Sixteen Years Old

Thunder

The air ripples between us.

A spark of energy. A sizzle of light.

I promised myself years ago that no one would ever hold the power to hurt me. But this girl has the power to destroy me.

“It’s cold out here.” Kennedy shivers and rubs her bare arms.

“Here.” I tug off my hoodie, then help her into it.

She’s tiny, barely coming up to my chin, and the sweatshirt is huge on her. I let my hands linger a little longer than I should.

“Thanks,” she says, looking up at me. The nervous tension between us is palpable.

“It’s almost midnight. You don’t want to miss the fireworks.” At least that’s my excuse for dragging her out here, away from the New Year’s Eve party her parents are hosting inside. What I really want to do is pull her into my arms and crush my lips against hers.

Not happening.

“We should be able to see them from here.” I pull away and take a sip of the beer I stole from my father's stash.

When I offer her one, she scrunches her nose up at it, instead snuggling into the warmth of my sweatshirt. Her eyes go wide when she notices the new ink covering my forearms. “Oh my God. Is that real?”

“Yeah.” I grin, proud of the web of patterns I designed myself.

“Your dad let you?”

“Like he cares,” I sneer, which isn’t exactly true. He beat the shit out of me when he saw it.

“How?” She takes my arm in her hands and begins tracing the patterns.

Almost instantly, I’m rock hard.

“Three hundred dollars and a fake ID.” I shrug, like it’s not a big deal, like her touch doesn’t send a thousand bolts of electricity pulsating through my body.

“It’s…” she bites her lip, fingers still playing across the ink, sending more sparks of heat thrumming through my veins, “beautiful.”

I lean in, mesmerized by her perfect mouth, and wanting nothing more than to taste those lips.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, brushing a lock of blonde hair off her cheek and tucking it behind her ear.

So fucking beautiful.

That’s what she is.

And so much more.

Kind.

Sweet.

Pure.

All the things I’m not.

I’ve known Kennedy Harper my entire life. She’s practically family. So why the hell can’t I control my thoughts around her?

“Ten, nine, eight…” Inside, people start the count down to the New Year. “…seven, six, five…”

I drain the last of my beer, then place it on the railing.

“…four, three, two…”

In the distance, the first flashes of light brighten up the night sky.

Kennedy stands against the railing, and I move behind her. When she shivers, I go against all common sense, and pull her back towards me, wrapping my arms around her body, and leaning down so that my head rests on top of hers.

I dip my head towards hers, breathing in the scent of her; watching her eyes light up as the fireworks go off.

She leans back into me, like she wants my touch.

I should step away, but instead I press in closer. I’m so far out of my comfort zone with all these emotions twisting in my chest.

I’ve got a lineup of girls that are more than happy to jump into my bed. Meaningless sex. It should be enough. But it’s not. Not when there’s Kennedy.

“Happy New Year.” I murmur in her ear and feel a small tremble go through her body.

She turns slightly, her mouth parted as if she’s about to say something, but before she can utter a word, my lips are on hers.

Just a single touch.

Soft.

Gentle.

But it’s enough to rock my world—or destroy it.

“Liam.” My father’s rough, slurred voice barks out behind me.

“Fuck.” I push Kennedy away from me a little too roughly, and her fingers go instantly to her mouth, eyes wide.

I should never have touched her.

She’s off limits. I don’t need him, the asshole who’s now staring at me with murder in his bloodshot eyes, reminding me I’m no good for her. Because I know it’s the truth.

Kennedy looks up at me like she doesn’t know what she should do.

“Go inside.” My tone is cold, harsh, because I know what the single kiss is going to cost me.

She blinks, not moving, like she’s still trying to decide if she should leave me. She knows my father’s temper. Not the full extent of it—but she’s seen the bruises, heard his vicious words.

“Liam?” she says softly, concern in her hazel eyes. She’s the only person who uses my real name without causing my stomach to curdle.

I prefer the nickname the boys down at the gym started calling me after my first fight—Thunder. A single blow to the temple knocked my opponent out ten seconds into the first round.

