Page 8 of The Question of Us (Fisher & Church #2)

I’m not Davis. Mads’ words continued to haunt my brain. Like I needed the reminder, although maybe I had. I’d only ever been in one serious relationship—the man I’d married and intended to grow old with. I’d never had to adjust to anyone else. Never imagined loving anyone else.

Until now.

The truth of those words peeked cautiously around my heart, and for the first time, I let them. Let myself feel what they meant. What they could become. I could duck and dive all I liked, but there was no denying that love was where this thing between Mads and I was headed if I let it.

I crossed the room and lifted his headphones to my nose. The scent of Davis’s coconut shampoo was all but gone and I caught the sharp whiff of citrus instead. I stumbled back and almost dropped the headphones. But... how? It was a fragrance I knew well—Madigan’s body wash. What the fuck?

Don’t be an idiot , Davis’s voice boomed from nowhere into my brain.

I’m dead. This isn’t guilt, Nick. This is you being your stubborn self.

Remember when you almost walked away because I wanted to move forward with our relationship and you couldn’t see it working?

You didn’t believe enough, and I had to believe for both of us until you caught up.

Don’t make that mistake again. Don’t be that frightened little boy screaming at the big wide world to try and scare it off.

I almost smiled before another voice chimed in, this one more recent. Grow up, Nick. I’m not going to chase you. You want me or you don’t, but don’t play games with me.

No prize for guessing the owner of that one.

Two voices.

Two very different men.

Two ways of loving me.

Was it really that easy?

No. It really fucking wasn’t.

What I’d lost. What I’d found. What I wanted. What I needed. What excited me. What terrified me. Two years of hope and despair. Months of grieving. A week of my whole world being turned on its head and then three weeks of hope and confusion.

I roared and threw the headphones through the doorway into the hall. They hit the stairwell, one earpiece snapping against the banister, then bounced their way down to the basement. I fell back against the wall, wrapped my arms around my head, and slid to the floor.

“I’d offer to come back, but fuck that.”

Samuel.

My head jerked up to find my brother-in-law grinning down at me. “You nearly took my damn head off.” His light tone failed to hide the concern written in his eyes. “What the hell did those poor headphones do to you?”

“Not like I knew you were coming up the stairs,” I muttered unapologetically. “Which begs the question of why are you here? And also, a knock on the front door wouldn’t go amiss.”

“And hello to you too.” Samuel dropped his keys on the desk and proceeded to join me on the floor, sitting close enough that our shoulders touched. “So...” He nudged me with his elbow. “Having a wee moment, are we?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I was quite happy wallowing in my own little pity party, thank you very much. It’s way too early to have to deal with you as well. Go away.”

“Yeah, nah, not happening.” He nudged me again. “Besides, it’s morning teatime. How about being a decent host and offering me some? Then you can spill the beans on your latest relationship cock-up.”

I turned a glare on him. “What don’t you understand about leaving me alone?”

“Nothing,” he ventured evenly. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen, though. I’m your brother, Nick, not someone you can bully into submission.”

“There’s an in-law attached to that brother bit, in case you’ve forgotten,” I countered, instantly regretting it. “Shit.” I banged my head back against the wall. “Sorry.”

Samuel snorted. “It’s not like I was expecting to be welcomed with open arms, is it? I know you, Nick. I get you hate that I do, but there it is. You love me and I love you. We’re family. So, grow a pair and talk to me.”

I wanted to be mad at him but all I felt was overwhelming gratitude. I swivelled to face him. “You love me, huh?”

He shrugged. “I said so, didn’t I? Although you’re fucking testing my patience, that’s for sure.”

I chuckled. “Join the queue. It’s a long one.”

He raised a brow. “Trouble in paradise?”

I let loose a much bigger sigh than I’d intended. “Paradise is a myth among many myths.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Deep and meaningful stuff.”

“Yep.” I gave another sigh, then cried out as his elbow connected with my ribs. “Jesus! What was that for?”

He made to do it again, but I scooted sideways just in time, shouting, “Stop it.”

Samuel grunted. “I will when you stop throwing bullshit around. You, Nick Fisher, are about as deep as a puddle, and I’m done fucking around.

So tell me what happened or I’m going to mess up that sad little categorised wardrobe you froth over every morning.

Blues in with the reds. Shirts with trousers.

Shoes not matched in pairs. I’ll go all out. ”

My eyes flew wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He stared back at me. “Try me.”

