Chapter 8
JAYDEN
I never knew I could feel this content watching two people I love mauling each other in public. This is exactly what Eli needed—the physical reassurance that he hasn’t lost Finley.
As I watch them, a spark catches low in my stomach and licks up into my chest, filling me with the ache to be closer. My heart rams my ribs, frantic to set me in motion.
I manage two steps before Finley looks up, scanning until she finds me. A smile tugs one corner of her mouth as Eli hesitantly sets her back on her feet. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, draws her in, and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.
Panic, sharp and airless, stirs in my lungs when they glance at me. I see it now—the similarities between her and her piece-of-shit brother. The pale eyes. The upturned nose. Even the lighter blonde streaks are the same shade as his.
Finley is prettier, softer—her heart and soul are nothing like his—and yet, he’s all I see.
Ever since Eli told me what happened, I’ve been letting it drip through, slow and mean. Percolating until I can stack the feelings into boxes and lock them down. The last thing I want is to explode in front of Eli and make it worse. He’s had years of holding this. Years of carrying it like cancer.
And now I know. And I am not Eli. There is no logic, no reasoning, no twisted perception in this world that will contain my anger. I am sick with the need to ruin those sick sons of bitches for good.
Ryker Hallman.
Presley Tomes.
They’re going to pay for every ounce of hurt, every scar. I don’t know where to start without hurting Eli—but I know who does.
I pull my phone, open recent calls, and tap the third number from the top while I ease back into the shadow of a pillar. The giant pine draped in twinkle lights casts enough cover to make me feel unseen.
Two rings, and her voice blusters through the receiver. “JJ…”
“Hi, Momma,” I manage, trying to hold it together and failing, my voice a shaken warble.
“Sweetie,” she coos, soft and knowing, the tone she saves for when her kids are hurting. “Are you okay?”
I look up at Eli and Finley. Both of them are watching me like they’re waiting for me to come. And God, I want to—want to hold them and let their warmth seep into my cold bones—but I need to do something with this revolt and revulsion first, or I’ll ruin it all.
“JJ… Baby?” Momma prompts.
“I’m okay,” I say, gripping the phone. “I think… I don’t know…”
Dragging in a deep breath, I try to staunch the tears flooding my eyes, only for a dry sob to push from my chest, tearing past my lips.
“Is Eli okay, Sweetie?” She asks tentatively, because she knows.
Momma always knows when I care about someone, and I don’t just care about Eli. If we didn’t play for the same team, she would’ve already made a suggestive joke or two about us to nudge me to admit my feelings.
“I don’t know, Momma…”
Sure, we talked it out. But I’m not okay, and I didn’t live what Eli lived.
“Finley? How’s she doing?” Her voice warms. They bonded at Thanksgiving; Kailey’s friendship has only tightened that knot.
I look back as Eli guides Fin toward me. She’s flushed with happiness and stiff with worry all at once. “I think she’s okay.”
“Good,” Momma croons, releasing a deep breath, like Finley being okay makes her perception of the situation better. “Good, it’s one less person for me to worry about.”
Shit. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“If I don’t worry about my babies and their happiness, what else do I worry about, JJ?” A quiet chuckle ripples down the line, easing the thunder in my chest. “Worrying about you and your sisters keeps me strong.”
“Momma…”
“I’m pouring my second cup of coffee, and I’ve got my laptop open. The next flight to Miami leaves in two hours. That’s enough time for me to get to you for dinner.”
“No, don’t do that. I’m good… I’m okay…” She’s already spinning too many plates; Kailey’s recovery, Isla’s training. I didn’t call to drag her across the country. I called for perspective.
If she can beat death, I can get my head straight for Eli. I can move past my fury and show up for him and Finley.
“Jayden, there’s only one question I’m asking: should I bring The Sire with me?”
I picture him hearing what I know and going nuclear. “No, not The Sire.”
“You’re sure?” she drawls.
“I need level-headed, Momma. Facts and options. Can you ask Dad?”
“Dad?” Concern drops her voice. “Are you in trouble?”
“No.” Not yet. “I need to talk things through and get his advice.”
“Jayden—”
“I have to go now, Momma,” I say as Eli and Fin reach me. “I love you.”
“Love you more, Peanut.” A beat. “Give Finley a hug from me, and you tell Eli we’re all so dang proud of him.”
“Momma—”
“See you later, JJ,” she croons, and clicks off before I can ask her to cool the enthusiasm.
Momma doesn’t do cool. She does smothering love, or total exile, nothing between. It’s funny, given that her job is helping people navigate the gray.
“Your momma okay?” Eli asks, concern pinching his brows as I pocket my phone.
I nod, eyes tracing the line of his arm where it disappears behind Finley’s back. It takes a second to clear the wreckage in my head before I finally meet her gaze.
“Hey, Hotshot,” she says with a small wave.
I don’t know what to do now. How we’re meant to proceed. What’s okay and what’s not. This is new to me, and when there’s already so much going on, it’s overwhelming.
Every second we hold eye contact, the burn aches deeper. As much as she reminds me of Presley on the surface, beneath it, she is the only woman I’ve ever needed with every fiber of my being. Like her heartbeat is the one in my chest.