At just sixteen, grown men tremble when I walk into the ring.

Yet here I am, ten consecutive wins later, and I’m still scared of the man staring daggers at me now. Every second Kennedy stands there, a shield between us, I know his anger grows.

“Go,” I growl, then lean closer so that only she can hear. “That shouldn’t have happened. Understand?”

A small nod is her only response, but I can see the tears gathering in her eyes.

Shit.

When Kennedy is gone, my father stumbles towards me. He grips my t-shirt in his fists and shoves me up against the side of the house. “I’ve told you to keep your hands off her.”

I could easily dart out of his grasp; instead I stand there and accept the first shot, a blow to my ribs.

Pain splinters through my chest, and I cough out a rough breath.

Fuck.

He’s still sober enough to make each hit count.

I’ve learned from experience that the more I fight back, the worse the beating.

Could I take him? Yeah, I could kill the motherfucker. But then what? The asshole is still my father, and for another five months, he’s the roof over my head.

“She’s too fucking good for scum like you.” His breath reeks of beer, and spittle hits my face when he hisses out each word.

I don’t need him reminding me. I know he’s right. Everything I touch I destroy. Kennedy would be no different.

“Everything okay out here?” Tom Harper, Kennedy’s dad opens the sliding glass doors, brows drawn down.

“Yeah, just having a little father-son talk.” Like fucking Dr. Jekyll, my father’s expression changes, an easy smile spreading across his face as he turns to meet his friend.

Tom doesn’t smile back. “It’s freezing out here. Come inside.”

Like nothing happened, my father follows him, leaving me alone, my ribs aching. But the pain is nothing compared to the hollowness inside my chest.

Empty.

Raw.

Alone.

I breathe out heavily when they’re both gone and pull up my shirt to take in the damage.

The one good thing about having a drunk for a father, is his memory is shit. I doubt he’ll remember seeing me with my lips plastered against Kennedy’s.

I drop my shirt and wince.

Uncapping my last beer, I drown the contents. My thoughts are chaotic, and I’m not sure how long I stand there, but my fingers are practically numb when I turn to go inside.

Instead of going through the house, I take the back stairs to get to the basement where Kennedy and her friends were hanging out before I pulled her out here.

Opening the sliding door, I freeze when I see her. Or rather them.

My brother is stretched out, legs in front of him, a giant smirk plastered on his face, because curled up next to him fast asleep is Kennedy. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder, possessively, and the way she burrows closer to him in her sleep makes my stomach twist.

If she wasn’t practically attached to his body, I’d punch the smirk right off his face.

“Got a problem?” Colin’s eyes narrow on me.

Yeah, a huge one. Him.

Emotions from the darkest part of my soul well up inside me.

Resentment.

Jealousy.

Hatred.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Colin swooping in.

The white knight.

The good brother.

That it wouldn’t feel like a rusty nail to the heart seeing him with her, knowing he’d probably comforted her when she came in here with tears in her eyes—because of me.

My father would have no problem with Colin touching her. Shit, he’d no doubt encourage it. But with me, nothing I do will ever be good enough.

Not for him.

Not for Colin.

And especially not for Kennedy.

* * *

Chapter 1

Present

Thunder

I hate being back in the city.

Mostly because everything reminds me of her. Especially this damn café.

We used to come here after school—Kennedy, Colin and me. It was just a donut shop then. Now it’s one of those fancy shops, where the cup sizes are written in French and it takes ten minutes to brew a damn cup of coffee.

It’s only the beginning of November, and already trickles of laughter mingle with the faint hum of Christmas carols being pumped through the shitty sound system, the smell of cinnamon and peppermint another reminder of Kennedy.

She loved this damn holiday. Even after her father’s death, the foreclosure on her house, and her mother’s unsteady mental health, she still found joy in the small things, like decorating a Christmas tree, or baking cookies that she’d force Colin and I to eat.

“Sir?” The pink haired barista with multiple piercings and tattoos looks at me impatiently.

