Chapter 35
Reece
“I’ll grab some wood,” I mutter to no one in particular, the dying fireplace providing the perfect excuse for a moment alone.
I slip on my boots, slide open the glass door Rocco used earlier, and close it behind me.
The frigid air slaps me in the face, jolting my senses awake.
I step off the porch. It’s peaceful out here, a stark contrast to the city’s constant assault.
The air smells cleaner too—crisp pine and sap, with a hint of woodsmoke.
Snow drifts down in lazy spirals, dusting my cheeks and lashes. I lift my face to the moonlit sky and draw in a long, icy inhale. The cold sears my lungs, a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind. I exhale slowly, my breath fogging the air, the tightness in my chest easing.
The woodpile sits under a small overhang at the edge of the forest. I trudge toward it, the crunch of snow beneath my boots oddly satisfying.
The mundane task of gathering firewood is meditative, even though I know it’ll wreck my shoulder.
I need space—something to do with my hands, a chance to breathe without the weight of Alexei’s penetrating gaze.
What’s with that guy? I thought Rocco was the boss. If he is, Alexei must be his underboss—ordering the twins to work the clubs and casually throwing out the idea of offing Daniel. I overheard Des ask about his brother, so there are more of them, more Rossi men who look eerily similar to Ethan.
Halfway through loading my arms with split wood, I hear footsteps behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Jax. He’s been up my ass all day, and I recognize his lazy gait, the distinctive drag of his unlaced boots.
He reaches past me, his breath fogging in the air, and grabs a log from the top of the stack. “You good?”
I collect a few more pieces. “I’m good.”
“The divorce is handled, right? Everything with Harper and Bennett is under control.”
“We’ll see.” I shift the pile in my arms and head for the house.
He scoops up a couple more logs and joins me. “You always say that. What are we waiting to see? You’re being grumpy again. What are you missing, Viking? The whole God-given, until-death-do-us-part marriage thing?”
His voice carries a sharp edge, cutting through my sullen mood.
“No. That definitely raised a red flag—holy hell.” Watching a room full of possessive men bristle at the archaic shit I grew up with was weirdly gratifying. It drove home just how insane it all is—how insane my thoughts might still be. “It’s crazy, right?”
Jax stops at the porch and fixes his gaze on me.
“You think? Fuck yeah, it’s crazy. It sounds like you were in a cult.
That explains why your mother is brainwashed—sorry.
” He climbs the steps and tosses down his armload, the logs landing with hollow thuds against the wooden planks. “Is your other sister safe?”
The comment about my mother doesn’t hit me the way I know it should. I should be concerned, but I’m not. All I feel is resentment. I have a greater attachment to my sisters and have for as long as I can remember.
I throw down my pile and turn back, not ready to go in yet. “Sadie? Yeah. Cal is a good man.”
“Do you believe all that shit? That we’re going to Hell? That our relationship is a sin—Ethan and me, the four of us?”
“No.” I glance at him, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “It’s more of an uncomfortable feeling I can’t always shake. Like your anger or rage, it’s ingrained, even though I don’t want it there. But I don’t believe it.”
He peers up at the stars. “If we’re a sin, I don’t want to be a saint. And if sinners go to Hell, that’s where I deserve to be. We’re worth every sin. I wouldn’t give us up, not if I were in the pits of burning Hell, my skin melting off my bones.”
“You’re so dramatic, Jesus.” I can’t help but chuckle. “But I hear you.”
When the four of us are together, nothing exists except the connection, the pleasure. I’m not weighed down by guilt or shame. Aurora consumes me. Maybe that’s why I need it—need her—so badly. To quiet my mind.
He sidesteps a fallen branch on our path to the woodpile. “I didn’t see you watching me, by the way. I was kidding. If you were, I was too fuck-drunk off Ethan’s dick to notice.”
Fuck-drunk is the perfect phrase for what occurs between us.
A deep laugh escapes me, and the last of my tension slips away. “Likewise—not Ethan. I was too fuck-drunk off Aurora to care what you were doing.”
We begin loading up again, and my shoulder screams in protest.
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” he asks offhandedly.
“Yup.” I stack one final piece in my arms, only able to carry a handful of split logs.
He shifts his pile and heads back toward the warm glow of the windows. “Can you believe we’re carrying firewood? I can’t.” He answers himself and continues before I can say anything. “Are you staying in New York? We have a doctor’s appointment coming up.”
“Maybe.” I follow him. A log nearly tumbles free, and I adjust my grip, my injured arm weakening. “I intend to expose my father and Daniel. They don’t deserve their achievements—but I can probably do that from here.”
He pauses at the back of the house. “If I knew someone of concern in LA, would you want to know? Would you pass it along to Bennett?”
“I’d want to know, yes. Lucas and I will investigate and go from there.”
“I was telling Grant about Robert not signing off on my trade agreement. He said Robert’s girlfriend—or wife, I’m not sure—is younger than his daughter.
It reminded me he used to hang out with Kyle, publicly, at clubs and team events.
I don’t remember seeing him at any private parties, but it’s worth looking into. ”
We reach the porch steps. My arm threatens to give out, and I rush up them. “I’ll let Lucas know, see what he can dig up.”
“Thanks.” He shivers, and the word shudders out of him.
“You need a jacket. You’re gonna be soaked. I thought you hated the snow.” I drop the wood, my upper body aching and my arms trembling, then bend to stack it.
He does the same, working faster. “I have a jacket. I’m not wearing it so Ethan will fret over me. He’ll see I’m freezing and wet, strip off my hoodie, pull me onto his lap, and cover us with a blanket.”
“Unbelievable. You’re gonna get sick.”
“You’re one to talk. You’re also in a hoodie and in pain. Don’t think Aurora won’t notice.”
We finish stacking the pile and brush ourselves off.
“Are we good?” He rubs his arms to stay warm. “You done with your bullshit?”
I nudge the door open with my boot. “I’m good—we’re good.”
He gives me a shit-eating grin. “So…what do you want to do tonight?”