Page 11 of Let it Sizzle (Playing with Fire #3)

Levi

The second I see Byron’s face, my whole body goes tight.

He’s not just angry. He’s wrecked.

And it guts me, because I know exactly what this must look like to him.

Me—his best friend—grinding against his little sister like I’ve been hiding in the shadows, waiting to pounce.

Which isn’t true. But fuck if it doesn’t feel like it might be.

"Byron—" I start, my voice low, trying to calm the air before it combusts.

But it’s too late.

He storms into the room, slamming the door behind him with a crack so loud Serena flinches behind me. I shift, stepping in front of her like a goddamn shield, like my body alone can protect her from the fallout.

"You’re fucking kidding me," Byron growls, coming closer, fists clenched at his sides. "Tell me I didn’t just see what I think I saw."

I shake my head once, jaw tight. "Byron—"

"Don’t." He cuts me off, his voice like a whip. "Don’t fucking say my name like you didn’t just have my sister spread out on your desk."

"Nothing happened," I grit out. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" His voice rises. "You expect that to make it better?"

Behind me, Serena makes a soft, broken sound. She doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this. This is on me. All on me.

“Byron, listen to me,” I try again, hating how desperate I sound. “It’s not what you think!"

“The hell it isn’t!”

He lunges. His fist catches me clean across the jaw before I even register he’s moving. Pain explodes across my face, but I don’t hit back. I just take it, the way I probably deserve.

"Don’t you fucking touch her," he roars, voice shaking with fury. "Don’t you dare fucking touch her."

I spit blood into my hand, wipe it off with the back of my sleeve, and finally lift my head to meet his eyes.

“If you touch her again…” he growls, voice low and vibrating with rage. “If you even look at her again, I swear—”

"It’s not what you think," I say, voice rough. "Just—listen—"

But Byron doesn't want to listen.

He wants blood.

"You fucking betrayed me!" he roars, slamming his hands against the wall beside my head so hard the frame rattles. "You were supposed to protect her, not—" He cuts himself off, choking on the words. "Not use her."

The accusation slices through me like a goddamn knife.

"I’m not using her," I snarl back, my hands fisting. "How the fuck can you even say that?"

"You were supposed to look out for her, Levi!" he shouts, shoving at my chest. "Not screw her behind my back. Jesus Christ, how long has this been going on?"

"Since she came back," I grind out, not flinching when he shoves me again. "And don’t you dare talk about her like that."

He freezes, eyes wild, chest heaving.

"You think this is some summer fling?" I spit, stepping closer, my voice sharp and cutting. "You think I'd risk everything—our friendship, this job, my fucking soul—for a goddamn hookup?"

"You sure as hell didn’t tell me you were planning to put your hands all over my sister!" he throws back.

"I wasn’t planning anything!" I bark, fury bleeding into every word.

"It just fucking happened. Because she's not some fragile thing you get to shove in a closet and protect from the world.

She's a goddamn force, Byron. She’s strong and brilliant and fierce and she chose me. You hear me? She chose me."

He stares at me like he doesn’t recognize me anymore, like the foundation we built our lives on is crumbling right under our feet.

"And you—you’re looking at me like I’m dirt," I rasp, my throat tight. "Like I’m some piece of shit who’s gonna break her."

"You are," he hisses, his voice low and guttural. "You’re gonna wreck her and walk away. Just like every other fucker did."

That’s the moment something inside me snaps.

I shove him back, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him see I’m fucking serious.

"I would rather cut out my own heart than hurt her," I snarl, voice shaking with the force of it. "I have loved that woman since the goddamn day I pulled her out of hell. She's not a fling. She's not a mistake. She's it for me. You get that? She's fucking it."

For a second, Byron just stands there, breathing hard, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Then he shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Like he doesn't want to.

"You should’ve come to me," he says finally, voice raw. "You should’ve told me. Trusted me."

"I couldn’t," I whisper, feeling the words splinter inside me. "I was afraid if you knew, you’d rip this apart and send her back home before it even had a chance to be something real."

He closes his eyes for a second, his whole body sagging like someone punched all the air out of him.

"You were supposed to be my brother," he mutters, and that—that right there—hurts worse than any punch he could’ve thrown.

I swallow hard, the taste of regret bitter and thick on my tongue.

"I did," I whisper. "I am. "

His eyes are full of so much rage, so much betrayal, it hits harder than any punch could have.

"You fucked her, Levi," he snaps, voice cracking. "You didn’t protect her. You took her. You fucking lied to me."

"And you’re acting like she’s a goddamn child," I bite back, heat rising fast. "You think she can’t make her own choices? That she didn’t choose me? You’re disrespecting her worse than I ever could."

"Don't you fucking dare turn this around on me," he growls, stepping in close, until we're chest to chest, ready to explode. "You knew what she’s been through. You knew how fucking broken she was, and you still touched her."

I shove him back before I can think, hands fisting in his shirt. "And I’m the only one who’s been putting her back together, you ungrateful fuck."

For a heartbeat, we stand there, breathing hard, the weight of everything we ever meant to each other crumbling into dust between us.

"You betrayed me," Byron says, voice guttural, like he can barely push the words past his throat. "You’re not my brother anymore."

The finality of it punches the air from my lungs.

But I don't apologize.

I don't beg.

I just stare at him, feeling the crack that just split clean through the middle of my fucking chest.

"You don't get a say," I grit out, my voice shaking with rage. "Not anymore."

Neither of us moves. Neither of us breaks.

We just stand there, breathing fire, until Byron finally turns with a sound that's half a growl, half a broken laugh, and shoves the door open so hard it slams into the wall with a crash.

He storms out without looking back.

I drag a shaking hand through my hair, gripping the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white. Every breath feels like it scrapes my lungs raw, rage and betrayal and heartbreak burning through me in one brutal wave.

I force myself to look at Serena—sweet, beautiful Serena—but the second her wide, shattered eyes meet mine, I can’t hold it. I can't.

She didn’t even say anything. She just stood there, silent and small, while everything between me and Byron exploded into dust.

Her voice is a broken whisper behind me. "I’m so sorry, Levi."

The words hit like a bullet, but I can't take them. Not now.

I tear my gaze away, every muscle in my body screaming to stay, to fix it, to hold her. But the fear—the fury—chokes it all down.

"I can't," I rasp out, my voice like gravel.

I push past her, the brush of her fingertips against my arm almost undoing me.

"I have to go."

And I do.

I leave her standing there, holding a love I’m too wrecked to carry right now.