Page 34 of My Ex’s Billionaire Brothers (Forbidden Hearts #5)

HUNTER

I’m standing on the back porch of the Markoff cottage, watching Anya weave her way through a sea of cousins, aunts, and uncles I can’t keep straight. It’s early afternoon, and the sun is hot, but the ocean breeze keeps the sweat at bay.

She’s smiling, nodding politely at everyone who tugs her aside for a quick hello, yet I can see in the tightness around her eyes that she’s hitting her limit.

This is the second big family gathering in less than twenty-four hours, and while this one hasn’t yet involved someone knocking me unconscious, the day isn’t over yet.

I’m used to huge Carver shindigs, but those are…different. Even if there are a million half-siblings, step-siblings, and who-knows-what-siblings in the mix, nobody’s pressing me for details about my personal life. The Carvers are a boring bunch, more of a “take your plate and find a seat” affair.

Here, with the Markoffs, I feel the interrogation vibe from every direction—raised eyebrows, polite but pointed questions, references to local gossip—and I’m not even Anya’s blood relative. I can only imagine how she’s feeling.

Gage and Theo are off talking to her dad, Alexei—I’m still not sure about calling him that to his face—and a few uncles about something to do with the fence they were working on yesterday.

Gage is probably lecturing them about post support angles—he’s got a knack for that—while Theo stands there, all prim and serious, contributing a few words here and there.

I’m happy to let them handle fence talk. But I can’t help scanning for Anya. The second I see her slip out the side gate, I know exactly what she’s doing. She needs to breathe. She needs an out.

And I need time with her.

I set down my red plastic cup of lemonade—Jessica’s secret recipe, apparently—and follow her. She hasn’t walked far. I catch up near the front of the cottage, stepping around a group of kids shoving each other and squealing. The sight of them makes me grin, but I’m more focused on Anya.

“Hey,” I say quietly, slipping a hand around her elbow. “Wanna go for a walk?”

She turns, relief etched across her features. Even if her lips are still locked in that polite smile, the corners of her eyes soften at the edges of her sunglasses when she sees it’s me. “Yes. Please.”

We don’t announce our exit to the entire extended Markoff clan. We just slip off down the sandy path that leads to the beach. Someone behind us—maybe a second cousin—calls Anya’s name, but she pretends not to hear. I don’t blame her.

It’s breezy down by the water, gulls circling above, the briny scent of the ocean filling my lungs.

The tide is out, leaving broad, wet sand that sparkles under the midday sun.

Further down, I see families setting up umbrellas and kids building elaborate sandcastles.

But we stick to the deserted stretch of shore that’s less appealing for the casual beachgoer—maybe because it’s rocky and the waves crash harder here.

She reaches out and laces her fingers through mine, and my heart does that little flip it’s been doing since last night. We’ve been messing around for days, but last night was…different.

She sighs, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

“Anytime,” I answer. “I know it’s your family, but man…there’s a lot of them.”

She snorts. “You have no idea. Half of them I haven’t seen since I was ten. I’d forgotten how busy it gets when everyone crams into our house for the Fourth.”

We walk along in comfortable silence, shoes in hand, damp sand squishing between our toes. The waves curl around our ankles, leaving foam behind. I don’t speak until she’s ready, and eventually she sighs again, a long exhale that’s part relief, part tension.

“I love them, you know? But being around my family…I slip into that old role, the ‘good girl’ role, the one who’s always polite, always mindful, never swears, never talks back. It’s like I’m back in high school.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s weird. And now they all know about…us.”

I don’t miss her slight tremor when she mentions us . I gently brush my thumb over the back of her hand. “Does that bother you?”

She looks up, and there’s this shy little quirk to her mouth. “No. Not really. I’m done pretending. Being with you—and Gage and Theo, obviously—has felt more authentic than anything else in my entire life. I’m not ashamed.”

“People will stare at us in Boston too,” I remind her with a grin.

