Page 6 of Word to the Wise

“Don’t apologize. The shop’s closed for the night and not important. You’re my sister. Of course I came.”

“Where’s Lyla?” I glance around when Sage lets go of my chin.

“She headed home. We didn’t want to overwhelm you when I wasn’t sure what I was walking into.”

“Home?” I look around and remember rushing Mason at the front door before burying my face in my hands. “That’s right, you moved.”

Everything is so blurry.

I talked to Lyla on the phone last week. She and Sage were officially moving to the compound to be closer tothe club, and Mason was going to continue renting Sage’s old apartment.

Sage rests his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve had a long night.”

Long night.

Long month.

Long six years.

I tip my head back and catch a glimpse of Mason staring in my direction from across the room. He took care of me when he could have sent me away. More than that, he made me feel safe when it didn’t feel possible.

And now he watches me.

He towers, and it’s pronounced with the low ceilings.

His eyes pinch with worry, and I’m reminded how kind he is. How thoughtful and funny and beautiful. Every inch of his body is carved from his biceps to his jawline. He’s over a foot taller than me, and his blond hair is the perfect mess of highlights and dark streaks on top of his head.

Mason could be cut from the cover of a romance novel, and I’m the disaster curled in a ball in the corner of his living room because I let the man I love do this to me.

“I need to know what happened.” Sage shifts, worry clear in his eyes.

He’s using a tone I haven’t heard before—slipping into his role at the club and out of the one that’s my brother. After everything that occurred recently, I don’t blame him. He’s probably worried it’s club-related retaliation.

“It’s not what you think.”

“So, Carter isn’t a dead man walking?” His voice drops.

Maybe it is what he thinks after all.

I glance from Sage to Mason, and he doesn’t look any more pleased than my brother. The first time I met Mason, he seemed so carefree, even if the demons in his eyes gleamed when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

“We got into an argument. And…”

And what?He lost his fucking mind because I caught him texting with another woman. He reminded me it was my fault for not being enough for him.

Does anything come close to excusing his actions?

“Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight bitch, I wouldn’t need anyone else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Carter closes in on me, and I’m overwhelmed with the smell of whiskey and cigarettes. His dark hair is messy, and there are red splotches on his neck from someone else kissing him.

“Don’t I?” He grabs my chin so hard it clicks.

Ever since he “accidentally” threw a book at my face three months ago, my jaw has acted up on occasion.

“Please, Carter. You can’t—”