A bag of groceries in each hand, I kick the door closed behind me. There’s water running in the bathroom but the apartment is quiet otherwise.

Walking into the kitchen, I grin around the keys I stuck in my mouth. Camilla’s mark is on everything. The salt and pepper are sitting on the middle of the stove, not jammed in a cabinet like I leave them. There’s a towel folded next to the sink that’s empty.

The bags hit the counter with a thud.

The scent of Cam’s perfume lingers in the air, despite the fact that she left hours ago. I’ve worked out, showered, and grabbed a list of things Nate asked me to pick up from the market since she went home early this afternoon. Still, I can feel her here. And I miss her.

Taking out the items one by one, I ignore the growing sensation in my chest. It’s a nagging feeling, one that digs at you until you’re spurred to action. I’ve trained my brain to think of anything else in times like this. Like it’s supposed to, my mind flickers through punching combinations, mixed drinks, random television trivia, but none of it works. None of it can distract me from her.

Not that this is an unusual development. I think of her all damn day. Today was different, though. More specific.

Instead of imagining her tight pussy or hearing her laugh at some stupid joke, today I’ve thought of the look she had in her eyes last night. It was devoid of judgement. There was no fear, which was my fear. It was just the look of a woman caring about … me. The real me. The me that has all this dirt and garbage and not-so-nice things. Me. Dominic Hughes, born April 8, 1989.

It’s like she sees me as someone worth seeing.

“Shit,” I say, blowing out a breath.

Taking out the last item, a jar of smooth peanut butter, I walk to the pantry and place it inside. I turn towards the kitchen table when I see a piece of white paper on the floor next to Nate’s shoes.

Lifting the folded piece of paper that looked like it had fallen to the spot where it was lying, I open it. The top has the logo of the bank Nate and I use. Beneath that is his name and a figure much larger than it should be.

“What the fuck?”

Bringing it closer to my face and ignoring the vomit that swirls at the base of my throat, I see that it’s a notice of a money transfer. My body slumps, realizing he must’ve gotten the loan fast-tracked. I make a note to give him hell about moving out and start to drop it onto the counter. Before it falls from my fingers, I snatch it up again.

Camilla Jane Landry is listed at the bottom as the sender.

“What?” I hiss. The paper rasps as I shake it straight again. “What the absolute fuck is this?”

The lines blur as a heavy dose of adrenaline kicks in. The numbers don’t make sense and it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to see Cam’s name on a bank receipt with Nate’s name attached.

The rush of blood to my head causes me to wince, my jaw clenching so hard it throbs. A million thoughts roar through my mind, searching for a logical explanation to a situation I can’t make sense of. Because there is no sense to make of it.

“Did you get the ...” Nate’s voice drops off as he rounds the corner and stops in his tracks. He takes a quick look at my face, then to the paper, then to my face again. His eyes widen. The hand that’s holding the towel he was using to dry his hair falls limp at his side. “Dom …”

“First question, where’s Ryder?”

“With Chrissy. Why?”

“I don’t want him to hear this conversation,” I state, the paper quivering in my hand.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m torn here, Nate,” I bark, twisting the paper around in my hand so he can see it. He blanches. “You’re my brother, so I’m like, ‘Yeah, there’s a logical explanation to this.’ Then I look again and, you know what? There’s no logical explanation to this.”

His head shakes, his chin dropping to the floor. “Look, Dom, I can explain.”

“Oh, I hope you can,” I growl. “And you better fucking start right now.”

“Camilla offered to lend me the money—”

“And you fucking let her?” I shout, the muscles in my face straining as the words eject from my mouth. “You fucking let my girlfriend loan you ten. Thousand. Dollars?”

“I’m going to pay her back.”

My laugh isn’t from amusement. It shakes with a fury I haven’t felt in years. Nate picks up on it because he takes a half-step backwards. “This isn’t about you paying her back, cocksucker. This is about you taking the motherfucking money!”

Each word amps up my anger, each syllable getting a little louder until I’m almost screaming. My temples throb. The veins in my throat threaten to burst as I rip into him. Still, there’s so much fury fighting to get out that it doesn’t help.

“You know how this shit works. What the fuck are you thinking?” I step to him, my eyes glued on his. “What in God’s name made you think this was okay? What made you think you could do this and not even fucking ask me?”

We’re toe-to-toe, only inches separating us. Just like in the ring, I can taste his fear—sense his trepidation that I may close the distance between us with my fist faster than he can see it coming.