Her heartbeat.
The same one that echoed in Eli’s chest for years.
The same pulse that kept him living for me.
What kind of bastard am I to tarnish her with her brother’s crimes? What kind of asshole looks at her and sees anything but hope and love and beauty… and forever?
Shame swallows me. The pit I’ve been clawing out of caves deeper. I can’t find a steady point to fix on.
The last twenty-four hours crash over me, and holding it together feels like tearing at the seams.
I don’t know how to do this in silence. I was raised to speak and fight no matter what.
So how do I carry on like I’m not one breath away from burning down the world?
My gaze snaps to Eli, searching for the billion-dollar answer: How is he strong enough that this atrocity isn’t eating him alive?
With a gentle push, he nudges Finley toward me. Offering me the answer. His smile when I look at him knocks out the last of my restraint.
I catch Finley’s hand and tug her into me. The second her warmth hits my chest, I wrap her up, tuck her face under my chin, and bury my own in her hair.
That gorgeous scent of hers brings me home. To her. To Eli.
Fuck, I can finally breathe again.
Her arms loop tight around me, and when I lean back to look at her, she beams up, eyes wet, smile bright. Finley rises on her toes and kisses the corner of my mouth, just missing my lips.
I wish we were anywhere but here right now.
“You look kinda like how I feel,” Finley says, palm warm against my cheek. She swipes lightly, then lifts her finger between us with an eyelash perched at the tip. “You have to blow and make a wish. Don’t tell me what it is, or it won’t come true. Okay?”
“Can I tell Eli?” I tease, trying to match her light.
She scrunches her nose. “Do you want it to come true or not?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do,” I say, leaning in to peck the tip of her nose without disturbing her finger.
“Well,” she swallows, eyes on mine, “you can’t tell anyone, then.”
“All right. Blow, wish, secret. Got it.”
She turns the pad of her finger toward me. I meet her eyes and blow, making my wish.
I wish I could kiss you anytime, anywhere.
Finley bites her lip like she heard the wish anyway, rolling it between her teeth before sucking it in. Her chin tips back just enough, her mouth perfectly aligned with mine.
My gaze flicks to Eli at her back. He’s watching us closely. When he licks his lips, I know he wants me to kiss her.
He wants it. I want it. She wants it.
Fuck it.
Why shouldn’t I kiss her?
She’s ours.
Mine and Eli’s to kiss, to fuck, to love.
What does it matter where we are? Who’s watching?
If they don’t like it, they can look away, right?
Lowering my mouth, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Yes… Please,” Finley breathes as Eli commands, “Do it.”
“I really fucking missed you,” I groan against her parted lips, hovering a heartbeat longer to give her one last out.
Finley closes the distance in reply, mouth crashing into mine, hands molding to my face as she nips my bottom lip with a needy little sound. She holds my gaze until I lick into her, and when my tongue swirls over hers, her eyes roll back with a hum that vibrates down to my feet.
Fuck, she tastes good.
Fresh mint. Creamy coffee… and Eli.
So good, I deepen the kiss like I’m about to fuck her mouth, devouring every whimper, drinking every pant, breaking only to nip at her lip before taking more.
With her body bowing into mine, I lean over her until she’s encapsulated by me with Eli at her back. He flattens one hand to the top of her ass while the other anchors over mine on her waist.
Heat snaps through me. Muscles coil tight. My palm slides from her jaw to her throat, stroking down the long line of her neck.
Finley’s frantic pulse thunders into my fingertips, chasing my own. The beat sinks into bone, rolls lower to where her thigh presses my groin… friction, heat, and—
“Okay… okay… break it up, children!” We all freeze as Christina barrels into our bubble. “Seriously, I left you for two seconds. Two fucking seconds, Amish. You’re meant to be the sensible one.”
Finley groans, twisting in my arms to glare. “Your timing sucks.”
“Okay, so it was more than two seconds, but I got distracted. And anyway, this is not about me.” Christina steps back, glowering up at Eli and me.
Without heels, she has to crane her neck to scold.
“Hate to point out the obvious, but you’re in the fucking press.
That means keep your head down and behave…
not fucking do this,” she huffs, gesturing wildly at the three of us.
“Nobody can see us,” Eli says, nodding at the potted palm trees shielding us.
“That’s funny, because I saw you,” Christina shoots back, rolling her eyes as she plants fists on her hips. A smirk ticks up. “Your boyfriend is like a seven-foot giant, good luck hiding that in plain view.”
Finley and I freeze. My lungs clamp down, waiting for Eli’s reaction to her remark.
“Actually, JJ’s six-seven,” Eli says, casual as anything. He doesn’t correct her, just chuckles. “But I can see why you’d think he’s a giant from down there.”
“Touché, brother Eli.” Christina bursts out laughing with a snort that starts Finley off laughing, too, then Eli.
Meanwhile, I’m standing here, dumbfounded. My pulse is roaring. My head’s light. The giddy fizz is so strong I can’t even exhale.
She called me his boyfriend.
And Eli didn’t shut it down.
Holy. Fuck.