My teeth clenched at the very thought. It had been bad enough hanging my meagre collection of clothes in the space Mads had allocated for me in his wardrobe the past few weeks. The memory made my skin itch. “Fine,” I grumbled. “But I’m gonna need a coffee or, better still, something stronger.”

“Coffee it is then.” Samuel got to his feet and offered his hand to help me up. “Some of us have work to do.” He pulled me to my feet and brushed me off.

I was about to argue that having work to do was his problem when I remembered two things.

One, the spreadsheet I’d been working on.

And two, a certain pair of green eyes laden with disapproval at the idea of alcohol before noon.

I groaned. Was there no end to the man’s sneaky infiltration of my life?

“Fuck me,” I muttered.

Samuel slapped me on the back. “No thanks, sunshine, but I’m happy to make you a coffee.”

I rolled my eyes. “Definitely the hotter of the two options.”

He laughed and shoved me into the hallway. Ten minutes later, we were seated at the dining table with two steaming mugs of coffee. I took a welcome swallow of the hot brew and said, “So, back to my question about why you’re here.”

Samuel smirked. “Gazza called. He said you’ve been ignoring his texts.”

I pulled out my phone and saw five unanswered texts. I groaned and rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake. I’ve been working. I had it on mute.” Then a worrying thought occurred to me. “Is Mads okay?”

Samuel eyeballed me and all trace of amusement was gone. “I think I’ll leave that to you to find out.”

It was all I could do not to fist his shirt and threaten that pretty face. “Don’t fuck with me.”

Samuel sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Pretty sure that’s what he said to you. Am I right?”

I glowered. “Mads and I are none of your business. Stay in your lane.”

Samuel didn’t, of course. “I’d love to, except for the part where you’re fucking things up in grand style and it is my business, as it happens.

It’s the whole brother-code thing. You know, pull you back from the ledge, stop you being a total jerk when required, even rescue your love life when you’re too pig-headed to see something right under your very nose. ”

I huffed. “If you’re referring to Mads, I don’t need your help to see him. I can’t seem to do anything but see him.” I sighed and took a deep breath. “That’s the problem. I care a great deal about him and I haven’t walked away. I just... I just?—”

“Can’t get out of your own way,” Samuel finished my sentence for me, which earned him another scathing glare.

“It’s—”

He held up a hand. “If you’re about to say complicated, I might have to break my promise to myself and punch you in the fucking nose.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Doesn’t change the fact.”

He arched a brow. “But it’s not just complicated for you though, is it?”

A fact I was trying hard not to focus on in case it messed with that whole self-pity thing I had going on. “Yes, of course I realise that.” And I did, kind of.

“It can’t be easy competing with a dead husband,” he added blandly.

I blinked, shocked at his frankness. “That’s your brother you’re talking about. Your blood brother.” I shook my head. “I don’t get why you’re so accepting of all this? Why aren’t you railing at me for falling for another guy when your brother is still warm in the ground?”

Samuel almost choked on his coffee and had to wipe his mouth. “Now who’s being frank? The Fisher charm offensive is in the house.”

I snorted. “Your brother didn’t marry me for my charm.”

Samuel huffed. “Just as well because he would’ve been bitterly disappointed.”

“Fuck off.” But I couldn’t hide my smile.

Samuel set his cup on the table and studied me. “You want to know why the idea of you and Madigan doesn’t upset me?”

I suddenly wasn’t sure that I did, but I nodded anyway.

“Because I can actually see you two working, just like I saw Davis and you working. And I know Davis would approve.”

I frowned into my cooling coffee. “They’re nothing alike.”

“And I don’t see that as a bad thing,” Samuel mused. “I always thought Davis was too soft on you. You can be a right shit sometimes.”

I snorted. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”

Samuel didn’t smile. “Okay then, I will. So, buckle up. Did you know Davis came to see me when you broke up with him that time?”

That got my full attention. “Have you been eavesdropping in my head?”

He looked confused. “What?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. And no,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“You broke up with him because he asked you to move in together,” Samuel continued.

My heart stuttered in my chest and I almost couldn’t breathe. “He told you about that?”

Samuel gave me a knowing look. “Yeah. Didn’t expect that, did you?”

“He—” I swallowed hard. “He never said a word about it to me.”

“Mmm.” Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “That’s because he would never say anything bad about you, even when he was hurting. So, imagine how hurt he’d have to be to talk to me.”

I didn’t have to imagine. I knew.