Chapter 7
Dylan
The late afternoon sun sits heavy over the yard, pressing down on everything.
The grill throws off another wave of heat, smoke rolling up in slow curls that carry the scent of char and spice across the space.
Someone laughs near the cooler, a bottle thuds onto wood, and music plays low enough that it fills the gaps between voices without taking over.
I barely track any of it.
Tess stands near the far end of the deck with a glass in her hand, her shoulder angled toward Clara as they talk.
The late sun catches along the edge of her hair where a few strands have worked loose from that tight knot at the back of her head.
She lifts the glass when Clara says something, but she doesn’t drink from it.
Just turns it slowly between her fingers while she listens.
She looks comfortable here.
Not relaxed exactly. Tess never fully relaxes.
There’s always awareness in her posture, in the way she positions herself slightly to the side instead of squarely in the middle of a group, giving herself room to move if she wants it.
But she isn’t guarded either. Clara shifts Lily higher against her shoulder, and Tess’s attention drops immediately, the change in her expression small enough that most people wouldn’t catch it.
I do.
The baby curls a fist against Clara’s shirt, making a soft, unhappy sound, and Tess smiles before Clara starts bouncing her gently.
The expression comes and goes quickly, there and gone in less than a second, but it changes her entire face when it appears.
Softer around the mouth. Warmer through the eyes.
My chest tightens before I can stop it.
I shift my beer from one hand to the other and look away toward the grill, toward Logan waving a pair of tongs around while Asher tells him he’s about to burn the food again.
Caleb laughs somewhere behind me. Someone else opens another beer.
The noise rolls through the yard in uneven waves, easy and familiar.
I should be paying attention to that.
Instead, my gaze slides back to her.
She still hasn’t looked in my direction.
Not once.
Something sharp settles under my ribs, low and irritating enough that I immediately push against it. She’s talking to Clara. Holding a conversation. That’s all. There’s no reason she should be scanning the yard looking for me like some teenager at a damn school dance.
The beer goes down colder than I expect, the sharp bite of it settling at the back of my tongue.
I keep my eyes on the grill, on Logan nearly smoking out half the yard while Asher swears at him for touching the burgers too early, but none of it really lands.
The noise blurs together after a while, voices and laughter folding into the thick summer air while my attention keeps pulling somewhere else.
Back to her.
And maybe that’s the part that gets under my skin most.
Because I want her to look for me, too.
I want her to feel this same restless awareness every time I step into a room.
I want her attention catching on me the way mine keeps catching on her, over and over again, no matter how many times I drag it somewhere else.
Instead, she stands there talking to Clara like the fact that I’m twenty feet away means nothing at all.
The thought sits uncomfortably in my chest.
I take another swallow of beer, longer this time, but it doesn’t wash the feeling down. If anything, the taste turns bitter halfway through, sharp enough that I grimace slightly as I lower the bottle.
Fuck.
A rough laugh almost escapes me before I bite it back.
This would be funny if it were happening to someone else.
But it’s happening to me. The guy who’s spent years moving through women without stopping long enough to let any of them matter. The one everybody jokes about because another assistant quits, and another blonde leaves my bed, and life keeps moving without so much as a scratch left behind.
And now look at me.
Standing in Jeremy’s backyard like some lovesick idiot because one woman won’t glance across the damn lawn often enough.
The realization settles slowly, heavy enough that I can’t shrug it off once it lands.
I’ve done exactly what my brothers did before me.
I fell for her.
Hard.
I take a step forward, then another, cutting past Logan and Asher while they argue over the grill. Caleb glances up as I pass, his gaze flicking toward Tess before settling briefly on me. Something in his expression shifts, subtle but knowing enough that irritation flashes hot under my skin.
Apparently, I’m not hiding this nearly as well as I thought.
Before I can reach the deck, Jeremy steps into my path. He doesn’t block me outright. Just shifts enough that I either stop or walk straight into him.
“Help me grab another case from the garage.”
The words sound casual enough that nobody nearby pays attention. Clara keeps talking to Tess without even glancing our way.
I follow him around the side of the house anyway.
The farther we move from the yard, the duller the noise becomes.
Laughter fades behind the wall of the building until it sounds distant and muffled, the music little more than bass vibrating faintly through the warm evening air.
Gravel crunches under our shoes as Jeremy stops beside the truck parked near the detached garage and turns toward me.
The relaxed expression he wore back there is gone.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I lean one hand against the truck bed, more to bleed off some of the pressure riding under my skin than because I need the support. “You’re going to have to narrow that down.”
“With Tess.”
There it is.
I look away briefly, jaw tightening as I drag a hand over the back of my neck. The heat hasn’t let up, even with the sun starting to drop, and sweat slicks the skin between my shoulder blades.
“She works for me.”
Jeremy’s stare doesn’t shift. “Don’t insult me by pretending that’s all this is.”
Something sharp twists low in my chest.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I straighten away from the truck slowly, irritation building fast enough that I can feel it tightening through my shoulders. “You told me she could handle the job. She can.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”
His voice stays low, but the anger underneath it lands hard anyway. Jeremy rarely loses his temper. The fact that he’s this controlled tells me exactly how serious he is.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Then say what you mean.”
“I trusted you with her.”
