31. Brick
31
brICK
The drive home is silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Chase’s words echo in my mind like a persistent melody I can’t shake. Sharing . A concept that goes against everything I’ve believed in, everything I’ve built my life around. The Kane brothers share many things—business, responsibilities, burdens—but never women. Never something this intimate.
Yet as I glance at my brothers—Ryder’s stoic profile illuminated by dashboard lights, Maddox brooding in the rearview mirror—I can’t deny the truth Chase forced us to confront. We all want her. In different ways, perhaps, but with equal intensity.
Our house appears through the trees, modern lines softened by the moonlight. Home. A sanctuary we’ve created away from the noise and demands of the world. The place we retreated to when we came back from the darkness Cerberus planted in our souls.
“We need rules,” I say as I kill the engine. “If we’re really considering this.”
Ryder nods, his expression unreadable. “Boundaries.”
“Communication,” Maddox adds, surprising me with his seriousness. “No more secrets.”
The front door clicks shut behind us, the house welcoming us with familiar silence. We move through our nightly routines—boots by the door, keys in the bowl, weapons secured. But there’s a new tension humming beneath the surface, an awareness that tomorrow everything might change.
I head for the shower, needing to wash away the day’s grime and clear my head. The hot water pounds against my shoulders, loosening muscles tight with stress and indecision. Steam fills the bathroom, fogging the mirror and blurring the edges of reality.
Chase made it sound simple. Find out what she wants. Be honest about what we want. Choose it every day. But nothing involving Rowan Callahan has been simple, from the moment she crashed into our bikes.
I towel off and pull on a pair of loose pajama pants, leaving my chest bare in the warmth of the house. Sleep beckons, but my mind refuses to quiet. I pace the length of my bedroom, bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.
The sound of an approaching vehicle cuts through my thoughts. At this hour, unexpected visitors rarely bring good news. I’m at my window in seconds, spotting headlights winding up our private drive.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand—the security system alert. I check the camera feed, and my pulse quickens. Rowan’s bike, with her hunched over the handlebars like she’s running from something.
“Guys,” I call out, grabbing my gun from the bedside drawer out of habit. “We’ve got company.”
Ryder and Maddox appear in my doorway, both shirtless and alert despite the late hour. I show them my phone screen.
“Rowan?” Maddox frowns. “At this hour?”
Ryder’s expression darkens. “Something’s wrong.”
We move as one to the front door. I reach it first, pulling it open just as she raises her hand to knock. The sight of her freezes me in place.
Rowan stands on our porch, a duffel bag clutched in her white-knuckled grip. Her face is pale, eyes wide with panic. She isn’t wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her hair is damp, like she showered and left without drying it.
“I—” she starts, then falters as she takes in the three of us, shirtless and sleep-rumpled despite our alert postures. Something flickers across her face—fear giving way to something more complex, more heated. The way she looks at us makes my blood burn despite the seriousness of the moment.
“What happened?” I ask, stepping back to let her in.
She enters cautiously, her gaze darting around the entryway. “I need a place to stay tonight. Maybe…maybe longer.”
“Why?” Ryder’s voice is soft but insistent.
Rowan sets her bag down, her shoulders drooping slightly. “My past is catching up with me. I can’t—I don’t feel safe at my apartment anymore.”
“Who’s after you?” I demand, closing and locking the door.
“I’ll explain everything when I’m ready,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. “I promise. But right now, I just need somewhere safe to stay. I can’t be alone in that apartment. Not tonight, not anytime soon. I don’t feel protected there.”
Maddox and Ryder exchange a look I can’t quite interpret. We all hear what she isn’t saying—there’s real danger, something specific that triggered this midnight flight.
“You can stay as long as you need,” I tell her. “We have plenty of room.”
Relief floods her face, her body sagging slightly. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You did the right thing,” Maddox says. You’re safe here.”
“Guest room’s this way,” I tell her, guiding her down the east corridor.
The room is simple but comfortable—queen bed with soft linens, attached bathroom, large windows overlooking the forest. It’s the room farthest from our bedrooms, which suddenly seems like both a blessing and a curse.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, stepping back into the hallway. “The bathroom should have everything you need. If not?—”
“I’ll be fine,” she interrupts, offering a weak smile. “Thank you. All of you.”
I nod, giving her the space she clearly needs. “We’ll talk in the morning. Get some rest.”
Back in the kitchen, my brothers wait, tension visible in the set of their shoulders. “She’s running from something,” Maddox says the moment I join them. “Or someone.”
“That much is obvious,” I agree, keeping my voice low. “Question is, who? And how much danger is she really in?”
“Enough to send her here in the middle of the night,” Ryder observes.
We’ve all noticed her hyperawareness, the subtle combat skills that ordinary bakers don’t possess. Now she’s at our door, frightened and seeking protection. The pieces are adding up to a picture I’m not sure I want to see clearly.
“We’ll get the full story when she’s ready,” I decide. “For now, she stays here where we can keep her safe.”
My brothers nod in agreement, but there’s something else swirling beneath the surface—the undeniable pull we all feel toward her, intensified by her presence under our roof.
“Get some sleep,” I tell them. “We’ll figure this out in the morning.”
Two hours later, I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Knowing Rowan is just down the hall, in our house, in our space—it makes my skin prickle with awareness. I’ve tried to focus on the danger she might be in, on our responsibility to protect her, but my mind keeps circling back to more primal thoughts.
I give up on sleep, sliding out of bed to get some water. The house is silent as I pad down the hallway, but a soft sound catches my attention—coming from behind the guest room door.
She’s still awake.
I move closer, my curiosity overriding my better judgment. The sound becomes clearer—a soft, rhythmic gasping that makes my blood heat instantly. Then I hear it—my name, breathed out on a sigh, followed by a low moan.
I freeze, my hand halfway to the doorknob. Before I can process what I’m hearing, I notice I’m not alone in the hallway. Ryder stands a few feet away, his eyes fixed on the same door, tension visible in every line of his body. Neither of us speaks, acknowledging with silent glances what we’re both hearing.
Movement to my left reveals Maddox approaching from his wing, his expression a mirror of what I’m feeling.
Another moan filters through the door, this time Maddox’s name falling from her lips.
I’m about to knock when Maddox catches my arm, shaking his head. “CCTV,” he mouths, gesturing toward the security room.
I know I should say no. Should send them both back to bed, and remind them of boundaries and respect. But again, curiosity overrides my better judgment.