CHAPTER ELEVEN
RENA
T he house is stunning. Perched high above the city, it has breathtaking views in every direction. The Strip, Vegas Valley, and the mountains. The outside walls are all glass pocket doors that slide inside the wall, providing indoor-outdoor living. Not a bad seat in the house.
And the finishes are all top of the line. Marble and stone and wood. Every amenity imaginable. But the excitement I want to feel hovers out of reach. Like I can’t quite touch it.
We finished a late dinner, and now, I’m outside on the massive lanai—moonlit mountain view, crisp and dry air, blanket of twinkling stars, firepit, hot tub, pool. Peaceful. I’m rolling a joint with the weed and papers I stole from Jax.
Ty lowers himself into the chair beside me. “What are you doing?”
My eyes flit to his. “Getting high.”
He smirks, which seems in contrast to whatever he’s truly feeling. He’s a master of disguise more than I ever realized. “Do you always sleep till noon, take two-hour naps, ignore people, and end your day with a joint?”
I have been ignoring him, I suppose, but I don’t admit to that. “Are you always so judgmental?”
His fingers brush over mine before I flick the lighter on, causing a slight flinch in my hand. He meets my flinch with a wince.
We’re a fucking mess.
“I’m worried about you.” His words are unrefined honesty, but I can’t quite grasp those either. “We haven’t talked about what’s going on, why you ran from your brothers, what made you upset that day in the hallway. I wasn’t being judgmental. You’re obviously depressed. You were drunk the other night, and now this. It’s not what you’re doing. It’s why. Tell me the real reason you’re checked out and getting high.”
He’s so heartbreakingly beautiful here in the moonlight—all strong jaw and glistening eyes, compassionate spirit and reigning demons. I wish I had it in me to pretend. To conceal the torch I’ve been holding for him. But I’m tired of delusions. If it’s finally going to be smothered, let the ashes fucking rain.
Maybe it’s a gift to mourn both who I’m not and whose I can never be in one fell swoop.
“Because I’m good at reading people, and you’re going to shatter my heart, so I’d like to be high when you do it.” My voice is so detached. Another thing I can’t reel in.
He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, fingers kneading his forehead, a rebellious curl flopping to his temple. “That’s the last thing I want to do. I’m trying to take care of you. To keep you safe. To handle this with respect for everyone involved.”
And there it is again. The barrier of the Noire brothers. A blockade that will always be there. This trip is nothing but a prison. I’ve lost the prestige of being a Noire, but not the shackles.
“I’m tired of people handling me.” I suck in a hit, holding it in before blowing out the plume of smoke slowly. “And I’m heavy today. ”
He snags the joint, surprising me by pulling his own drag and returning it. I don’t think he smokes. This shit will mess him up.
“What can I do?” Such a genuine question from a genuine guy.
“Nothing right now. You provided the mountains, so I’m good.” I’m permitting myself forty minutes to wallow before I act. That’s a game Jax and I play—minutes to mope. Otherwise, we get stuck. Although, admittedly, I often mollify our moping with something reckless when the timer buzzes. So, who’s to say which is better?
Ty nods hesitantly, plainly torn about whether to touch me, sit with me, or leave me to my floundering. “Maybe we should sleep it off and see if tomorrow is better.”
I raise the joint like a salute. “Two more hits, and I’ll be out like a light. We’ll have loads of fun before we call the big bros.”
“Right.” He reaches into his pocket and sets a burner phone on the arm of my chair. “Ivy and Celeste have been anxious to hear from you. At least text them.” His pained gaze frolics all over my face, his hands sliding over his jean-clad thighs like he’s wiping sweaty palms or forcing them to stay put. “I want to do this right, Rena. And I can’t …You talked about how Axel is like a father to you and how you want to be a mom. Can you imagine one of your kids missing? Because if it was Felicity, I … I couldn’t …”
There’s not much to argue with there. He’s right. But I still can’t agree to what he wants. So, he’s made his choice.
“I understand. My intention isn’t to hurt anyone even if my actions say otherwise. I love my brothers so much. I’ve proudly filled the role of the Noire princess my entire life, but things change. And I need the space to let them even if it’s uncomfortable for others.”
The tortured quirk of his features returns. He’s conflicted. Admirable. Noble even. Just not what I need.
“Okay.” He rises, cradles my face, and plants a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Based on him granting me a day or two, I think he’s already figured out his part, but I smile anyway.
“I’m going to take the couch in your room,” he calls out as he saunters away. “I’ll feel better, having you close to ward off the nightmares.”
Or to make sure I don’t escape.
A few minutes later, I snuff out the joint and text the thread on the burner phone, hoping for some direction. Looks like Ty used his nicknames for them.
Me: Hey, girls.
Only about a minute passes before the first text pops up.
Freckles: There you are. I’ve missed you.
Lettie: Seriously. WTF? We could’ve at least made it a girls’ trip.
Me: Sorry. Miss you both too. Next time. It was too big of a risk for this top-secret mission. Your guys would never have let you off their radar.
Freckles: We could have lost ’em. Wouldn’t have been the first time.
That makes me laugh. I may not be privy to all the clandestine details of whatever the hell went down with Ivy and the guys a year and a half ago, but I have no doubt she gave them a run for it.
Lettie: If I even type that, mine will be on me. The golden god always knows.
Yeah. That makes sense. Liam is my spirit animal.
Freckles: Epic move with the delivery truck, btw.
Me: Thanks. I can scheme with the best of them.
Freckles: Noted. So, tell us what’s happening. You’re not alone.
Me: Depends on what you mean by not alone.
Freckles: He’s being distant?
Me: He’s been perfect. And sweet. Dreamy. Just not mine.
Freckles: That’s where you’re wrong. He’s been waiting for you since I met him.
My heart thumps with hope. If he’s confessed to Ivy that he wants me, admitted it, then it’s possible this isn’t over. Our journey might not be as arduous as I thought.
Me: Did he say that?
Freckles: With his eyes.
Lettie: Truth.
Utter deflation. I don’t want a silent yearning. I want an unforgiving cyclone that sweeps me up with a stormy passion and refuses to let me go. Not one who has to muster the strength to be near me.
Me: Well, that’s not enough.
Lettie: He came all the way to get you in the middle of the night.
Me: And yet he’s still worlds away.
Freckles: Maybe so, but he searched tirelessly for you and chased you. Sometimes, the truth is in the pursuit.
Freckles: He might be reluctant to cross a line. That’s who he is. But when you summoned him, he dropped everything.
Lettie: Go with it. That’s a checkmate strategy right there. Both of us had instances where our guys had to work for it. Make yours do the same.
And just like that, my forty minutes of wallowing are up, and a newfound purpose courses through my veins. Ty’s nightmares are the least of his worries.
Me: Thanks, girls. What do I have to lose?