Page 39 of From the Wreckage

Everett

The Timberline is loud enough to drown out my thoughts, which is half the reason I agreed to come. A live band plays in the corner, couples two-step on the sticky floor, and laughter echoes from every booth.

Grayson and Tom sit across from me, each with a beer in hand. We’ve been playing pool most of the night.

Tom’s phone rings, and he holds up his hand and points to the door.

When he returns, he tells us he’s heading out because Anita’s shift ended early.

Grayson nods toward the waitress. “One more?”

I nod, my eyes moving to my beer.

Then—like he’s just tossing it out there—he asks, “You ever been married?”

My grip on the bottle tightens. A loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. I shake my head, keeping my tone neutral. “Nope. You?”

A wry chuckle rumbles out of him. “Once. Twelve years ago.” He doesn’t look at me, just fiddles with his beer bottle, his fingers restless. “Didn’t end well.”

I don’t push. Silence usually does the work for me.

“She left,” he finally says, his voice flat. “My ex. Just… left. No fight. No big blowout. Just a note on the counter, saying she was done. Left Bri with a neighbor we barely knew.”

My brows snap together. “A neighbor?”

He nods. “A woman who’d moved in two weeks before. Someone my ex had talked to maybe twice. And she left our nine-year-old little girl crying on that stranger’s couch.”

The image slams into me. Bri, nine years old, terrified, hoping her mom or dad would come back for her.

“Christ,” I mutter.

“Yeah.” He lets out a long breath. “I saw red. Didn’t even remember taking the steps across the yard. Found Bri clutching her stuffed rabbit, tears streaking her face, asking where I’d been. Thought I’d abandoned her, too.”

My throat tightens.

“She had nightmares for months. Panic attacks. Couldn’t let me out of her sight.

That’s when I decided we needed out. A clean break.

” He takes a pull of his beer, staring past me like he’s back in that moment.

“Found the cabin in Silverpine. Needed work, but it was quiet. Safe. That was all that mattered.”

I study him across the table. Most people see easy charm when they look at Grayson—steady smile, quick laugh, always ready to help a buddy out. But beneath it, there’s steel. He’s a man who’s been gutted and rebuilt around a single purpose: protecting his daughter.

“You never remarried?” I ask carefully.

He shakes his head, lips curving into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Nah. Dated some, nothing serious. My priority was Bri. Still is, even now that she’s older. After what her mom did? That kind of betrayal doesn’t just disappear. It stays with you. Changes you.”

The words hit like a hammer. Still is. His daughter. His life.

I look away, acid churning in my stomach. I’ll never be good enough for Bri. I’m a broken, ruined man.

And here I am—sneaking kisses in shadows, pulling her into my bed, marking her as mine. Something he’ll never forgive me for if he finds out.

I take a long swallow of beer, hoping it’ll cool the guilt clawing up my throat.

But it doesn’t.

Because no matter how good of a man Grayson is… I’m not.

Later that night, I’m inside my cabin, drowning in the silence.

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the necklace box I kept, the empty space where the sunflower pendant used to rest. The one that’s against her skin. Gracing my angel’s neck.

I shouldn’t have given it to her. I shouldn’t have kissed her. I sure as hell shouldn’t have been inside her.

But I did.

And the sad reality is, I’d do it again.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, her name lighting the screen.

Angel: Can’t sleep. Keep thinking about you.

My chest tightens. I drag a hand over my face, fighting the pull. I should ignore it. Let her fall asleep, let this burn out before it consumes us both.

Another buzz.

Angel: I miss you. So much.

Guilt is a vice, squeezing tighter around my ribs. Grayson trusts me. He sat across from me earlier, drinking beer, laughing like I belonged here. If he knew what I’d done with his daughter, he’d put a bullet between my eyes. And I’d fucking deserve it.

And still, my thumbs move before I can stop them.

Me: You should sleep, angel.

Her reply comes fast.

Angel: Sleep won’t come without you. I keep wishing I was in your bed instead of mine.

I curse under my breath, my hand fisting at my thigh. Christ, she’s going to be the death of me.

Me: You’re playing with fire.

The three dots bounce, and my resistance thins even more.

Angel: Then let me burn. Dad’s going to bed. I can sneak over in twenty. Will you let me?

I shut my eyes, battling myself. Every reason to say no roars through me—her father, my past, the danger I’ll drag her into just by letting this go on.

