There was no excuse. That much I’d told my kid brother when he finally had balls enough to return my call.

“I had a source in Portland come through,” he’d tried, and I wondered if he actually thought I gave a shit about his excuses.

When I didn’t reply, offering only a low “Hmm” in answer, Kiel’s voice got tight, forced.

“Look, Kane, I already told Kit what happened, and from what she said, it all worked out.”

“Did she?”

“Well, yeah.” He breathed, sounding irritated when I didn’t speak. “Let me buy you a drink at Lucky’s. I’ll pick you up from the set.”

I never said yes. Never said no either, and around four thirty, while the crew cleaned up for the day and Kit went off with the makeup girls for a late spa day in Tacoma, my brother’s black Lincoln pulled into the drive.

I ignored the two taps of his horn and how he stood at his car, the door open, one foot still in the cab. “Kane?” he called, but I stayed inside the cabin, nodding to the hipster kid when he put the saws in the right spots for once and organized the extension cords. He was taking his damn time about it, but he was finally starting to come around.

Still hadn’t attempted another mustache, though.

Another sound of the horn and the kid straightened, looking from me to the open door. “Somebody waiting on you?” I shifted my glance, taking my time with the last cup of coffee for the day. Asher, the hipster, only nodded, frowning again as the car door shut. “Some guy in a tie is walking up the drive.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, and he looks…” He stopped speaking, watching me for a few seconds before he tossed the last extension cord into the duffle where Dale kept them. “Well, I suppose I’ll take off.”

“You do that.”

There was a brief, full-second reprieve where I stood in the middle of the half-renovated cabin all on my own, before the crunch of gravel outside stopped and I caught the scent of my brother’s expensive cologne burning in my sinuses.

“Fuck, Kane, what the hell?” he said behind me, walking inside with his hands on his hips, half looking at me, half glancing around the cabin. “I know you fucking heard me blowing my horn.”

“Hmm.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Kiel said, standing right in front of me. “I apologized to Kit. I apologized to you. I had work. Something that took priority…”

“Nothing,” I said, finally looking at my brother, “and I mean, not a fucking thing, takes priority over Kit. Not when it’s something that damn big.”

Kiel watched me, eyes in a squint like he couldn’t tell if I was fucking with him. “Holy shit, you are sprung as fuck.”

“Go home, Kiel. I’ve got shit to do.”

He followed me when I left the cabin, and I turned, waiting for my brother to leave the place before I closed the door, locking it up as he went on waiting for me to say something.

“You gonna give me the cold shoulder forever? That’s mature, Kane. Seriously.”

I shook my head, trying hard to remind myself that the beating he deserved couldn’t be delivered on set. There were still stragglers moving around the trailers and lines of cameras placed around the property. I didn’t need the hassle that would likely come to me if I was caught, yet again, on camera, doing shit I had no business doing.

I was nearly to my pickup before Kiel jogged next to me, pushing up the sleeves of his oxford so that the small tattoo on his forearm was visible. Sigma Nu. Stupid fraternity bullshit I told him not to get. Like most things, my kid brother didn’t listen to me.

“Fuck, Kane, what’s the big deal? You took care of it like you wanted.”

“That’s not—” I jerked around, readying to pummel him. I hated the little smirk that was always twitching over his lips, like he was constantly on the verge of cracking a smile. I stretched my neck, glancing at the horizon to keep myself calm before I looked at my brother. “Not the damn point. Of course, I took care of it. I always take care of shit when you flake out. Story of my life.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Kiel said, that smug grin gone now. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy playing the hero. Especially for Kit.”

I took a step, fist curling at my side. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kiel watched me, moving his head like he needed to give me the once-over before he elaborated. Instead of answering, my brother shook his head, and that smirk returned. “You want her. That’s obvious.” He paused, pressing his lips together before he continued. “I mean, I just wanna fuck her, but I guess you want that ass a lot more…”

I didn’t think. I only saw blind rage, fury. It had left me after that time in my truck, with Kit’s sweet pussy wrapped around my fingers, her over me, losing control. But Kiel didn’t get to fucking twist that up for me. And he damn sure didn’t get to say shit like that about Kit, especially not after what he’d done to her.

He barely moved when I went at him, tensing his body at the last minute before I punched him square in the nose. Once. I heard the crack of bone. But on the second punch, Kiel went down, falling onto his ass.

He held up his hand, covering his face to stop me before he scrambled to his feet. “Knew it! I fucking knew,” he said, sounding like he had a cold. Blood poured from his nose, and he held a useless hand under his nostrils that didn’t do anything but smear the blood over his face and across his fingers.

“Knew what, asshole?” I said, pushing him into my truck as I reached into the glove box. “Here.” He took the Kleenex I handed him and tilted his head back.

“You love her.” Love came out as “lub,” but that wasn’t what made me laugh.

“You’re full of shit.”

“Nope. You are.” Kiel sat up, and more blood gushed from his nose. It didn’t stop him. “I talk about fucking her, and you lose it. Broke my fucking nose. Stop being a pussy, and just admit you love her.”

“She’s my friend.”

“Whom you want.”

“That’s not…”

“And love. Shit, you already admitted you’re dumb about her. Just admit the truth.” He jerked a second Kleenex out of my hand when I offered it to him and slid across my seat, leaning against the passenger door. “Such a punk.”

“Says the asshole with the bloody nose.” I glared at him, sighing when I spotted the blood on my leather seats. “Here,” I told him, tossing an old flannel shirt at him. “You’re cleaning that shit up.”

“Fine. Just take me to the hospital, asshole.”

I laughed to myself, but still got in, ignoring Kiel as he went on telling me what he thought I should do about Kit. His advice was stupid, some of it disgusting. And after a few minutes’ drive, I tuned him out, feeling a little bit better after knocking him around. But as we moved through Ashford and my brother kept on spouting his bullshit advice, I couldn’t help noticing the small knot that had started to form in my gut.

Kiel thought he knew the truth when I didn’t know it myself. He thought he had a read on me when I wasn’t even sure I knew who I was anymore at all.

That night after the president’s speech, we’d both gone a little quiet, not saying much on the drive home. I’d brought her to the garage, and she followed me back to Ashford. The whole eighty miles, I watched her in my rearview, the cab of my truck filled with the smell of her, my fingers still warm from being inside her.

But I hadn’t been able to say much about what had happened between us or what that meant.

“Will you still help me with the list?” she’d asked just before she left my truck in the parking garage.

“Of course I will,” I’d told her, not real sure how I was supposed to act around her now.

“Everything on the list?”

No way would I answer that. No way could I deny my answer when I grinned at her, probably giving her a look that advertised what I wanted to do with her. Sex was on the table, for fucking sure, and as I drove home that night, thoughts of Kit and me together filled me up.

Kiel went on laughing at me, complaining about his nose and telling me what an asshole I was for beating on him over Kit. I didn’t blame him for being mad, but I sure as shit wasn’t happy that, of all the people in the world, my bastard kid brother was the one person who made me realize something that had been right in front of me all along: I fucking loved Kit Carlyle something fierce.