The words hit clean enough that my stomach tightens.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
Jeremy studies my face, waiting, probably expecting me to brush this off the way I always brush things off. Usually, I could. Usually, I’d already be halfway through some sarcastic response designed to kill the conversation before it got uncomfortable.
Nothing comes.
Because the second he says trusted, all I can think about is Tess standing in my office with my hand against her jaw.
Tess sitting across from me in meetings while I try not to stare at her mouth.
Tess laughing softly at something Clara said five minutes ago while I stood across the yard wanting her attention on me instead.
The silence stretches too long.
Jeremy sees it happen.
His expression hardens as he looks at me, his eyes narrowing slightly like pieces are locking together in his head faster than either of us can stop them. Then his face changes completely.
“Jesus Christ.”
The words come out rough.
His stare drops briefly to my mouth, my chest, my hands, like he’s suddenly seeing every moment from the last few weeks differently.
Then his gaze snaps back to mine.
“You fucked her.”
For a second, all I do is stare at him.
That second is enough.
Jeremy’s fist drives straight into my stomach before I can get a word out. Pain detonates through my abdomen so hard it folds me forward despite every instinctive attempt to brace for impact. Air leaves my lungs in a violent rush while gravel shifts beneath my boots as I stagger backward.
“Fuck,” I choke out, dragging in a breath that burns all the way down.
Jeremy advances immediately.
“You promised me.” His voice comes rough and furious now, years of friendship doing absolutely nothing to soften it.
The words drag the memory up immediately. Jeremy’s office after hours. The quiet tension sitting between us while he watched me too carefully and said the one thing I already knew before he opened his mouth.
Don’t make this complicated.
“You looked me in the eye and promised me you wouldn’t touch her.”
Another shove slams into my chest before I fully straighten. My back hits the side of the garage hard enough to rattle the metal siding.
Something hot flashes through me then.
Instinct.
Adrenaline.
Pride.
I shove him back.
Jeremy stumbles half a step before surging forward again, grabbing a fistful of my shirt. The fabric strains sharply across my shoulders as we slam together, boots grinding through gravel while the smell of gasoline, hot metal, and cut grass closes thick around us.
“She works for you, you selfish asshole.”
The words hit almost as hard as the punch.
I grab his forearm and wrench him sideways on reflex, turning hard enough to break his grip. Jeremy swings immediately after, fist clipping hard across my jaw this time. Light flashes briefly across my vision.
“Fuck.”
Pain blooms hot along my cheekbone.
My body reacts before thought catches up. I drive forward and slam him backward into the garage wall. The impact rattles everything hanging inside hard enough that tools clatter loudly somewhere beyond the metal.
Jeremy grunts and drives his shoulder straight into my ribs.
We grapple for position more than anything else, years of old football reflexes and roughhousing kicking in automatically. Nothing clean about it. No controlled punches or practiced technique. Just anger and momentum and too much history packed between us.
“You think this is funny?” Jeremy shoves at my chest hard enough to force me back another step. “You burn through women like cigarettes, Dylan.”
The words land ugly because part of me knows exactly why he believes them.
Jeremy comes at me again, and this time I catch his wrist before the punch lands. Gravel crunches beneath our boots while we strain against each other, both breathing hard now.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Bullshit.”
His free hand slams into my side. Not clean. Not enough to drop me. Enough to hurt.
My temper snaps briefly.
I shove him harder than necessary, sending him stumbling backward into a stack of storage bins near the wall. Plastic crashes loudly onto the concrete floor inside the open garage.
Silence crashes down with it.
Both of us stand there breathing hard.
Jeremy wipes at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand while glaring at me like he barely recognizes me anymore. My jaw throbs in time with my pulse, and I can already feel bruises forming across my ribs and stomach beneath my shirt.
Jeremy drags a hand across his mouth and stares at me for a long second, chest still rising hard from the fight.
Then he huffs out a humorless laugh.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” His eyes narrow slightly as they move over my face. “You already look at her like she matters more than your own common sense.”
The words hit somewhere deep enough to still me completely.
Because he’s right.
I feel it all at once with terrifying clarity. The constant awareness of Tess every time she walks into a room. The way my entire day shifts depending on her mood. The irrational possessiveness clawing through me anytime another man looks at her too long.
This stopped being lust a while ago.
My hands loosen slowly at my sides.
The fight drains out of me so fast that it leaves me feeling briefly unsteady. I straighten fully, chest still heaving from adrenaline while gravel shifts softly beneath my boots.
Jeremy watches me carefully now, anger still riding him hard enough to sharpen every line of his face. He looks ready for another swing.
Instead, I hear myself say, “I’m in love with her.”
The confession leaves me rough and unfiltered, stripped clean of every layer of control I usually keep wrapped around things that matter.
Jeremy goes completely still.
So do I.
Because the second the words exist outside my head, I realize they’re true.
Not obsession.
Not possession.
Not the reckless physical pull that’s been driving me half insane since Tess walked into my office wearing that sharp little suit and looking at me like she already knew exactly how dangerous this was going to become.
Love.
The realization settles heavily into my chest while my pulse still pounds hard from the fight.
I swallow once.
“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy mutters again.
This time, he sounds stunned instead of angry.