But the image of her sneaking across the trail, the moonlight catching on her hair as she makes her way to me… It unravels everything.

My fingers hover over the screen, trembling, before I finally type what I swore I wouldn’t.

Me: Door will be unlocked. See you soon.

When the dots disappear and the screen goes dark again, I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, dragging in a ragged breath.

Guilt still gnaws at me. But underneath it, stronger, louder, undeniable—is something else. Anticipation.

I hang my head, knowing this won’t end well, but still powerless to resist the allure of her.

Every part of me screams that I should stop this. That I should walk across the lake to Grayson’s place right now, confess everything, and let him beat the hell out of me if that’s what it takes to end this.

But then I remember the look in her eyes when she whispered she was mine. The way her body trembled under my hands, trusting me, wanting me.

I sigh, the truth slapping me in the face. I’ll never be strong enough to turn her away. Not when she’s already carved herself into every breath, every thought, every goddamn heartbeat I have left.

So I sit in the silence, my muscles tight, every tick of the clock dragging me closer to her footsteps on my porch.

Closer to ruin. Closer to her.

The minutes crawl by, each one heavier than the last.

I pace the cabin, my jaw tight, my hands restless, telling myself this is the last time. The last secret. The last night I let her undo me like this.

But I’m a liar.

Because when my phone buzzes, I don’t hesitate.

Angel: On my way.

My chest seizes, then loosens in the same breath. The guilt digs in deeper, but so does the need.

I don’t reply. I don’t trust what I’d say.

I react to her message with a heart, then wait.

Twenty minutes feel like a lifetime.

Then I hear three soft knocks against my door.

I freeze, my pulse slamming against my ribs.

I drag a hand down my face as I move. Grabbing the doorknob, I pull it open.

And there she is.

Her hair’s down, tumbling around her shoulders. She’s in a loose hoodie that hits mid-thigh, her legs bare, her eyes glittering in the dark like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“Hi,” she whispers, her lips curving, almost shy, but not enough to hide the heat behind her eyes.

Something in me breaks.

I don’t even bother answering. I just haul her inside, slam the door shut, and kiss her.

It’s not gentle or careful. It’s raw need and pent-up hunger, all my restraint unraveling in seconds.

I press her back against the wall. My mouth devours hers as she whimpers into me, her fingers fisting in my shirt. I’m drowning, and she’s the only thing keeping me afloat.

“Angel,” I rasp against her lips, my forehead pressed to hers. “You’re gonna destroy me.”

She smiles, wicked and sweet, tugging me closer. “Then let me.”

Her hoodie’s bunched in my fists before I even realize I’ve grabbed it. She gasps into my mouth as I shove it higher, my hands skimming hot skin. The sound wrecks me.

“Everett,” she breathes, tugging at my sweats like she can’t stand a single barrier between us. “Please…”

That single word undoes me.

I hook my hands beneath her thighs and lift. She wraps around me instantly, her legs locking tight at my waist. I stumble us toward the couch, our mouths never breaking. The second I drop into the cushions with her straddling me, it’s chaos.

Her hoodie hits the floor. My sweats follow. She’s already wet for me, slick and desperate as she grinds against me through the thin scraps of her cotton panties.

“Goddamn, angel,” I rasp, my head falling back as she rocks harder, her nails clawing down my shoulders. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She leans in, her lips brushing mine. “Then die with me.”

I roll her over onto her back, then push her panties aside. I slide into her in one hard thrust. Her cry rips through the room, muffled when my mouth swallows it in a bruising kiss.

I’m frantic. Needy. Each time I slide inside her wetness, it’s a clash of want and desperation. She clings to me, gasping my name between kisses, her pussy taking my cock like it was made for this.

The rhythm builds fast. Her hips buck against mine. My grip on her waist is bruising, but I can’t stop. The sound of us fills the cabin: ragged breaths, frantic whispers, the wet slap of skin.

“I can’t—Everett—” she gasps, breaking against me, trembling apart in my arms.

“That’s it, angel. Soak my cock.”

She pulses around me, her pussy squeezing me like a vice.

I squeeze my eyes closed, but I can’t stop. I follow her over the edge with a guttural groan, my body shaking, my release pulsing deep inside her.

For a long, shuddering moment, we cling together, her damp forehead pressed to mine. My hands still gripping her like I’ll never let go.

Finally, I rasp, broken and undone, “You’ll be the end of me, angel.”

She smiles faintly, still catching her breath. “Then we’ll go down together.”