Her cheeks turn pink. “True. But there’s anonymity in a big city, you know? Here, my entire life story is known to everyone. The Markoffs have been in Castle Beach for generations. If I so much as sneeze, it’s considered news.”

“If you ever want to bail, just say the word. We’ll find a nice hotel in Savannah or something.”

“You’re sweet. But I do want to be here. My parents, for all their flaws and disagreements, love me.”

We stroll further, collecting seashells with our toes. I glance at her, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes. “How are you holding up after last night? That was…intense.”

She reaches out to brush her fingertips over the spot where Calvin clocked me. It’s near my temple, still a bit tender. “How about you ? Your head okay?”

“I’m fine. Thick skull, thick skin.”

“That was scary. And yet you hopped right back up to throw him out.”

“I had help, remember?” I wink. “Your dad was ready to shoot the guy. Not that I object, but that would have been a lot of paperwork.”

Anya’s chuckle is warm and breathy. “That was…yeah, that was a wild night.”

We walk on in companionable silence for a bit, letting the ocean breeze fill our lungs. Eventually, she squeezes my hand again, and I look over to find her studying me.

“You said something last night,” she begins. “When we were all talking about making it…official. You said it meant everything to you. Did you really mean that?”

I can’t resist leaning in to press a slow kiss against her lips. “Yes.”

The wind whips around us, the ocean roars at our feet, and for a moment, it’s just the two of us in our own world. When I pull back, her cheeks are flushed, and my entire body hums with the reminder of how incredible she is.

We walk again, arms around each other’s waists now. She nestles closer, as if seeking my warmth in the breezy afternoon. After a few minutes of quiet, she lets out a contented sigh.

“I’m so thankful for you…all of you,” she murmurs. “But especially for you right now. You’ve always been the one who can make me laugh. Even when you’re making jokes at the worst times.”

“Hey, that’s my specialty.” I grin. “We can’t all be Gage with his no-nonsense approach. Or Theo with his crisp, refined manner. Somebody’s gotta crack wise and keep people loose, right?”

She laughs, leaning her head against my arm. “Exactly. So…what about you, Hunter? What are you most thankful for?”

I pretend to mull that over, scratching my chin. “Hmm. If I say anything other than you , you’ll be offended. But if I say you , it’s super cheesy. You’ve put me in a tough spot, babe.”

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

I gently catch her by the shoulders and turn her to face me.

My gaze roams her features—the curve of her cheek, the sparkle in her blue eyes, the faint smattering of freckles she hates but I adore.

“I’m serious too,” I say quietly. “I’m thankful for this very moment, Anya.

The way you’re looking at me right now. The way you make me feel. Like maybe I’m not some giant mistake.”

Her eyes widen. “Why would you ever think you’re a mistake?”

There’s a twinge in my chest, an old wound reopening.

I’m not used to talking about this, but I want her to know.

“It’s old stuff. My mom…well, she wasn’t exactly warm and nurturing once we got older.

After me, Theo came along, and it was all about the new baby.

She’d do that with every new kid. She loved babies, but once they started, you know, talking and being actual kids, she lost interest. I guess I decided it was my fault that I wasn’t…

enough. Then, with Theo being so perfect?—”

“Hey.” She squeezes my hand. “Theo’s not perfect.”

I huff a half laugh. “I know that now . But back then…it felt like he was everything good, and I was that loud, rowdy kid no one wanted around. I was always getting into fights…she never cared if I came home bruised or bleeding. I started thinking, I’m just an afterthought.

Gage got out early—he was older and didn’t stay under her roof long. Meanwhile, I felt stuck.”

She exhales softly, her expression filled with empathy. “Hunter…I’m so sorry.”

I lift a shoulder. “It’s okay, really. I’ve made peace with it. The dojo I trained at sort of became my family. But those feelings? They linger. That’s why I joke around a lot—keeps me from brooding.” I pause, letting the sound of the waves wash over us.

Her eyes glisten. She raises her hand to my cheek, fingertips warm. “You’re not a mistake,” she says, voice trembling. “Not to me, not to Gage or Theo. You’re the heart of this relationship, no matter how many of us there are. And I’m always going to want you.”

