CHAPTER ELEVEN

DANIEL

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I hate leaving Mira alone in a place she doesn’t know, surrounded by sounds she’s not familiar with. I hate the thought of her sitting alone in her room, but I need to talk to Christian. She’s right about that.

One drink, I promise myself. One quick drink and we’d get back.

But Jefferson doesn’t have bars and I’m not driving five hours to find one.

We return to the empty diner and take the same booth from that morning where Mira had left a sweet puddle across the seat.

I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. Seeing her with Christian, seeing them together, watching his face as she cleaned his face was only a sliver to the shifting. To the anxious fidgeting in the seat between us. I tried to ignore her restlessness, but something in her sweet pain had propelled me to touch her, to feel for myself just how close she was.

Reckless.

Stupid and reckless.

I let myself get carried away.

Still ... God, I was so close.

“You said drinks,” Christian grumbles, sliding in across from me.

“I’m driving and you don’t need it. Besides, coffee is a drink.”

My brother rolls his eyes but says nothing when a girl of twenty arrives at our table. I don’t recognize her and the way she smiles at us makes me think she doesn’t recognize us either.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” she asks sweetly, but her light, hazel eyes keep sweeping to Christian.

“Just two coffees, please,” I say.

She casts Christian a longer side eye. “Nothing to eat?”

I shake my head, but she’s not interested in what I have to say.

Christian grins at her that way girls find weirdly irresistible. “What are you offering?”

The girl’s cheeks darken and she stammers something about the special being soup, and I have to resist the urge to kick my brother under the table.

He must have caught my annoyance because he finally says, “Coffee is just fine for now.”

Clare, according to her nametag pinned neatly to her uniform, flutters her lashes and promises to be right back with our coffees before hurrying off.

“What?” Christian mutters when I raise an eyebrow.

“Flirt on your own time. I have to get back to Mira. I don’t like her being there alone this late.”

“All right, so, talk.”

Christ, where to even begin? It feels like we have a decade of unresolved shit we need to sort through and about five minutes to get it all sorted. I almost regret not saving this chat for the morning when I’m not anxious about Mira. Maybe I should have brought her with us. It’s not like we’re talking about anything top secret.

But we might.

Maybe not top secret, exactly, but there’s so much I haven’t told her, so many dark pockets of past I’m too scared to let her into. But I’m going to have to. Now that we’re back in Jefferson, it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.

“Danny?”

I suck in a breath and face my brother. “Sorry. Just...”

“Thinking about Mira?” he finishes when I trail off.

My chuckle is weak. “Always, it seems. She’s the only thing on my mind most days.”

“You really love her, huh?”

I drop back against my seat. “It’s hard not to. I don’t know what it is, but ... I feel lost without her.”

He seems to consider my words a moment before asking, “Do you think it’s because her mom died? You guys were really close, right?”

I’d thought about that after Sam passed and Mira became my responsibility. I thought maybe it’s because I missed Sam that I was deflecting my feelings onto Mira, but...

“That’s not it.” I scratch my chin, trying to collect my thoughts. “Did I ever tell you how I met Sam?”

Christian’s face scrunches up in thought. “I don’t think so.”

Memories of that dark, snowy night is always so clear in my mind. I can still feel the sharp bite of winter cutting through my clothes, despite the heater in the truck blasting at full speed.

“I took a wrong turn in a snowstorm,” I suck in a harsh breath and exhale it equally hard. “It was one of those wild ones that blind you to everything past the hood of your car, you know? I was leaving the jail after visiting a client and got myself all turned around. Wound up on this random bridge.” I frown and drop my gaze to the table. “She was on the wrong side of the railings.”

I don’t look up at the sound of Christian’s sharp hiss.

“She’d lost everything. Life kept kicking her down and she couldn’t find her footing. Somehow, I managed to talk her over and the whole time ... the whole fucking time, all I could think about was Mom. If someone had been there to talk her off the ledge, would she still be here?”

“Danny...”

I wave his quiet murmur away. “I know, but I had to help her. Maybe a selfish part of me thought maybe it would make up for not helping Mom.”

“Jesus.”

Thankfully, Clare took that moment to return with our steaming mugs, a pitcher of cream and a bowl of mixed sugar packets.

She asked us if we needed anything else and Christian thanked her while I dragged my mug closer and pressed my palms into the scalding sides.

“You were a kid,” he tells me once we’re alone again. “We both were.”

“We knew she was sad,” I remind him. “We knew what she had to live with every day.”

“What she chose to live with,” Christian cuts me off with a hiss. “She refused to leave, Danny. How many times did Grams beg her to pack us up and take us to her place, to leave him before he killed her?”

“Point is that Sam and I just clicked. We kind of saved each other. It wasn’t love. I mean, I loved her, but I was never in love with her. I never saw her as more than a friend and I know she felt the same. Her only want and desire in life was to see her daughter again. That’s all she wanted. Mira was everything to her and all she talked about.

