Chapter 1
“On The Naughty List”
Sixteen Years Earlier
The first Christmas after Mom passed, Dad went overboard with gifts, but none of them captured the holiday spirit. An impenetrable, dull haze had lingered over all of them since the funeral. Everything felt hollow without Mom.
It had been forty-one days, six hours, and roughly thirty minutes since their world shattered. The shock lingered, but they each performed a masterful job of hiding their grief.
Greyson spent most days in the shed, building God knew what out of wood he’d salvaged from last winter’s pile. Soren self-medicated by drinking in the woods with friends. And Logan stayed up all night playing video games.
Their father didn’t want to face reality, so he drowned out the emotional fallout with gifts, games, and investments in youth clubs and sports. They all feared being sent away to boarding school, so they suppressed any grief that threatened to escape.
Once all the overcompensating presents had been opened that Christmas, none significant enough to penetrate the numbness left in their mother’s absence, they drifted off to various parts of the house.
It didn’t feel like Christmas. There was no tree, no cookies, no Mom.
Their father had left the house before dinner, claiming he had business to handle. The three of them returned to the den and sprawled out on the furniture, silent but together. At least they had their newest distraction to keep them occupied—state-of-the-art laptops.
Logan could use his for gaming. Soren would likely use his for school. And Greyson, well, he didn’t really see much use for technology until…
A breathy, female moan broke the silence.
Logan’s head snapped up in confusion, and he frowned. Another soft sigh keened through the silence, and Logan’s eyes widened. “What is that?”
“It’s not me.” Soren slammed his laptop shut and leaned over to peer at Greyson’s screen. “Holy shit.”
Logan rushed to stand behind the couch. His eyes—and other things—bulged at the sight of long legs and pink lips. “Whoa! Is that allowed?”
Soren shoved Logan’s head out of the way and moved closer to get a better look at Greyson’s screen. “How’d you find that?”
“It’s called a search engine.”
More moans filled the room, now accompanied by staccato masculine grunts. Greyson lowered the volume as they all stared in awe at the beautiful woman getting railed on the screen.
Nothing could have prepared Logan for what the male actor did to the female actress next. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
Greyson laughed. “She seems to be begging for it.”
Logan’s jaw unhinged. “But... what’s he doing?”
“What do you think he’s doing?”
As the youngest, Logan knew less than his brothers but still more than most boys his age. He wasn’t disgusted by what they were watching. He just didn’t expect it to look so... aggressive. His stomach tightened, and his cheeks heated when the man on the screen pulled the woman’s hair.
Was this what moms and dads did?
What if their mom was watching them now—watching them watch what they were watching? “Turn it off.”
“No.”
“Grey, I’m gonna tell.”
“No, you’re not.”
“If you don’t want to watch, go do something else.” Soren edged closer to the screen.
Grey shoved him. “Back up.”
Soren hardly moved, his jaw unhinging at the sexual display on the screen. “Look how her tits bounce!”
“You guys are gross,” Logan’s interest gave way to shame. He was curious, but guilt kept his eyes partially averted. “That chick’s older than my teacher.”
“Your teachers aren’t this hot.”
“Or this naked.”
“You’re going to get a virus on your computer.”
“No, I won’t.”
Logan rolled his eyes and went back to configuring the settings on his own laptop, ensuring all the firewalls were in place since his brother was corrupting their network.
“Logan, you’re missing it. Her friend just showed up.” Soren teased. “Is it just me, or does she look a little like Tammy Reynolds?”
“Yeah, maybe if Tammy had boobs.”
“She’s got boobs.”
“Hardly.”
“You know who’s got big ones? Jenna Blackwell. She was flat as a board last spring. Then she came back in the fall with cannons the size of grapefruits.”
“She’s probably stuffing.”
“No way. At the last pep rally, she was bouncing around like crazy. Tissue doesn’t do that.”
“I’m more of a leg man.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re not a man. You’re seventeen.”
The moans and grunts coming from Greyson’s laptop grew ridiculously dramatic. Real people didn’t actually make those sounds during sex, did they?
Greyson hit a few keys and shut his laptop.
“Hey, I was watching that!” Soren snapped.
“Drool on your own screen. I need a shower.”
Soren snickered and reopened his own laptop. “I will.” He typed something in on the search bar. “Hey, you know who has nice legs?”
Greyson paused at the door. “Who?”
“Alison Jenkins.”
“Her sister’s annoying.” Now that the moans had stopped, Logan could rejoin the conversation.
“What the fuck’s her sister got to do with anything?”
Logan shrugged. “She’s in my grade.”
Greyson tilted his head. “Alison doesn’t do anything for me. Now, Ashley Stables, on the other hand—“
Soren groaned. “That hair.”
“I know.”
