and yet, their hug helps squish my heart back together for a few minutes while I work on coming to terms with the fact my boyfriend is in love with someone else.

A couple hours later, a jug of coffee, a few more hugs, and several unanswered texts from Jack, I find myself sitting on the front porch swing with Luc and Bowser, while I pick at the label on a cold beer and sit in silence.

I was never told one way or the other, but Luc’s allowed back at our house again, which means he and the guys have taken their beef ‘to the yard.’ They’ve had a beatdown not unlike how the Kincaids do it… but not as skilled.

Luc’s quieter now. He doesn’t openly flirt as much as he used to. But he’s back in our house, and hasn’t been kicked out of the band; probably because he’s – one of – the best drummer and songwriter’s we’ve ever known.

I’ll call that a success.

“You look sad today.” Swinging in the silence, Luc’s electric blue eyes watch me. Birds sing, and the leaves rustle. Bowser snores like a chainsaw, but other than that, it’s a perfectly silent Saturday. With my arms wrapped about my legs and my chin resting on my knees, I glance to my left and watch Luc peel the label off his beer.

I shrug. “Not sad. It’s just another day.”

Rolling the label, he grins. “Liar, liar.”

“What happened between you and my brothers after I threw you under the bus?”

“Nothing.”

Turning my head and resting it on my knees, I scratch Bowser’s ears. “Liar, liar.”

He laughs. “Whatever. It’s men’s business.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“What’s got you sad?”

I shrug. “Girl’s business, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stubborn ass.”

Relentlessly, he picks at the beer label.

He’s sad, too. But he’ll talk about his about as willingly as I’ll talk about mine. So instead, we sit together in silence and pretend no one is sad.

My phone vibrates time and time again, but I don’t check it. I’ve lost count of the missed calls and texts.

So many.

Too many.

I was so mad, so sad, so heartbroken this morning. But now, I just feel bad for ditching Jack the way I did. I created a giant deal about something I can never explain.

I could explain it, but the fear of humiliation and rejection clamps my lips closed. I’ll never tell him.

“Are you and my brothers okay?”

Luc nods lazily. “Yeah. It was a little tense, but we’re okay now.”

“I’m sorry for what I did. I was so mad at Alex, I used you to piss him off. But everything that happened between us, you and me…” I shake my head. “It was dumb. It was my fault. Well, mine and Hennessy.”

He laughs. “It’s whatever, Brat. I’m a big boy. You didn’t rape me.”

“I kinda did.”

He snorts at old memories.

“I didn’t mean to drop you in the shit. I wanted to hurt X.”

“Well, it worked,” he laughs. “It’s okay, babe. I have bigger problems than the guys right now, and I’ll always forgive you. Friends for life, right?”

I nod. “Right.”

“So, you and Jack Reilly…”

Biting my bottom lip, I nod and try not to sigh at what I might’ve messed up. “Yeah. Me and Jack.”

“He’s a fuckboy.”

I laugh at the irony. “I think maybe you guys don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

He was a man whore after Steph died, but he was with her for seven years before that. He doesn’t have a problem with fidelity – when it’s with the right girl.

The problem simply lies in the fact that the right girl died. Now that she’s gone, all bets are off.

“You trust him?”

“Do I trust him not to cheat? Yeah, he’s loyal to a fault.” So fucking loyal, he’s still in love with Steph. He always will be.

“He treats you well?”

“Yeah, Luc. He’s a good guy.”

Scooting along the bench seat that Marc built forever ago, Luc settles close beside me and throws an arm around my shoulders. Pulling me close until my face rests on his chest and his lips in my hair, he holds me together and doesn’t mention the sob that escapes my throat.

“I like him, Britt. I always did. I’ve known him a long time. Before…” he coughs awkwardly, “you know. And after. The time he was fucking around with girls, that wasn’t him. ”

“I know.”

“You like him?”

Nodding, I close my eyes and squeeze a lone tear past my lashes. “Tell you a secret, Luc?”

He kisses my brow. “Sure.”

“Promise not to tell anyone? Not the girls, not the guys.”

“Are you in danger?”

Only my heart. “Nah.”

“You break the law?”

“If I did, you’d be right up there on my list of people to call. You’d help me hide the body.”

He laughs into my hair. “True. Keep me on speed dial, just in case.”

I nod.

“Tell me your secret, babe. I won’t tell a soul.”

I sigh and burrow against his large chest. “I love him.”