“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the paper cup she hands me.

Five minutes home, and I’m already torturing myself with memories I’ve spent the last several months trying to forget.

I need to get back to my apartment. Unpack. And try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life, now that fighting is no longer an option.

One bad kick, and my career is over, my knee permanently fucked up.

My manager insists that it’ll just take time to get my strength back. That if I give myself some time to heal, I’ll be back in the ring.

The thing is, I’m sick and tired of fighting.

I mean what’s the fucking point? I’ve already got more money than I know what to do with—and no one to fucking share it.

“Careful,” I growl, my coffee sloshing over the side and burning my hand, when a woman carrying two armloads of shopping bags bumps into me.

“Sorry,” she says in a sing-song voice that only annoys me more.

The place is packed with Christmas shoppers, and I scowl at the happy faces that look up at me when I pass.

“Holy crap.” A balding, middle-aged man corners me before I can make it to the door. “You’re Thunder Forrester.”

A few heads turn and look in my direction.

Shit.

“Wrong guy.” It’s not really a lie. The guy he thinks I am, that Thunder Forrester died along with his career. I try to push past him, but he sidesteps me and places a hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry to bother you. But I’d love to get an autograph for my son. He’s a big fan.”

A quick glance at the freckled-faced kid staring wide-eyed up at me, and I cave.

“Fine,” I mutter, taking the pen and paper the kid hands me, and scribbling my name.

“Thanks, buddy.” The man slaps me on the back. “What’re the odds meeting both the Forrester brothers on the same day. “You think I could get a picture with you both? I’d really…”

The man keeps prattling on, but all the noises of the café turn to static when I follow his gaze towards the far corner booth.

Bent over a cup of coffee, forearms stretched out on the table, my brother frowns at the woman sitting across from him.

Even though I can only see the slight profile of her face, I know it’s her.

Kennedy.

Yeah, what are the fucking odds?

They haven’t seen me, and if I was smart, I’d keep it that way.

But my feet feel like they’re glued to the floor, and despite the twisting sensation inside my chest, I can’t move.

The man is still hammering on, and I turn and give him a scathing look that has him raising his eyebrows and taking a step back.

Of all the fucking coffee shops in the city, Colin and Kennedy happen to be in this one. It’s like fate has it in for me. I didn’t even think the two of them were together anymore. At least that’s what the tabloids reported.

Two months ago, Colin was photographed making out with one of the Nelson twins; Abby or Gabby, it didn’t matter which one. The media loved the torrid affair between the country’s most famous bad boy hockey player and the Barbie doll cloned b-list actress.

I’d thought about trying to contact Kennedy when I read it, but what was the point? She’d made her choice. Time to live with the consequences.

My fingers form into knuckles at my side as I watch them. The two people that I loved most in this world. I wonder if they know what a fucking mess I’ve been since our last encounter?

How shredded I was when I found them in the hotel room together.

If they even cared.

Colin passes a small brown envelope across the table. Kennedy shakes her head vehemently and pushes it back.

“Don’t be so stubborn.” My brother's words, clearly laced with frustration, are loud enough for me to hear.

With her back to me, I can’t make out what she says, but whatever it is only makes Colin more irritated.

“I know what I promised, and it’s complete bullshit. This whole situation is fucked up.” He leans in and says something that makes her shake her head. “I’m done.”

She scoots over on the bench, and Colin reaches out and grabs her arm. “Please, I need you to—”

“No.” The way his nostrils flare, the curl of his lip, I can read what he’s feeling—disgust. “I won't be part of this.”

Something primal stirs in my chest, and despite my brain telling me to get the hell out of there, to let them deal with their own shit, I start towards them.

Tossing my coffee in the trash can, I push through the line of people waiting to order, then freeze when I see Kennedy more clearly. She leans over to collect her bag, then stands so I have a perfect view of her profile.

My breath catches in my throat, because underneath the layers of clothing, the oversized jacket, I witness the rounding of her stomach.

