Page 28 of From the Wreckage

Everett

Sleep is useless.

I’ve been pacing the length of my cabin since dawn, replaying every second of last night until the memories ache. The feel of her lips against mine. The way she whispered “I’m yours” like it was the truest thing she’d ever spoken.

It terrifies me. I don’t lose control like this—not anymore. I built walls around myself brick by brick, years of mistakes culminating into the trauma that unfolded, altering my life and teaching me what happens when you let someone in.

But Brielle… she slipped right through the cracks.

And now I can’t stop. Can’t stop seeing her. Can’t stop needing her.

I scrub a hand over my jaw, restless, unsettled, and more alive than I’ve felt in years.

My phone buzzes, vibrating across the counter. My heart jolts when I see her name.

Angel: Can I see you tomorrow?

The unease in my chest evaporates, replaced with something I don’t dare name. My thumb moves before my brain can catch up.

Me: Yeah. Anytime you want.

A sigh leaves me, sharp and shaky, like I’ve been underwater too long and finally broke the surface. God help me, I should’ve hesitated. I should’ve put distance between us. Instead, I feel like I’ve been given oxygen.

Another buzz pulls me from my thoughts. This time, it’s Grayson.

Grayson: Hey, you busy? Could use a hand with a project around the cabin.

I stare at the screen, a low curse in my throat. He has no idea what he’s asking. No idea how dangerous it is for me to be around his daughter.

But the truth is, I’d never say no. Not to him. Not when it means I get to see her.

Me: Sure. I can come by today.

Grayson: You sure? It’s Sunday.

Me: I’m good if you are.

Grayson: Great. Appreciate it, man.

I hesitate only a second before typing the message.

Me: What time do you want me there?

Grayson: 11:00 work? Bri and I are having breakfast.

My chest tightens. The thought of her just across the lake right now makes my pulse trip.

Me: Works for me. See you at 11:00.

I drop my phone onto the counter and brace my palms beside it, my head hanging low.

I should stay the hell away. Put space between us before I wreck us both.

But instead, I’m going to walk straight into his cabin. Straight toward her. Straight into the fire I swore I’d never touch again.

And this time, I don’t think I have it in me to resist burning alive.

By the time I park my truck in Grayson’s driveway, the sun is blazing and the lake lies still, glittering like glass. Grayson waves me around back, already pulling tools from his shed.

“Appreciate this, Everett,” he says, clapping my shoulder. “Figured I’d start replacing a few boards on the deck before they rot clean through.”

I nod, reaching for the toolbox. “Happy to help.”

The door creaks open, and my attention zeroes in on her.

She steps onto the deck, her dark hair loose and wild, a bikini clinging to every curve. My chest seizes, heat flooding my veins. She drops into a chair with a grin, sliding on her sunglasses like she’s settling in to watch a show.

“I’m supervising,” she teases, kicking her feet up on the rail. She uncaps a bottle of sunscreen, and damn if I don’t imagine my hands smoothing it over her skin.

Grayson snorts. “Some help you are.”

I force my expression neutral, grateful for my own sunglasses shielding my eyes. Because there’s no way in hell I can stop looking at her.

And she knows it.

Every time her dad’s back is turned, she sends me a flirty little smile. The way she stretches against the chair, sunlight sliding over her curves, is temptation in its purest form.

I wrench my gaze away, gripping the hammer tighter than necessary.

God help me, if I’m not careful, I’m going to give myself away.

An hour passes in a haze of sawdust, sweat, and Grayson muttering about angles. The hammering should ground me, but every time I feel her eyes on me, my restraint frays thinner. When I glance up, she maintains eye contact before looking away.

It’s killing me.

“I’m gonna grab us some water,” Bri calls, standing and stretching. The move is innocent enough, but my chest tightens anyway.

Grayson nods absently. “Get Everett one too, would you?”

“Of course.” She winks at me before disappearing inside.

I keep working, telling myself I imagined the lingering sway of her hips—until a soft voice cuts through the heat. “Everett.”

I look up. She’s leaning against the corner of the cabin, half-hidden from where her dad’s crouched over a board, three bottles of water in hand. She tips her head toward the shaded side of the deck.

I drop the hammer, wipe my palms on my jeans, and mutter, “Gotta use the restroom,” before striding through the cabin and out the front door.

She presses a bottle into my hand, her fingers brushing mine. The air crackles.

Her voice drops, barely above a whisper. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m not going to make it through the afternoon.”

My jaw clenches, the bottle slick in my grip. “Angel, you think this is easy for me? You step out here looking like that, and I’m…” My eyes drag down her body before I force them back up. “…I’m one second from losing it.”

Her lips curve into a dangerous smile. Then—just to wreck me—she trails a fingertip down my bare chest. “Maybe I like you losing it.”

That’s it.

The water bottle slips from my hand as I back her against the cabin, my body caging hers. The bottles of water in her hands hit the ground. Her breath catches the second my mouth crashes onto hers.

The kiss is hard, hungry, and desperate. She tastes like heat and trouble, her hands fisting in my hair, tugging me closer. The little whimper she makes nearly ends me.

“Christ, Bri,” I rasp against her lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Good,” she breathes, kissing me harder. “Because I’m already gone.”

I groan, devouring her mouth, my hand cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing her soft skin. She’s everything I swore I wouldn’t let myself have again, and yet I’m helpless—every nerve in my body screaming to claim her right here, consequences be damned.

And for one reckless heartbeat, I forget her father is just on the other side of the wall.

I tear away, my forehead pressing to hers, both of us gasping. My chest heaves, guilt and hunger warring inside me.

“Angel,” I whisper, my voice raw, “we can’t… not here. Not with your dad right there.”

Her eyes blaze, lips swollen and glistening. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, stealing one more kiss before forcing myself to step back, “that’s the problem.”

She presses the bottle into my hand like nothing happened, then grabs the other two bottles of water. She’s smirking behind her sunglasses when we step back into the sunlight.

Grayson is still bent over his work, oblivious to what just happened.

But me? I’m ruined.

Completely, utterly ruined by his daughter.