Chapter Fourteen
Thorne
The fire’s burned down enough that most of them have stopped pretending this is still a party and slipped into that half-cut, knackered state where no one wants to be the first one to call it a night.
Revel’s sprawled out in the sand with Cece curled into his side, which is only happening because she’s pissed enough to forget she usually acts like touching him might kill her. He’s loving every second of it too, smug bastard, one arm wrapped around her like he’s finally won something.
Come morning, she’ll regret the lot of it and pretend none of us saw a thing.
Everyone knows they’re into each other. Everyone except Cece, apparently. Or maybe she knows and just refuses to admit it no matter how hard Revel tries to wear her down.
Reign’s got Lena tucked against him, one arm around her while he stares into the flames like he’s finally learned how to sit still.
Bexley’s vanished inside a hoodie that clearly isn’t hers, and Draygon’s leaning by the cooler with a beer in hand, quiet as ever, watching the lot of us without looking like he is.
For once, nobody’s kicking off, racing, or trying to launch themselves into the sea.
They’re just there.
Loose. Comfortable. Like this weird little bunch of lunatics has somehow become a proper family.
Talon’s been less of a prick with Echo today.
He’s still blunt as fuck, obviously, and keeps half an eye on her like he’s waiting for her to cause another disaster, but the edge has eased off. He’s started treating her more like family and less like an unexploded bomb someone’s left in the paddock.
Which is bloody hilarious, really.
The bloke finds out she’s been carrying on with three of his riders, nearly does himself an injury trying not to lose his shit, then apparently decides now’s the perfect time to start playing protective big brother.
Fair play to him, I suppose.
I’m still a bit sore about the whole thing.
Just not enough to stop wanting her.
That’s the proper pisser of it.
None of my feelings have gone anywhere. Not the ones I’ve got for Echo.
And definitely not the ones I’ve got for Wolfe.
If anything, the whole mess has only made them worse.
Lovely.
Absolutely fucking lovely.
I’ve spent most of the night trying to get Echo on her own, which is apparently impossible unless I submit a formal request and wait three to five working days.
Every time she moves, someone else gets there first. The girls drag her off toward the water. Sayshen nicks her for food.
Then Wolfe took her out on one of the jet skis.
And I nearly walked straight into the sea and let the tide carry me all the way back to Peckham.
Not because I’m jealous.
I’m not, alright maybe a bit.
Oi, fuck off.
The point is, I need to talk to her. She’s the only person here I can say any of this bollocks going on in my head to without feeling like I’m about to crawl out of my own skin.
Which is painfully inconvenient, considering she’s also tangled up in the middle of it.
Eventually, Echo slips away from the fire with two empty bottles in hand and heads toward the bins beside the house.
I’m on my feet before common sense can get a word in.
Revel looks up immediately. “Where you going?”
I stare at him.
Why is he always watching me?
Does the bloke not have hobbies?
“Piss off.”
“That doesn’t even answer the question.”
“It wasn’t meant to, mate.”
Revel looks genuinely offended. “Damn. Someone’s in a mood.”
I glance at Cece curled into his side and smirk. “Easy for you to say. You’re only this cheerful because she’s pissed enough to be all over you.”
His arm tightens around her as his grin turns smug. “She likes me.”
“Course she does. Shame she’ll wake up tomorrow, remember she’s meant to hate you, and spend breakfast pretending this never happened.”
Revel’s smile dips just enough to make me laugh.
“Fuck you,” he says, but he’s grinning.
I clap him on the shoulder as I pass. “Enjoy it while it lasts, mate. Your ego’s got until morning.”
Revel’s grin turns smug again when Cece shifts closer against him.
That’s my cue to fuck off before he starts offering relationship advice like he hasn’t spent months being publicly rejected by the same woman currently using him as a pillow.
I grab a couple of empties from beside the fire and head after Echo, pretending I’ve suddenly developed a sense of responsibility instead of blatantly following her.
Absolute bollocks, but at least I’ve committed to it.
She’s already by the bins when I come around the side of the house, tipping the bottles into the recycling.
Her long, thick dark hair hangs loose down her back, wild from the salt and wind.
The day’s left her skin sun-kissed, and the tiny denim shorts and bikini top aren’t doing much to help the part of my brain still determined to want her despite being properly fucked off.
That’s the irritating bit.
I am fuckin’ hurt.
More than I want to admit, even to myself.