Fuck. That one, small sliver of hope that she’d ever be mine…gone. Just like that, my memory flashes, and I’m back, standing in the doorway of my brother’s hotel room, watching as Kennedy comes out of the bathroom wearing only a white towel wrapped around her perfect body.

That was months ago.

Fuck. Me.

I blink. Once. Twice. Not able, or willing to accept the reality in front of me.

She’s leaving, headed through the crowd towards the door, and all I can do is stand there and watch her walk out into the bitter cold of the city streets before disappearing around the corner.

She’s pregnant.

Those two words play over and over in my head like a broken record. I know little about pregnancy, but she must be maybe seven or eight months with how big she is.

My brother’s baby. That’s why she was here with him. My entire body is numb, humming with emotions I can’t even place. To think she’ll be connected to him like that, forever, it stirs a jealousy inside of me so strong that my body shakes.

She’s not yours, I remind myself, knowing logically that I have no right to feel the way I do.

But fuck right and wrong. Right now, all I want to do is the one thing I should have done months ago. Beat the living shit out of my brother.

“Liam?” Colin’s voice breaks through the static that’s kept me paralyzed.

My head snaps to where he’s standing, only a few feet from me now.

Face pale, dark brows drawn down, he looks confused. “You’re back?”

Anger. Red-hot and blinding blisters through me.

“You fucking asshole.” I lunge at him, my fist connecting with his jaw before he has a chance to brace himself.

Built like a tank, my punch doesn’t have the same impact it would have on any other man.

Colin stumbles back a few paces, but remains standing.

A woman’s shriek, the screech of chairs sliding back, and chaos ensues as people do their best to get out of our way.

I’m about to take another swing when Colin comes at me, hitting me with the full force of his two hundred and twenty pounds.

My fist lands a kidney shot, and he retaliates with an uppercut to the jaw that leaves me seeing stars. I grunt as my back connects against the wall.

“What the hell is your problem?” He’s got me pinned.

His fists grip the collar of my shirt, and he looks like it’s taking all his strength not to hit me again.

“She’s pregnant,” I hiss, tasting blood.

His grip loosens slightly, and I see it. The guilt. A quick sideways glance, the way his lips purse. There’s no denying it’s his.

“I wanted to tell you. But she asked me…” He shakes his head and sighs.

“To what?” I shrug him off, then push him away. “She asked you to what? Keep it from me?”

With a small shake of his head, he looks over his shoulder, and groans. Multiple people have their phones out, recording us.

Normally I would care. Right now, I don’t.

“You’re a real jackass, you know that?” I spit out.

His eyes narrow on me. “You’re the one who took off. Wouldn’t answer anyone’s calls.”

“I was dealing with some shit.”

“Yeah. You always are, aren’t you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stares at me for a long moment, the muscle in his jaw clenching, his nostrils flared.

When he doesn’t answer, I ask tightly, “What are you going to do about it?”

His eyes narrow and his chin tilts down. “About what?”

I have to clear my throat before I can say the words, “The baby.”

“What am I going to do about it?”

I can tell he’s trying to keep his cool because one eye twitches like it always does before he loses his shit.

“You plan on marrying her?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just pure, undiluted anger. “No. I’m not going to fucking marry her.”

“You think this is a joke? You think you can just walk away from her? From your child?”

“That’s what you think of me?” He sucks his bottom lip back over his teeth. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“She deserves better than this, than you.”

“Screw this. I’m done.” He turns and starts to leave.

“That kid needs a father, and—”

“You’re right.” He turns back, and despite the throng of people watching he gets in my face again. “But it sure as hell won't be me.”

“I always knew you were a coward.” I keep my voice low, steady, despite the seething anger that rolls through me. Digging my finger into his chest, I egg him on, “A no good piece of shit just like Dad. The kid’s better off without you.”

He doesn’t come at me like I hope he will. Instead, he stands there watching me, his expression unreadable.

The tension between us is practically tangible. His mouth twists, and his breathing comes out in small bursts, but I still can’t read what he’s thinking. Or maybe I don’t want to because what I think I'd see would gut me if I let it.

