Chapter 13 #2
He could easily explain that Wren took her clothes off that morning, that she basically threw herself at him and said things that still had him reeling. But Soren was his brother, and as much as he needed him to admit defeat, he didn’t need to totally destroy him in the process.
Trying to make him see reason, Greyson calmly said, “You don’t love her, Soren. Not like that.”
“And you do?”
The unspoken truth rested silently between them. If he couldn’t say it, did he even deserve her?
Soren scoffed. “I can love her better than you, Greyson. For fuck sake, at least I can say it out loud.”
He suddenly couldn’t breathe. “I need coffee.”
Soren followed him into the kitchen at a distance. Tall, midnight blue cabinets and state-of-the-art appliances filled the space like a magazine spread. He scowled at the fancy machine on the counter. “What the fuck is this?”
“Move. You’ll end up breaking it.”
Greyson stepped back as Soren turned dials and twisted valves. “She get back to you yet?”
“No.”
“Could you find a more complicated coffee machine?”
“I have sophisticated taste. Once you get to this level, there’s no going back.”
Greyson rolled his eyes, exasperation bleeding through his impatience. No matter how similar their upbringing, the three of them were miles apart in differences.
As he watched his brother make a single cup of coffee with the meticulousness of a brain surgeon, he wondered if Soren’s attention to detail and over-preparedness might ground Wren.
Maybe she needed someone to contrast her free spirit, someone to remind her there was more to life than frolicking in the woods or fermenting kombucha in mason jars. What if she needed someone more like Soren?
Unease crawled through him like spiders under his flesh, making his skin feel a size too small. Why was she taking so long to respond?
He flexed his hands to release some of the nervous energy tingling up his arm. She had to have seen Soren’s text by now. Maybe he should try texting her. What if something went wrong and she changed her mind?
“What did you say in your text?”
“None of your business.”
Greyson pulled out his phone, the device warm in his palm.
“Now, you’re texting her?”
“It’s weird she’s not answering.”
“She’s probably in the shower or something. Don’t text her.”
Did Soren fear she’d answer Greyson first?
The coffee machine steamed and whistled like a countertop locomotive, filling the kitchen with rich, dark aromas that made his mouth water. He handed a fancy cup to Greyson. “Drink your coffee and chill the fuck out.”
He had to admit, it was better than the bitter swill they served at the hardware shop in town. “Wow.”
“Yup. Welcome to the bougie side.”
Yeah right. Greyson could never be as high maintenance as Soren, but goddamn. “Why is it so good?”
“It’s a more nuanced coffee. The brewing process is cleaner with a crisper extraction.”
Greyson laughed, the sound rough but genuine. “Could you be anymore pretentious?”
“I could try.” Soren sipped from his mug and sighed like a man tasting heaven. “Nothing like that brown piss you drink.”
He was finished with the small talk and his dainty coffee. Setting the glass mug in the sink with a sharp clink, he leveled with his brother. “Look, she’s gonna get back to you eventually. And you know how this is going to play out. Can we cut the crap?”
“We don’t know anything. You’re not the expert you think you are on Wren anymore.”
Maybe he was right, but Greyson didn’t want this to go any further than it had to. Every cell in his body rebelled against the thought that Soren or anyone else might touch what he now considered his.
“This is different, Soren. I’m not backing down.”
“Yeah, well, until I hear otherwise from Wren, neither am I.”
“You’ll lose.”
His younger brother laughed. “It would be so easy if you could convince me of that, Grey. But you and I both know I have a chance here. That’s why you’re panicking.”
His hands balled into fists. “You don’t have a chance. I’m trying to save you from—”
“I don’t need a fucking savior.” His scowl darkened. “What’s the endgame for you, Grey? Are you really prepared to love her? Because I actually could. I’m willing to. With everything I’ve got.”
“She’s not a means to an end.”
“Of course she’s not. But with everything going on with Dad and the will, I’d be doing all of us a favor. There’s no burden in winning a girl like Wren. She’s the cherry on top.”
His knuckles popped like gunshots. She was his fucking cherry. “She’s not your prize.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She’ll always be a prize. We were all fools to wait this long. I’m not waiting anymore.”
His jaw locked tight, tension coiling around his neck like a vise. The air in his lungs turned heavy and thick, as his mind flashed with vivid images of their future—not his and Wren’s, but Soren’s and Wren’s—and damn it, it made sense in a way that made him sick.
“I’m calling her.” Greyson pulled out his phone, his patience finally snapping.
Soren scoffed and paced away from the counter. “Unbelievable. You just can’t leave it to chance.”
“Fuck chance.” He hit send with more force than necessary.
“This is Wren. I’m unavailable. Leave a message.”
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He checked the time with growing dread. She wasn’t in her yoga class. There was no reason for her to be unavailable, no excuse that would satisfy the growing panic in his chest.
Soren chuckled, the sound cold and knowing. “Looks like you’re getting the brush-off too.”
What was she doing? They had an understanding.
“Looks like you’ve got nothing, big brother.”
Greyson’s shoulders stiffened, then he pocketed his phone with deliberate calm. Time to come clean. “I was with her an hour ago, Soren.”
They locked eyes, the air crackling between them. “You lie.”
He shook his head. “Kissing her. Touching her. Do you want me to go on?”
“Manipulating her.” Soren glared at him through dark, narrow eyes that burned with betrayal.
“More like fighting her off and trying to do the right thing.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“Am I?” Distrust flowed in the chasm between them like poison. They’d always been loyal—brothers for life—but things started to feel less stable, the foundation cracking beneath their feet. “It’s a courtesy—me warning you to stay away from her. Next time I won’t be so calm.”
Soren crossed his arms over his chest, his stance defiant. “Any man who tries to control a woman’s friends has no real control over anything.”
“I never told her you two couldn’t be friends. But I’m telling you, if you kiss her again, I’ll break your face.”
He laughed without humor. “And what about afterwards?”
Grey frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, after it gets too real for you, Grey. Dad’s dying. I know how you get. You take off whenever things get too intense. How will that translate to a life with her? You gonna run every time things get real? Marriage? Babies? Things can get pretty heavy when you’re talking about the forever.”
His chest tightened like a vise, each breath becoming harder to draw.
“That’s you, Greyson. That’s what you’ve been protecting her from your entire life. She needs more than you’re willing to offer. You know it. I know it. And Wren fucking knows it. All you’re doing is leading her down a path that will eventually end with her tears.”
He took a step forward, then stilled, his hands fisted at his sides and ready to swing, violence humming through his veins.
Soren glanced at his clenched fingers and scoffed, unafraid. “You can’t hit me, because you know I’m right.”
He could have laid him out with one swing, could have felt the satisfying crack of bone against bone. He should have. But Rat was in his pocket, and Wren would hear about it, would be disappointed in him again, and that would cut deeper than any blade. How many times had he already made her cry?
Soren’s words echoed in his skull like a gong. “I should kick your ass for saying that.”
“Some things are worth getting your ass kicked for. It needed to be said.”
He couldn’t listen to anymore, couldn’t bear the images Soren’s words painted. He also couldn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep. “I gotta go.”
“That’s it. Run away like you always do when things get too real,” Soren called after him, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.
The ringing in his ears turned deafening. By the time he reached his truck, hands shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, the engine roaring to life, he could hardly breathe. Did he make a mistake? He couldn’t get the image of her crying out of his head.
What if Soren was right and he was the wrong guy for Wren?