The surge of emotion hits me hard enough that I can’t speak. I tug her closer, letting my lips meet hers in a kiss that’s part gratitude, part longing. She leans into me, and for a brief, blissful moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

Except we’re not alone on this beach. A sharp, derisive voice draws us out of our reverie. “Get a room, would you?”

I pivot, still holding Anya protectively. A few yards away stands Billy. That Billy. The guy from the flower shop and her ex-boyfriend from high school. He looks like he just rolled out of bed—hair half-sticking up, wearing a faded T-shirt that’s seen better days. His scowl is unmistakable.

“What’s your problem?” I ask, stepping between him and Anya. My tone is low, and I can’t hide my annoyance. Of all the times to show up.

He sneers. “My problem is seeing my ex crawling all over some muscle-bound clown on my beach.” He waves a dismissive hand. “It’s…disgusting. Y’all should be ashamed.”

I grit my teeth, but Anya is quicker. She sets a hand on my arm, as if telling me not to snap. I swallow hard, keeping a lid on my temper. “Jealous much?”

Billy ignores me, sneering at Anya. “Jealous? Of what, exactly? Having a third of a girlfriend? I don’t need that kind of drama.”

Anya’s chin lifts, and she looks him square in the eye. “See, here’s the funny thing, Billy. No one asked for your opinion, and there’s a reason for that.”

His face twists, anger simmering under the surface. “What did you say?”

She crosses her arms. “You. Don’t. Matter.

Your opinion doesn’t matter. That’s why no one asked you for it.

And that’s why you’re really angry, isn’t it?

Because you’re stuck in this town, running your mother’s old flower shop.

That’s what you’ll do until the day you die, and you’ll never leave Castle Beach.

You told me a million times you were going to escape one day—go to the big city, be someone important—but you never did.

And deep down, you know you never will. Meanwhile, I got out, and that burns you up inside. ”

Her voice is calm, almost pitying, and I see Billy’s cheeks flush a deep red.

He opens his mouth to speak, but she steamrolls him with, “I hope you find something that gives your life meaning one day, Billy. I genuinely do. But it’s not going to be me, and it’s not going to be this conversation. Good luck.”

Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and strides away from him, her dress swishing around her legs. My chest swells with admiration. Damn , that was hot.

Billy’s mouth hangs open, completely at a loss for words. I can’t help but grin, glancing from him to Anya’s retreating figure. “It’s like they say. The dildo of consequences rarely arrives lubed.”

His expression is priceless—utter bewilderment and impotent rage.

I jog to catch up with Anya, leaving him sputtering behind us on the sand.

She’s walking briskly, shoulders squared, but I can see her breathing heavily.

When I loop an arm around her waist, she leans into me, exhaling a shaky breath.

“Holy crap,” she mutters. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

I bark out a laugh. “No complaints from me. You just verbally burned that guy to ash and walked away without so much as a backward glance.”

She giggles, a sweet, breathy sound. “I hate being mean, but…he deserved that. Right?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I tighten my arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “He needed to hear every word. And honestly? I needed to hear you say it. Watching you shut him down like that was…unbelievably attractive.”

She blushes, a slow smile curling her lips. “Well, look at that. All it took was me verbally slaying my ex to win your admiration.”

I grin, guiding her further down the beach. “I’ve always admired you, kitten. This just kicks it up a notch.”

Anya sighs again, but it’s a lighter sound, like she just needed to exhale the remnants of that confrontation. “I totally forgot Billy’s parents’ house is down this side of the beach,” she says. “Maybe we should’ve gone the other way.”

“Nah,” I say, giving her a small squeeze. “That was necessary. He needed to hear the truth. And I needed to see you take him down a peg.”

She laughs, leaning her head against my chest as we walk. The wind whips her hair around, and her face gleams in the sunlight. She looks so content, so alive . It makes my heart clench in the best way.