Screw him. He doesn’t get to be hurt. Not after everything he’s done. Everything he’s taken from me.

“Here.” Colin pulls the manila envelope from his pocket and shoves it against my chest. “Give this to her. Maybe she’ll take it from you.”

From the heaviness of it, I know it’s cash.

“You think you can buy your way out of this?”

“Yeah.” The corners of his lips twitch up, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “That’s what I’m doing. Buying my way out of this fucked up relationship.”

It’s impossible to miss the sarcasm that drips from each word. The hidden meaning I clearly don’t get.

“You’re an asshole,” I spit out, only wanting to see him as the villain in all this.

“I’m your brother. Maybe one day you’ll remember that.”

He turns and walks away. And I let him. Because he may be my brother, but he’s also the man that stole the only woman I’ve ever loved.

* * *

Chapter 2

Sixteen Years Old

Kennedy

“Let me see.”

“Come on, Kennedy.”

The Forrester brothers hover over me, their matching blue eyes full of mischief. Their sole purpose to obtain the small spiral notebook I clutch to my chest.

“No.” My cheeks burn with humiliation with what’s written inside.

“You always make us read your stories.” Liam—or Thunder as he insists on being called lately—sits on the couch beside me and places one arm around my shoulder. Dark, unruly hair falls over his forehead in waves, and he gives me one of his rare smiles. “Why not this one?”

“It’s personal.” My heart beats a little faster at the contact, which is silly because he’s practically family.

Our fathers had been friends since they were kids. And there wasn’t anything my dad wouldn’t do for the man and his sons, including pretty much adopting them after their mother passed away eight years ago.

Liam and Colin would stay with us when their father had to go out of town for work. Now they came by whenever he was on one of his benders.

Like right now.

Steve Forrester is a difficult man to like. My mom insists he wasn’t always so severe, that it was only after his wife’s death that he changed, became the insufferable ass who’s constantly yelling at Thunder, pushing him to be as good as Colin at everything, especially hockey.

Which is ridiculous because Liam is good.

Really good.

The problem is Colin is better. At seventeen, he’s already being scouted by some of the top teams, and will most likely be the first draft pick next year.

Most people think they’re twins because they’re in the same grade, but there’s actually eleven months between them.

Irish twins, my mom calls them.

And with Colin being born in January and Liam in December, it means they’re constantly competing against each other—at everything.

Hockey.

School.

Girls.

To call their relationship volatile is an understatement. I’ve never met two people who butt heads more often than they do. The only thing they seem to agree on is that no guy is or will ever be good enough to date me.

Not that I want to date just any guy. The one I want to date is sitting right beside me.

The one that is completely and utterly off limits.

Forearms already covered in ink, muscles tensing and rippling under his tight black t-shirt, Liam Thunder Forester doesn’t just look bad.

He is bad.

At least for me.

He’s everything I’m not.

Dark.

Dangerous.

And so damn sexy.

He’s already broken more hearts than I can count.

I sigh, still clutching the notebook to my chest. “Can we just watch a show or something?”

“Why all the secrecy?” Colin moves towards me, and I can tell he’s not going to let up. “What do you have in there? Your confession of who you’re crushing on?”

Liam grunts beside me.

I shake my head, but I know the heat that creeps up my cheeks gives me away.

“Shit. I’m right.” One blond eyebrow goes up, and Colin chuckles. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

I feel Liam tense beside me, then he pulls away slightly, so that he’s no longer touching me.

“How d'you guess?” I roll my eyes. “Who isn’t in love with you?”

“True.” Colin gives me a dimpled grin, the one that all the girls swoon over.

Everyone but me.

I love Colin. But not like that. He’s the closest thing to a brother I have. I know I should feel the same way about Thunder—but I don’t.

What I feel for him is… complicated.

“Leave her alone.” Thunder stretches back, clearly over teasing me, and turns on the television.

With a snort, Colin sits on the other side of me, sandwiching me between the two of them.

