1. Chapter One
Chapter One
Reaper
The sting of Max’s glove catches me across the ribs, snapping me out of my rhythm.
“Son of a—” I grunt, twisting out of reach and firing back a shot that thuds against his shoulder.
Elias laughs from his perch on the bench just outside the ring, legs kicked out like he’s got popcorn in his lap. “I heard the hammock creak like a dying moose,” he says, grinning. “Tell me again how you got in it without flipping Wrenley onto the grass?”
“Tell me how you’re still breathing,” I shoot back, ducking another jab from Max. “I’m pretty sure I saw you fall off a curb last week.”
Elias holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, a six-seven tank of a man doesn’t belong in a hammock. It was like watching someone try and fold a fitted sheet correctly by themselves.”
Max chuckles as he resets his stance. “I saw it too,” he adds, and swings.
I grunt as I block the punch, stepping closer. “Goddamn spectators.”
Max doesn’t let up, throwing another hit that grazes off my bicep. “I need to talk to you about something important,” he says. “We’re sparring while we talk because, well, we both might need to punch each other by the end of it.”
I frown circling him, sweat starting to bead on my neck. “That bad?”
Elias’ voice cuts in. “Serious talk? Cool. I’m on standby in case you two dumbasses start throwing furniture.”
I give him a death stare and dodge a right hook.
“Alright,” I say, tightening my gloves. “Talk.”
Max doesn’t waste a second. “You’re in love with Wrenley.”
Even though his actual hit misses, the words land like a gut punch. I nearly stumble. My brain short circuits for a second, long enough for him to catch me with a jab to the ribs.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl, throwing a punch harder than I mean to. He blocks it, but his arms jolt from the force.
Max doesn’t even blink. “Don’t act dumb. I’ve seen it.”
“Seen what, exactly?” I ask, voice sharp. I dodge low and pop back up with an uppercut that nearly lands.
“The way you look at her. The way you move when she’s in the room. The fact that you let her boss you around and never flinch. And don’t think I missed that moment under the oak tree today.”
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” I say, chest heaving.
Max steps forward again. “I knew it the first time I saw you watching her hold a gun, when she had Riot in her sights like she was born with it in her hand. And it was solidified when you told me I was a dumbass not to marry her—and if I didn’t, you would.”
Fuck.
I remember that. It was months ago. She’d just torn through a room full of threats like a fucking storm.
I told him in a haze of adrenaline and awe that she was the kind of woman you don’t let go.
That if he didn’t figure it out, I would.
And I meant it. Now, breathing hard and practically vibrating from the hits and the heat of it all, I have no smart comeback.
He nods. “You’d die for her. Hell, you probably already have a few times and didn’t mention it.”
I stay silent, hands slack at my sides.
Max smiles. “So, are you ready to stop pretending you don’t love her?”
My voice is hoarse when I finally answer. “She deserves the whole damn world, Max.”
“Then help me give it to her.”
I blink at him. “You’re serious?”
Max steps in close, quiet now. “I want this for her. For you. For us.”
I call the match, stripping my gloves off and tossing them beside the ring. Max watches me, quiet now. Calm. Like he just told me, the sky was blue, and not that he’s perfectly okay with me being in love with his wife.
“She’s your wife, Max,” I mutter, scrubbing sweat off my face with a towel. “How the hell are you okay with that?”
He shrugs like it’s the easiest truth in the world. “I have to be, because she loves you too. I know she does, and it’s time to tell her.”
I stare at him like he’s lost it, chest still rising and falling with adrenaline. “How the fuck do I tell someone something like this?”
Elias swings his feet down from the bench and stands, clapping me on the shoulder. “With your mouth, dumbass. Rip the damn Band-Aid off.”
Max smirks. “You'd better move fast. She and Margot have margarita plans tonight, and you’ll want her sober for this.”
That gets a muttered curse from me as I drop the towel and head out of the gym. “This is going to be a goddamn disaster.”
I find them in the kitchen, music blasting through the Bluetooth speaker, Myles Smith, “Stargazing”, and the two of them are dancing around like they haven’t a single care in the world.
Wrenley’s hip sway, her oversized t-shirt hanging off one shoulder, a bottle of tequila in one hand.
She spots me in the doorway and grins, grabbing my hand and pulling me into their little chaos without a second thought.
Her skin is warm. Her laugh lights something inside me.
“I don’t dance,” I grumble.
“You have to,” Margot squeals, already sloshing a little margarita into a glass. “House rule of the kitchen!”
I let out a long-suffering groan, half-shrugging my shoulders in some god-awful attempt at rhythm. Then Wrenley laughs, and it’s all worth it. I make myself do the hardest thing, I reach over and turn the music down.
Margot gives me a look, but I meet her with a soft one of my own. “Can I steal her for a minute?”
She squints at us, then winks. “Fine, but I’m not waiting to start drinking. Garden in ten, babe.”
Wrenley watches her go before looking at me, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I think so. Just… listen, okay? This is going to sound crazy, but I need to tell you something.”
She tilts her head, eyes full of curiosity.
I take a deep breath and tell her the truth. “I’m in love with you, Wrenley.”
She blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” I say, the words tumbling out like a confession I’ve held too long. “And today, Max finally called me out. Said he’s known.”
Her lips part as she gasps. “Max?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “He said he’s seen it. Felt it. And if I don’t say it, we’ll all just keep dancing around like idiots.”
I step back, giving her space she didn’t ask for. Bracing for the sky to fall or for her to tell me I’m out of my mind. “I don’t expect anything, Wrenley. I just needed you to know. Take some time. Think about it.”
I turn before I can see the look on her face, before I can register if it’s confusion, or disgust, or maybe even hope.
I climb the stairs two at a time, heading for the shower and praying she doesn’t shut down.
Praying she doesn’t ask me to leave. But if I’m going to lose everything, at least I said it.