But one look at her, and the anger doesn’t stand a chance of being simple. It’s still there, sharp and stubborn, but so is everything I feel for her.
It's bloody inconvenient.
Echo glances at the bottles in my hand and smiles. “Well, look at you helping. Apparently everyone else is too drunk to give a shit.”
I drop the empties into the bin. “Right well don’t get used to it. I’ve got an image to maintain.”
“Of course. Moody British prick with hidden depths and a tragic love for boy bands.”
“Oi. Nothing tragic about it.”
“You know all the words.”
“That’s called taste, love.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, though.”
“No problem.”
I lean one shoulder against the wall beside her, trying to sound casual when my stomach’s tied itself into a fucking knot.
“Fancy a chat?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, and there it is.
Guilt.
She looks like she’s been waiting for me to bring this up and dreading it every second.
“Yeah,” she says. “We probably should.”
“Probably.”
She drops her eyes to the bottle cap she’s turning between her fingers. “Before you say anything, I know I handled everything badly.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Her mouth twists. “I deserve that.”
I fold my arms across my bare chest, more to give my hands something to do than anything else. I’m still in nothing but black swim shorts, skin tight from the salt drying over it, tattoos disappearing beneath the waistband and climbing all the way up my neck.
Echo’s gaze flicks over me before dropping to the bottle cap she’s worrying between her fingers.
I should let her sit in it.
Part of me wants to.
The part that keeps replaying every conversation we had about Wolfe while she was carrying around a whole other secret. The part that feels like a complete mug for letting her see things I’ve barely admitted to myself.
My jaw tightens, and I look past her toward the beach before I say something harsher than I mean.
But she looks genuinely fucking miserable. Shoulders drawn in, hair falling forward as she stares at her hands like she’d rather be anywhere else.
And I know her well enough now to know this wasn’t some game.
That doesn’t make it hurt less.
Just makes it harder to stay properly angry.
“I wasn’t trying to play any of you,” she says. “I know it probably looked like that, but I wasn’t. I just… didn’t know how the hell to handle it.”
I keep my arms folded across my chest, but some of the tension leaves my shoulders.
Echo twists the bottle cap between her fingers. “I’ve never felt something for three guys before. Let alone three guys who are on the same team, friends with my brothers, and all tangled up in each other’s lives.”
“Yeah, bit of a nightmare.”
“Exactly.” She lets out a breath. “Every time I thought about telling you all, it felt like I was about to throw a grenade into the garage. So I kept putting it off, and somehow convinced myself waiting would make it easier.”
“Yeah, well, hiding it didn’t exactly make it less of a bloody mess.”
“I know.”
Her voice goes quiet.
“I feel like shit about it, Thorne. Especially with you.”
That lands harder than I expect.
“Why especially me?”
She looks at me then. “Because you trusted me.”
My jaw tightens.
“You let me in about Wolfe,” she continues. “You told me things you clearly don’t talk about with anyone else, and I was sitting there with all this other shit going on that you didn’t know about.”
I look away toward the beach.
She’s right.
I did trust her, more than I meant to.
And finding out she’d been keeping something that big from me made every conversation feel different after the fact. Like I’d been standing there with my chest cracked open while she was still trying to work out whether she could trust me with all of hers.
“I should’ve told you,” she says. “I should’ve told all of you.”
“Would’ve been nice.”
“I know.”
For a moment, neither of us says anything. The music drifts around the side of the house, muffled by the wind, and somewhere near the fire Revel laughs loud enough to carry.
I unfold my arms and rub a hand over the back of my neck.
“Talking about Wolfe wasn’t easy for me.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “I know.”
“No, I mean it was properly fucking awful.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Felt like I was handing you a loaded weapon and hoping you wouldn’t use it against me.”
“I never would.”
“I know that too.”
The answer comes easier than I expect.
I look at her then, really look at her. Guilty, worried, waiting for me to decide whether this changes everything.
“It hurt finding out you’d kept all that from me,” I say. “But despite everything, I’m glad it was you.”
Her brows pull together slightly. “What?”
“I’m glad it was you who dragged me out of my bloody shell.” I look toward the water, where Wolfe is standing alone near the surf. “You made me realize there’s nothing wrong with how I feel. That I’m allowed to be myself, even if I’m still working out what the fuck that means.”
Her expression softens.
“And you made it feel okay to want him,” I add quietly. “To want Wolfe without treating it like something I should be ashamed of.”
Her face softens. “Thorne—”
“Don’t make it soppy.”