I’d never met Mira before she came to live with Sam. The only photos Sam had were years old, but we tried to get the restraining order revoked. Tried to get her case reopened. We fought for years.” I pause to tear open a sugar packet. No idea which one. The fine, white grains spills into my black brew and dissolve. “In the end, Mira’s best friend and boyfriend were killed in a head on collision the same afternoon Mira caught them in bed together.”

“Jesus Christ,” Christian groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Her dad died two months later. A freak accident with a machine he was fixing at the factory he worked at.”

“Seriously?”

I nod and pick up another packet. “Mira was seventeen by the time Sam was finally allowed to see her. By then, she was already at the end of her life and only lived two horrifically painful months before passing.” I scrub four fingers across my brow. “I married Sam because it was the only way she was going to get the care she needed. I didn’t even think about Mira or the feelings I would have for her because she didn’t exist to me. My best friend was dying and all I wanted was to take care of her. When Sam was finally at peace, I found myself responsible for this stranger. A teenager of all things. I’d only known her a few months by that point and I liked her. She was sweet and funny but broken. I was terrified of what she might do once she lost Sam. I was scared of leaving her alone, scared when she was quiet too long. I refused to leave her side for a month after the funeral just in case. Camped out in a chair in her room, which she told me was super creepy—”

“Agreed,” Christian chimes in.

I feel myself grin even as I roll my eyes. “But I couldn’t lose her, too, and I didn’t want her to think she was alone.”

“So, when did you start falling for this little seventeen-year-old child?”

I flick the packet in my hand at his face. He tries to deflect, but it smacks into his chest and falls into his lap.

“I didn’t,” I snap. “Not when she was seventeen, damn it. It was months later. She was already eighteen and it was an accident.”

Christian snorts. “How do you accidentally fall in love with your stepdaughter?”

“Will you stop that? I’m trying to be serious here.”

Christian puts his hands up. “I’m messing with you.”

I almost consider stopping. I’ve already told him too much and I feel raw and bare, but despite his teasing, I know Christian isn’t judging me. I know I can trust him.

“I just looked up one day and ... saw her. It sounds stupid because I saw her every minute of every day, but I...”

I pause to gather what I’m trying to say. The explanation is there, but the formation of words isn’t.

“I missed her all the time, even when she was in the next room. I loved the way her laugh sounded, the way she’d light up when I got home, the way...” My brows crease as I unspool the rest, “the way she fits. Just fits. In my arms. In my life. In my heart. She just ... fits. I considered maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m a sick fuck for needing her to love me so badly I feel lost without it, but ... I can’t live without her, Chris. I love her so much it actually physically hurts in my chest.”

My brother is silent a long moment. The missile sugar packet twists between his fingers. He watches it while deep in thought.

“She loves you, too,” he says at last. “It’s really hard to miss.”

I sigh heavily. “I know. I know she does. I know she wants to take things further ... wants me to...”

“Fuck her?” Christian shoots me a grin. “Oh, you have no idea how badly that girl wants you to rail her into next week.”

“Trust me, I fucking know. It’s been...” I shove all ten fingers back through my hair viciously. “I haven’t jerked off this much since I was a teenager. My dick is raw.”

“That’s disturbing information, but seriously, what the fuck, dude? Why are you torturing you both?”

“Because ... what if it’s trauma? What if she wants me because I’m all she has? What if she thinks this will fix her loss? What if we do this and ... and it’s not what she actually wants, and I hurt her and ... and I lose her...”

“Whoa, slow down. That’s a lot of what if’s . You are seriously overthinking this.”

I shake my head. “It took me months to convince her that she’s not going to lose me. Months of proving to her that I’m not going to die every time I left the apartment. I was late by five minutes texting her after getting to work and she was a hysterical mess. She still has nightmares almost every night. She wakes up screaming and I have to swear to her that I’m real. I’m almost terrified of dying because I don’t know what will happen to her. What if this need to fuck is just another part of that fear?”

Christian shrugs. “What if it is? What if this is exactly the thing she needs to finally feel whole?” He taps the sugar packet on the table a couple of times, expression thoughtful. “Is that why you’ve been pushing her on me?”

I blink, taken aback by the audacity. “Excuse me?”

“You were going to let me finger fuck her right where you’re sitting not fourteen hours ago. Back at the grocery store, not a single comment about what I did to her in the treat aisle. You want me to fuck her so you don’t have to.”

“No!” the word shreds through my teeth before I can stop myself, but the truth of the matter is, I have no backup defense.

He’s not entirely wrong, but he’s not right either.

I want Christian to rail Mira. I want him to use her. I want her to be our pretty fuck toy, but I’m terrified of being wrong. The consequences drastically outweigh the desires. I am happy dying with only my hand as company if I just have Mira.

“You’re wrong,” I try slowly and still fail.