“How do girls do all those waves and clips? She sits in front of me in Chemistry, and I can smell it. She must use strawberry shampoo. It gives me an instant hard-on.”
“You should ask her out.”
“Nah. She’s still with Jace.”
“I thought they broke up.”
“Even I know Jace and Ashley break up every week—and I don’t even go to the high school.” Logan considered all the girls they knew. “If you ask me, Wren’s the prettiest girl in Hideaway.”
The room fell silent, and his brothers fixed him with cold stares. “We don’t go there,” Greyson warned, blue eyes stern.
“Why not? Wren’s just like any other girl in town, only cooler.”
“Because she’s not like other girls. She’s like a sister to us.” Tension coiled in Greyson’s shoulders as he slid his laptop into its sleeve case.
“But she’s not our sister. There’s no real blood between us.”
Soren lifted a dark brow. “He’s got a point.”
“No, he doesn’t. Now, drop it.”
“She’s not the same Wren we used to chase barefoot at the docks. Have you seen her lately?”
“Yes, dumbass. At the funeral.”
“Oh. Right.” Soren glanced away in shame but quickly recovered. “That black dress looked hot—ouch!”
Greyson scowled, his hand still in a fist. “What did I say? We don’t look at Wren that way.”
“Dick.” Soren rubbed his sore arm. “Who made you her keeper?”
“She’s got enough on her plate right now. The last thing she needs is you sniffing around like some junkyard dog.”
Soren’s stare hardened. “Did you ever consider that Wren and I might have something special that you don’t understand?”
“No, because you don’t.”
“You don’t know that. She’s closer to my grade than yours. I know her better.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Oh, please. You barely said two words to her at the funeral.”
“So? Maybe there was nothing worth saying. She barely spoke to anyone.”
“That’s not true,” Logan corrected. “I talked to her.”
Logan had been hiding in the sitting room when Wren found him. He’d been crying and embarrassed. It was a well-known saying that Hawthorne men don’t cry, but he couldn’t seem to stop his tears that day.
When she found him, she took his hand and talked about how they used to catch frogs by the creek when they were young. It was so random, but somehow, it was precisely what he needed in that moment to distract himself from the pain. Wren always had a gift for putting others at ease.
“What did she say?”
Logan’s mouth opened, his words catching in his throat. Something inside of him warned not to share that private moment. “None of your business.”
“Tell me.”
Soren frowned at Greyson. “Since when are you so protective of Wren Wilde?”
“Since her mom died. Don’t you get it? Mom would have wanted us to look out for her, not ogle her. Without Haven around, she’s got no one to protect her.”
“Uh, she still has her dad, dumbass.”
Greyson rolled his eyes. “Bodhi Wilde’s never been reliable. He disappears for days and leaves her all alone.”
Logan frowned. “Protect her from what?”
“Anything could happen in those woods.”
Soren snickered. “Is that what all those nature walks have been about? I think you have protector confused with stalker.”
Greyson’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t deny it. Had he been watching over Wren in the woods? Their house was secluded enough that no one would know.
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with the fact that Wren’s getting hot.” Soren instantly drew back at Greyson’s icy stare. “Chill, dude! My arm’s already bruising from your last punch.”
“Then watch your mouth.”
“I’m just saying, even if we agree not to look at her that way, we can’t stop everyone else from noticing her. Wren’s always been beautiful. We’re not the only ones with eyes.”
Finally feeling like he had helpful information to share, Logan sat up. “I heard Travis Whitaker plans on asking her to the Winter Formal.”
Greyson’s stare snapped to him. “Who told you that?”
“Chelsea, Travis’s little sister. She said they went for pizza last week and Travis kissed Wren.”
Soren gaped. “You’re lying.”
Greyson’s jaw locked.
“Why would I make that up?”
“Aw, man,” Soren clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Travis is such a player. He got in Becca Reese’s pants the day after he did the deed with Addison Levy.”
“He’s not touching Wren,” Greyson growled through gritted teeth.
“According to Chelsea, he already did.”
“Did you hear me?” Greyson snapped. “No one lays a hand on her. She’s going through something massive.
She’s vulnerable and not thinking clearly.
One wrong move with an asshole like Travis Whitaker could destroy her future.
It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.
Mom always said we should watch over her like a sister. ”
“Maybe she likes Travis.”
“Like I said, she’s not thinking clearly. Travis is not getting near her. And that rule goes for everyone. Anyone who thinks of laying a hand on her will have to get through us first. Understand?”
Logan frowned. “I don’t think Wren’s going to like that.”
Greyson leveled his brother with a hard stare. “Tough. It’s for her own good. From here on out, we protect her like one of our own.”
After that Christmas, any guy who got within two feet of Wren got his ass kicked. Greyson was such a force to be reckoned with that it didn’t take long for other guys to get the hint. No one touched Wren Wilde. And soon enough, no one even looked at her.