My chest rises and falls, nearly touching his on the uptake. If he wasn’t my brother, I’d lay him out. If I wasn’t his brother, he wouldn’t let me get away with this either.

“You need to calm down, Dom.”

“You have about ten seconds to explain or I’m going to assume there’s not a good reason keeping me from knocking you the fuck out.”

“I’ll get the loan. I’ve been approved. I’ll just transfer it back to her. This isn’t a big deal.”

“You paying her interest?” I spit.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t fucking know,” I roar, turning away before I topple over the edge. “You don’t fucking know because you didn’t think it through!”

Before I think better of it, I grab the edge of the table and slam it into the wall. A picture of a set of praying hands that hangs on the adjacent wall slams to the floor. I stand, staring at the mess, my breathing completely erratic. It occurs to me I might pass out.

“Dom, man, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. She was just helping me out.”

I don’t answer. I don’t even look at him. I can’t. If I turn around, I’m going to do and say things I’ll regret. I’m self-aware enough to know that.

“I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t cut it, Nate,” I grimace. “Not this time.”

He blows out a breath. His steps patter the floor behind me as he moves across the kitchen. “What do you want me to do? Want me to give it back to her?”

“I don’t know what to do now. You’ve already taken it.”

“What’s it hurt? For real?”

Spinning on my heels, I face him. “What does it hurt? What you did was complete disrespect.”

“To who?”

“To me,” I seethe. “To my girl.”

“How am I disrespecting Cam? She offered it,” he reiterates, bewildered. “Maybe you I can see. But her? Fuck that. She offered it. She can afford it.”

Waiting until I can semi-compose myself, I watch him. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times as I glare at him. The longer I wait to respond, the longer his words have to soak into my brain … and piss me off worse.

“Is that what you think of her?” I ask, my heartbeat racing once more. “You think she’s some kind of credit card?”

“Of course not.”

“How’s she gonna feel about this in a couple of days? You think she won’t feel like you just cashed her out? Like you used her for a buck? No, ten goddamn thousand of them?”

“It’s not like that.”

“But what if it is?” I say, balling my fist at my sides. “And what about her family? Her brothers? You don’t think they’ll know there’s money missing from her account?”

“Why would they? She’s an adult.”

“Because that’s how shit works with them,” I say through clenched teeth. “What’s that make her look like?”

All he can do is shrug.

“I’ll tell you what it makes her look like. It makes her look like she needs monitored like a baby and she doesn’t,” I boil. “Who goes around loaning ten grand to someone they just met?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. You just gave them every reason in the world to think the worst about her, you fucking idiot.”

“I—”

“They already treat her that way,” I say, cutting him off. “They coddle her and treat her like a baby, and she’s fighting to get out from under that. Then here you go taking advantage of her.” I tug at my hair, the roots threatening to give as I yank on the locks. “If you were anyone else, I would kill you for doing this.”

“For taking a loan?”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I look at him like he’s the dumbest person I know. Maybe he is. “No. For putting her in this position. You took advantage of her kindness without thinking about how it might affect her.”

His shoulders sag.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I sigh. “Anything else you’ve done or taken or discussed that I’m going to be hit with coming up?”

“Of course not.”

Shoving my hands in my pockets, my fists burning from being clenched, I look at my brother. “Things were just maybe starting to go right, Nate. And then you go and fucking do this at the worst possible time.”

“What time is that? How is it any different than yesterday or tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to go to dinner with her and one of her brothers tomorrow night.”

His brows lift. “Oh. That is a little different.”

“Yeah,” I nod, feeling the weight of the world sitting square in the center of my chest. “It is.”

“What brought that on?”

I force a swallow. “I don’t know. A moment of weakness, I guess. But I was hoping to go into it with a game plan. Of trying to make myself out to not look like the no-good asshole I am, see if there was a chance to maybe do something with this thing with Cam despite every indication there isn’t. Then you go pull this fucking stunt.”

“So don’t go.”

“No, I have to go now,” I scoff. “If I don’t, I’m suddenly the no-good that also managed to con ten grand from her and bailed.”

“You didn’t—”

“The one brother you talked to at the bar. The one you hated. What was his name?”

“Lincoln.”

“Lincoln,” I repeat. “Okay. Were the rest of them as bad?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I just hated that cocky son of a bitch.”

“But you lumped them all together because you didn’t like Lincoln. Right?”

A look of understanding flashes before his eyes.

“So whether or not this had anything to do with me at all, I’m guilty by association. By blood.” I shake my head, the anger starting to surge again. “You know what? Fuck you.”

Swiping my keys off the counter, I glare at him as I march by.