My brother studies my face, his search level and too knowing. “You want to share her?”

My gaze drops to my cold drink because that’s exactly what I told Mira back at the diner.

Me. Christian. No one else.

I couldn’t have been clearer. Then the stuff at the table and the grocery store.

God, what am I doing?

“I don’t know. Adding a whole other person could make things worse. It could scare or confuse her.”

“Well, what the fuck do you want, Daniel?” Christian cries.

“I don’t know!” I snap back. “I don’t fucking know, okay?” I say again, lowering my voice when Clare gives a start behind the register and looks up towards our table. “I haven’t even talked to Mira about any of this. I’m ... I’m worried tomorrow, she’ll decide today was a mistake. I’m worried she’ll think I don’t love her because I let you touch her. I’m worried I let my own needs cloud my judgment and acted with the wrong head.”

“You need to stop thinking,” Christian mutters. “Instead, consider actually talking to her. She’s not stupid. She’s not a child. She knows what she wants and she’s been telling you. Eventually, she’s going to give up and move on to someone else. So, either stop being a little bitch and fuck her or get the fuck out of the way so I can.”

I stare at the other man, torn between acknowledging the truth of his words and throwing my coffee in his face.

“You know, this isn’t at all why I wanted us to come here and talk, right?” I grumble, unable to stop the grin I can feel creeping over my face.

Christian shrugs. “Honestly, it’s the only thing I wanted to talk about.” He settles back against the bench and stretches his arms across the back. “She’s fucking with my head.”

I frown. “Who?”

He shoots me a dry glower. “Who else? The little brat at home.” He raps his knuckles against the plastic. “She’s making me crazy.”

Despite the annoyance furrowing his brows, I almost laugh. “She does that. Gets you all twisted up and confused.”

Christian scoffs. “Pretty sure her smile alone can save the planet.”

I do laugh then. It bursts out of me at the irritation darkening my brother’s face.

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for my baby,” I only half tease.

The other man groans and rubs a palm over his face. “Ask me tomorrow. My crotch still smells like her pussy, and I can’t be trusted to make informative decisions right now.”

My heart claps in my chest. “Did you...?”

His gaze lifts too slowly up to mine, his grin mocking. “Put my cock in her tight hole? No.”

I wait for him to expand, to elaborate. He knows I fucking need the details, but the asshole only smirks when I scowl.

“Prick.”

He snorts into the rim of his coffee mug. “You should ask her. Then, you should throw her on the bed, spread those beautiful legs and lick her pussy until she cums. Once she does, put your cock in her pussy and fuck her.”

I raise an amused eyebrow. “Is that how that works? Thanks.”

“I figured it’s been a while since you apparently have blisters.”

“I never said I had blisters, you dick!”

He bats his eyes while taking a long sip of his drink. “No judgment. Some women like that ribbed texture, but just saying a wet, warm pussy is so much better, especially Mira’s. I just know she’s going to destroy us both but fuck if I’m not excited.”

He’s not wrong; Mira absolutely is going to destroy us, but it’s the only acceptable way I will happily go.

I tuck further Mira conversations aside, needing to focus on the other matters at hand.

“What happened last night?” I pick up a spoon and stir my coffee absent-mindedly. “Last I saw you, you were heading to bed. How’d you get arrested?”

Christian settles back in his booth. Long arms extend across the back. Everything about him assures the people around him that he’s calm and unbothered but I know my brother too well for that.

He’s annoyed.

“I already told you. I went for a drive to clear my head. Brewer’s troll was parked in the bushes. Pulled me over.” The knuckles on his left hand raps sharply on the plastic edge three times. The only show of his frustration. “I wasn’t drinking, okay? I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t risk my baby being that stupid. I sure as shit wouldn’t drink and drive. Besides, it was three in the morning, where the fuck would I get booze from?”

I drag in a breath. I believe him. Christian’s a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. He definitely wouldn’t risk his bike.

“This whole thing is a shit show. Fuck!” I drag five fingers back through my hair, frustrated.

“Ya think?” he mutters. “Almost didn’t fucking come. Fuck that place. Burn it down.”

“It’s Mom’s home,” I murmur quietly to the table top.

“It was Mom’s prison. She hated it. She hated him. She was scared and alone, and not a single motherfucker in that town did a thing about it. They knew what he was doing to her. To us. But Dad being Ryan fucking MacAllister, town hero, piece of shit dirt bag, everyone turned a blind eye.”

He isn’t wrong.

Jefferson protected its own. It forged a wall of iron around itself to keep its good name clean.

Ryan MacAllister’s wife cut her wrists in the tub? Well, Jesus will sort her out, but poor Ryan. So strong having to raise two boys on his own.

That alliance died quickly and without mercy when Christian and I were caught in bed with the reverend’s daughter, balls deep in her ass and pussy.

It crashed and burned to hell cinders when we killed her brother.