The Trap
Brody
Five Years Ago
Fuck, I’d forgotten how beautiful she was.
When Maggie Brynn walked into the bar that night, I felt the air sucked out of me as if someone had taken a vacuum to my lungs.
As if I had summoned her from my sick, depraved fantasies, Maggie Brynn walked into the bar that night looking like every man’s wet dream.
Now, I understood why the fangirls were always gushing about Liam’s eyes. I had just needed a different easel to see them clearly.
His sister served as the perfect example.
God, she was perfect. Long, midnight-dark hair framing a face that made every expression look like a dare.
I wanted to blind every man in the bar to make sure no one else could look at her but me.
I hadn’t spoken more than two sentences to her, but I felt the possessiveness growing in my chest in ways I’d never felt before.
But she didn’t even notice the way they all watched her. Or maybe she didn’t care.
Hell, it worked for me.
I didn’t know what the hell was happening to me, because despite only being two beers deep, I felt drunk and high and on cloud fucking nine as I soaked in the mere presence of her in the bar that night. It was a giddiness usually reserved for a monumental game win.
After a half hour, I stopped caring that every guy in the bar was watching her hungrily, because it wasn’t them she was spending her time with.
It was me. At least for tonight, I was the one making her laugh. A bubbly, infectious sound that trickled out of her, making me act like a fool over and over, if only so I could keep hearing it. Because out of all the men in Boston, I was the one responsible for that smile on her face.
And if I had it my way, I was going to make damned sure I’d always be the one filling that role.
One conversation with Maggie Brynn and I was a goner. And a part of me knew, even then, that something had clicked into place irrevocably.