They’re both huge, almost an entire foot taller than me, and neither one has any qualms about taking up more than their share of the couch.

I know every girl in school would be jealous of me right now. My best friend Kiley lets me know at every opportunity how freaking lucky I am to be so close to the Forrester brothers.

What she and everyone else doesn’t believe is that there’s nothing but friendship between us.

I’ve been the subject of some pretty raunchy rumors because of my relationship with them, because of how much time we spend together.

But hell, I still haven’t even kissed a guy. Not really. Not unless you count New Year’s Eve.

Best night of my life.

Who needed fireworks when they’d shot off inside me like a million volts of electricity sparking every nerve in my body when Thunder’s lips had brushed against mine for a millisecond.

It was just once, and he’d been drinking. I doubt he even remembers it happening.

Me on the other hand, I can’t forget—no matter how hard I try. And I’ve tried. Because I know that nothing will ever happen between us.

Ever.

Thunder hates when anyone assumes we’re more than just friends. He gave Jeremy Hudson a black eye and bloody lip last year when the douchebag told half the school that I was having sex with both brothers.

Jeremy was just mad that I kept turning him down, but Thunder saw red, and it took five guys to pull him off the asshole.

He’s always been overprotective with me, which is why I know he’ll never see me as anything more than a friend; or worse, a little sister.

The three of us sit there in silence, watching the stupid football game that Thunder turned on.

I should be studying for mid-terms, or finishing my English assignment, but their father’s been on a four-day bender, one of his more violent ones, and I know neither one of them wants to go home.

With a heavy sigh, I snuggle into the couch, my notebook now thankfully forgotten.

Thunder’s knee touches mine. Barely. But I can feel the heat, the crazy electricity that pulses between us.

I freeze.

Butterflies.

My breathing speeds up and my palms start to sweat.

Get a grip, Kennedy.

Biting my bottom lip, I pray that he doesn’t notice my reaction. But I’m pretty sure the temperature in the room just raised ten degrees, because the back of my neck begins to sweat.

I wish I could go back to the way things used to be, before my body turned into an uncontrollable inferno of hormones around him, but the more I try to ignore my feelings, the worse they get.

Luckily, he hasn’t seemed to notice. And I plan to keep it that way, which is why I continue to clutch the damn notebook to my chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“This game is boring,” Colin says, and before I know what he’s doing, the book is snatched from my grip, and he’s jumping from the couch.

“Give it back!” My voice comes out in a shriek.

Colin laughs and starts flipping through the pages.

Fear burns a path up my throat. I never should have written what I did, but my English teacher asked us to make a detailed list of the people that have made the biggest impact on our lives, and what makes them unique.

The people I chose were my mom, dad, Colin, and…Thunder.

“What I like about Colin Forrester,” Colin reads, a cocky smile spreading across his face. His gaze meets mine, and he winks. “I knew it was about me.”

“It’s just an assignment for school.” My skin burns so hot, I swear it’s going to blister.

“Right.” He continues to smirk, then starts reading. “He’s kind. Funny. Always willing to help…”

I jump from the couch and try to snatch the book back.

Colin lifts it above his head and continues to read, “Smart. Confident. A good listener.”

“Don’t be a jerk. Give it back.”

Thunder continues to sit on the couch, not moving, gaze glued to the screen.

“I never knew you thought so highly of me.” Colin winks, teasing.

“Stop being an ass.” I hit his chest, praying that he doesn’t turn the page.

Too late.

His eyes go wide.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I know what he’s reading, and I want to crawl into myself

What I like about Thunder Forrester:

He’s my best friend

And I’m in love with him

The last line is scratched out, but it’s still legible.

Colin looks at me, brows lifted. “Love? Really?”

“Don’t.” I swallow hard, praying that he won’t say anything more.

“She said give it back.” Thunder jumps from the couch, rage in his voice.

