Page 98 of The Holiday Clause

His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He checked the time with growing dread. She wasn’t in her yoga class. There was no reason for her to be unavailable, no excuse that would satisfy the growing panic in his chest.

Soren chuckled, the sound cold and knowing. “Looks like you’re getting the brush-off too.”

What was she doing? They had an understanding.

“Looks like you’ve got nothing, big brother.”

Greyson’s shoulders stiffened, then he pocketed his phone with deliberate calm. Time to come clean. “I was with her an hour ago, Soren.”

They locked eyes, the air crackling between them. “You lie.”

He shook his head. “Kissing her. Touching her. Do you want me to go on?”

“Manipulating her.” Soren glared at him through dark, narrow eyes that burned with betrayal.

“More like fighting her off and trying to do the right thing.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Am I?” Distrust flowed in the chasm between them like poison. They’d always been loyal—brothers for life—but things started to feel less stable, the foundation cracking beneath their feet. “It’s a courtesy—me warning you to stay away from her. Next time I won’t be so calm.”

Soren crossed his arms over his chest, his stance defiant. “Any man who tries to control a woman’s friends has no real control over anything.”

“I never told her you two couldn’t be friends. But I’m telling you, if you kiss her again, I’ll break your face.”

He laughed without humor. “And what about afterwards?”

Grey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, after it gets too real for you, Grey. Dad’s dying. I know how you get. You take off whenever things get too intense. How will that translate to a life with her? You gonna run every time things get real? Marriage? Babies? Things can get pretty heavy when you’re talking about the forever.”

His chest tightened like a vise, each breath becoming harder to draw.

“That’s you, Greyson. That’s what you’ve been protecting her from your entire life. She needs more than you’re willing to offer. You know it. I know it. And Wren fucking knows it. All you’re doing is leading her down a path that will eventually end with her tears.”

He took a step forward, then stilled, his hands fisted at his sides and ready to swing, violence humming through his veins.

Soren glanced at his clenched fingers and scoffed, unafraid. “You can’t hit me, because you know I’m right.”

He could have laid him out with one swing, could have felt the satisfying crack of bone against bone. He should have. But Rat was in his pocket, and Wren would hear about it, would be disappointed in him again, and that would cut deeper than any blade. How many times had he already made her cry?

Soren’s words echoed in his skull like a gong. “I should kick your ass for saying that.”

“Some things are worth getting your ass kicked for. It needed to be said.”

He couldn’t listen to anymore, couldn’t bear the images Soren’s words painted. He also couldn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. “I gotta go.”

“That’s it. Run away like you always do when things get too real,” Soren called after him, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

The ringing in his ears turned deafening. By the time he reached his truck, hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, the engine roaring to life, he could hardly breathe. Did he make a mistake? He couldn’t get the image of her crying out of his head.

What if Soren was right and he was the wrong guy for Wren?

CHAPTER 14

“Busy Sidewalks”

Small towns were charming,until they weren’t.