Entering the bedroom, I flip on the light, and for a moment, I just stare at the spacious, masculine room, the giant bed draped in brown in the center. Shane’s bed. My bed. Our bed. My lips curve and I cross the room, and entering the bathroom, I flip on the light to illuminate the sparkling white décor, before plopping my bag down on the counter. Unzipping it and craving structure and security, I take the liberty to claim parts of the sink, to set up my few makeup and hair-care products, the sight of them on Shane’s counter next to his items feeling pretty surreal about now.
Task complete, I scoop up the shopping bags beside the bathtub, along with my duffel, and, a bit overloaded, struggle my way through the bedroom to the closet. Dumping it all at the door, I survey Shane’s neatly organized closet, my stomach fluttering with the sight of his things, which will soon be next to my things. Well, the few things I have, which feels a little embarrassing right now, but somehow, not quite as hollow as it had just yesterday.
In all of this, I have found a man I care deeply for.
I walk forward and drag my hand down the row of neatly hung expensive suits, inhaling that raw masculine scent that is Shane everywhere around me, and considering where we were a few hours ago, it’s surreal. I turn and press my hands to my hips, standing in the center of the closet. Glancing around me, I decide this is his space, his world, and it’s best to allow him to invite me inside it in his own way. Still, I need to get my duffel out of the way and I pick a corner to neatly stack my clothing items and shoes. I do the same with the contents of the bags, then stuff the bags in the duffel. With some tiptoe action, I manage to shove the duffel on top of the empty shelf above.
Tasks complete and Shane’s still downstairs, so I head to the bathroom, strip, and step into the shower. Warm water bordering on hot flows over me, and unbidden, my mind starts to drift to that night again, and I picture myself standing at the sliding glass door of my stepfather’s house. I reach for the handle, pulling it back, and it’s like everything is in slow motion.
The door fully opens. The sound of my stepfather’s favorite Mozart compilation is playing in the background, the one I’ve come to hate, as it represents him. I dread seeing him because, of course, he will be arrogantly obnoxious. I inhale, and step into the kitchen. I shake myself before I see the blood. Before I see my brother standing there with red streaking his shirt and face.
The shower door opens and I yelp, only to be greeted by Shane’s low, sexy laughter and his hard, naked body.
“You scared me,” I reprimand him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, folding me in his arms, and he is hard where I am soft, and strong in ways I wish I were not weak. He would face blood. “You’re obviously jumpy, because no one else would be joining you in the shower, which, by the way, I liked coming upstairs to. But what’s bothering you?”
I flatten my hand on his now damp chest. “That night. I hate thinking about that night and I hate that it rattles me so badly.”
“You might not have liked your stepfather, but he was the man who helped raise you. There is a grieving process you have to endure at some point.”
“I didn’t like him. He cheated on my mother. He talked down to us. He dragged my brother into the Geminis, and that led to this. But then I think I’m blaming him for his own death. I feel guilty for that.”
“I feel similar things about my father,” he admits. “I hate him and I love him and I don’t know how those two thing are possible to feel at the same time. Ironically, in this, I know Derek and I are the same. It’s our only middle ground, but I can’t find a way to make that bring us together. In fact, I can’t bring us together and I’m done trying.”
“Shane, he’s still your brother. Are you sure?”
“I’ve tried. I’m done. It’s war between me and Derek.”
“I take it your problem tonight got bigger.”
“No. It’s simply unsolved and unresolved, because at the root of it is the battle for power between myself and Derek, which I can’t deny, to save this company and my family.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He cups my face and presses me into the corner. “No,” he says, his voice a low rasp. “I want to fuck.” He kisses me then, a deep, demanding, tormented kiss, and before long he is inside me, pumping, thrusting, and I sense he is trying to drive away his demons, and mine with them. But long minutes later, when we are naked in bed, my back to his front, his big body draped around mine, I also sense that he isn’t sleeping any more than I am. His demons and mine are alive and well, two poison kisses, which could too easily turn our sweet hello into a brutal good-bye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHANE
I wake at six in the morning, still naked, still holding onto Emily, not even remembering when I finally went to sleep. All I know is that for hours, I’d just held her, trying to figure out how to protect her from her brother and mine. And for a good long while, I think she did the same, until finally her deep breathing told me she rested, even if I could not. I inch back, trying not to wake her, and grab my phone from the nightstand, checking for a message from Seth with some kind of update. There isn’t one, but then, he has to sleep. I know this, yet I struggle to contain the urge to text him now.
Sitting up, I run my hands through my hair and stand, taking my phone with me to the bathroom, and the hole in my stomach reminds me we never ordered that pizza. Emily is going to be starving when she wakes up. I shut the bathroom door and stare down at the few items she’s set on the sink and it steals my breath. She is in my life now. Really in my life. My responsibility, though Emily would disagree on that part, but I know of no other way than to take care of her, to protect her, and that is what is gutting me. How do I protect her when our families are basically two tornadoes about to sideswipe us at any moment, or worse, collide, with devastating results?