For a heartbeat, the two of them stand nose to nose, the tension between them almost tangible. Thunder’s hands are fisted at his side, and I have no doubt that he’ll use them on Colin if he doesn’t do what he says.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

As light, and easygoing as Colin is, Thunder is as broody and temperamental.

You always know where you stand with Colin, but Thunder hides his emotions behind a mask of indifference, until he’s pushed too far and then you never know what he’s going to do. But it usually involves fists flying.

“What are you going to do about it?” Colin smirks, edging Thunder on.

“You want to find out?”

“Stop.” I get between them, which probably isn’t the smartest move, but I know they’ll be in an all-out brawl in ten seconds if I don’t. With a hand on both of their chests, I try to push them apart, which is really a stupid move considering I don’t even come up to their shoulders. I look up at Colin, who’s usually the more reasonable of the two. “Just give it back. Please?”

“Fine.” Colin hands the notebook back to me, but his gaze remains on Thunder as if expecting him still to strike out.

“Thanks,” I mumble, closing it before Thunder sees what’s written there.

I have no idea what passes between the two of them, but whatever it is stirs an animal-like growl in Thunder’s chest.

Colin just chuckles in response, then places a heavy arm over my shoulder, which only makes Thunder’s face turn a darker shade of red.

“Don’t worry.” Colin leans down, and whispers in my ear, “I already knew.”

Oh. If it’s possible, I swear I blush even harder.

He shakes his head at both of us, then saunters out of the room leaving me alone with Thunder, who continues to scowl after him.

When Thunder turns back to me, there’s blue fire in his eyes.

He looks angry. Really angry.

His nostrils flare, and his mouth presses into a hard line when he glances down at the notebook in my hand.

“What?” I chew on the inside of lip.

“Nothing.” He drops back on the couch heavily.

When I sit beside him he doesn’t put his arm around me like he usually does.

“It was only an assignment,” I mumble. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Did he see what I wrote about him?

“What do I care?” His gaze is sharp and as cutting as his words. “It’s just a stupid crush.”

A stupid crush.

Something inside my chest shatters. And I know in that moment that not only did he see what I wrote about him, but that he’s right, what I feel for him is nothing more than a stupid crush. And in that second, I hate him for it.

* * *

Chapter 3

Present

Thunder

Standing outside the rundown apartment, I glance up at the third-story window with its sunflower yellow curtains, and inhale roughly.

I shouldn’t be here. This isn’t my damn problem. But I can’t stop the voice in the back of my head demanding that I go to her. To make sure she’s all right.

A shadow darkens the window, then disappears.

Kennedy.

My pulse begins to race, and I curse myself for it.

She doesn’t want you, asshole.

I drag my fingers through my hair and exhale, then start up the cement steps towards the building.

Pressing the buzzer, I wait, but she doesn’t answer. I press again. Nothing.

I pull out my spare key, the one she gave me when I helped her move into this dump. I know I’ve lost my right to use it, but right now all I care about is getting the answers I should have asked months ago.

Instead, I’d left, went off the grid completely. Because seeing her with my brother, knowing she chose him over me, was like a knife to the gut. A soul-crunching agony that was far worse than any physical pain I’ve ever been in.

The elevator is out of order, so I walk the three flights of stairs. The place smells of mildew and rotting garbage, and there’s graffiti spray painted on the cement walls.

How the city hasn’t condemned this place is beyond me. But it’s cheap rent and with the shit salary Kennedy gets working at the Animal Shelter, I know it’s all she can afford.

It pisses me off that the animals she takes care of live with more luxury than she does.

But she’s too damn stubborn to accept help, even though I’ve offered multiple times.

Staring at the rusted metal numbers on the door, I grind my back teeth and give one brief hard knock.

The door opens slowly, and I see the shock in her gaze when it meets mine.

Dark hair frames her delicate face, falling over her shoulders in waves. Everything about her is perfect, almost fragile in its beauty. Soft, full lips, flawless skin, but it’s her eyes that have always intrigued me. The lightest brown rimmed with thick dark lashes. The color of caramel.

Those eyes hold my gaze now.

“Thunder?” A flash of something that looks like hope crosses her expression, then quickly vanishes, replaced by a mask of indifference. Her shoulders straighten, and her knuckles whiten on the door that she’s holding half-open in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

It’s a good question. One I haven’t figured the answer to.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A small exhaled breath leaves her. “He told you?”

No, he didn’t fucking tell me. Which pisses me off even more.

“Can I come in?” I rough a palm over my jaw, then rub the back of my neck, praying she doesn’t slam the door in my face.

With a small sigh, she opens the door wider. It’s then I see the baby bump that’s almost hidden under her baggy, gray t-shirt.

I grind my back teeth together as a fresh wave of red-hot jealousy rolls through me.

She should have been mine. The child growing inside her a part of me.

Colin doesn’t deserve her.

The thought of him touching her, kissing her, makes my insides turn to molten lava. I’ve never hated my brother as much as I do now.

An awkward silence stretches between us as I follow her into the bachelor apartment.

It’s exactly how I remember it. One room that consists of a living area-slash-bedroom, and a small kitchenette in one corner. Despite how meticulous she keeps the place, it’s hard to ignore the cracks in the plaster and the stains that she could never get out of the carpet no matter how much she scrubbed them.

The thought of her raising a child here twists my stomach.

“Do you want something to drink?” She moves to the far side of the room, clearly trying to keep as much physical distance between us as possible.

“No. I’m good.” I sit down on the futon that’s been folded to resemble a couch. I forgot how uncomfortable the damn thing is. It must be a nightmare to sleep on in her condition.

Her body language is stiff, forced, and she won’t meet my gaze when she sits down on the only real piece of furniture in the room, a brown recliner I bought for her two years ago. She’d fought me on it, until I convinced her I’d found it at one of those god-awful yard sales she was always trying to make me go to.

A white lie, but at least she took it.

She bites down on her bottom lip, hands moving protectively over her stomach.

I don’t know how far along she is, but there’s nothing to her. If anything, she looks like she’s lost weight.

Concern overrides my own unease.

“Have you been eating?”

Her gaze snaps to mine, and anger flashes there. “Is that what you came here to ask? To see if I’m capable of taking care of myself?”

“That’s not what I was implying. I just…”

“Just what?” With some effort, she stands, her back towards me. A quiver of emotion laces her words, “Don’t come here and act like you care. Just tell me what you want, then leave.”

The futon creaks when I stand. “I came… to…”

“To what?” She twists around, gaze hard on mine, almost daring me to say what I desperately want to.

When I don’t answer right away, she shakes her head.

The stubborn set of her jaw, the hurt and hostility emanating from her, tells me I should go, that she doesn’t want me here.

If I didn’t know her better, I’d believe the act.

Underneath the façade, I can tell she needs me. Even if she doesn’t want to admit it, she wants me here.

Her eyes are glassy from the tears she’s trying her best to hold back, and the small quiver of her chin tells me that the moment I walk out that door she’ll fall apart.

Not happening.

“I’m not leaving.” Despite her small protest, I remove the distance between us.

Cupping her jaw in my hands, so that my thumbs brush her cheeks, my fingers tangle in the silky, dark hair at the nape of her neck.

Forced to look at me, she sucks in a breath, and I see it—the spark.

The acceptance.

It’s real.

Always was.

I can’t believe her connection with Colin was ever this strong.

Or I don’t want to.

I tamp down the jealousy that threatens to boil up at the thought of him.

This is about her. About making sure she’s taken care of.

“I can’t…” Her eyes close and when they open again, I see the wall she’s built between us. She raises her hands, and places her palms on my chest like she’s going to push me away, but instead they just rest there.

“I’ve missed you.” It’s the truth. Despite everything, I can’t deny how much I care for her. How much I need her in my life. Even if it’s just as friends. I know that now.

Her body tenses, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt, and a small, almost silent sob escapes her lips. She buries her face in my chest, and I hold her until she finally lets the tears fall, and she melts into my body with the familiarity that has always been ours alone.