Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
brOOKS
I was surprised when Thorn asked to meet up at my place, though him showing with a bag of completely unnecessary cat toys wasn’t exactly shocking.
He’s been claimed.
Violet will be old enough to be adopted in the next week.
The only question is if Thorn will get over himself enough to bring the kitten home with him.
I nod toward the security guard on duty, unlock the door, and push inside.
There’s a crash and I rush forward, but even before I’m recognizing it’s just a minor mishap in the kitchen, River and Briar’s voices reach me.
And I’m eavesdropping—we’re eavesdropping.
But I can’t make myself stop.
Neither, it appears, can Thorn.
He tenses, face going stonier than I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t interrupt, though.
And neither do I.
Not when Briar’s voice breaks, nor when River shares something I never knew, not even as they both bond over the fucked-up-ness that’s shadowed their lives.
It’s only as they stand that I realize we should have stepped out.
Or at least have made it so they didn’t realize we were blatantly listening in.
Too late, though.
“Um, hey,” Briar says, her cheeks pink as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I open my mouth—
“Meow!”
Violet to the rescue.
She sprints across the room, bypassing me completely, and—
“Ow, shit. Fuck. Ow!” The bag hits the hardwood and then Thorn is peeling the kitten from his thigh. But he does it gently, almost as gently as he cuddles her close and settles her on his shoulder. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters to the cat.
“Meow.”
Briar giggles and I turn, see that even though her cheeks are still pink, her eyes a little damp (and River’s are the same), she’s smiling.
So is River.
Something unknots in my chest.
I thought I had to be perfect, thought if I just did things exactly the way he preferred then he’d keep his fists to himself…
Keep his fists to himself.
Christ.
I was going to find this ex of hers and make his life miserable.
My gaze drifts to Thorn and I see that same resolve in his expression.
Good.
Double the misery for that asshole.
“You know what?” River says, not looking at me—or Thorn.
“Let’s leave the bread for tomorrow. I think I have some scalloped potatoes in the freezer that will go perfectly with the chicken.
” She turns and starts bustling around the kitchen, pots and pans clanging, the fridge and freezer opening and closing.
Thorn shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe I should—”
“Meow. Meow. Meow!”
I grin. “I think someone wants a little time with you.”
“But—”
“Meow!”
I pat him on the shoulder, pick up the bag of toys and bring it to the couch. Then I cross over to Briar. “You okay?”
A nod.
But her face tells me she’s not okay. Not yet. Though…maybe she’s getting there.
The past is still heavy. What I did still hangs between us, for all that she says she understands. The threat continues to loom.
And…well, I haven’t been giving her space.
Or maybe I have—in my own way.
Going into the office when I don’t need to so she has time to settle and a safe place to stay and River and Chrissy, Marie and Rory dropping by on the regular.
And kittens.
Though, I can’t reasonably take credit for that part.
Still, I haven’t tried to sweet-talk my way into her—my—bed.
No intense kisses or stroking her gorgeous, naked skin.
Just spending time together and with good people and carrying her into the bedroom every night after she falls asleep on my shoulder, dying a little inside when I tuck her beneath the covers and have to say goodnight.
And sleep down the hall.
Alone.
So maybe there’s been some space.
Space to find herself again. To understand she’s safe. To decide if she’ll be able to trust me.
Because Pascal was right about one thing—she needs time to heal.
Even if it kills me.
“I’m good,” she murmurs.
I touch her cheek. “Yeah?”
Her mouth hitches up. “If not good then I’m at least getting there.” She shifts closer as Thorn cradles the kitten, walks into the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he watches River throw dinner together. “You?”
“Good. Though, I’m going to miss little Violet.”
She sighs. “I know. It’s not like taking care of them was planned, but it’s been a nice distraction from everything else going on.”
The chaos of a half-dozen kittens is certainly that.
“I’m sure Chrissy didn’t create this setup”—I wave a hand at the plethora of cat paraphernalia—“without the intention of foisting more kittens on us.”
Briar’s mouth quirks, but she doesn’t argue the us.
Which has me wanting to fist pump like an idiot.
“I think the kittens are just the gateway drug,” she says. “If Rory has her way, we’ll be watching dogs next.”
We’ll.
My heart leaps in my chest even though I keep it cool on the outside by just shrugging. “I’d be down with a dog or two.”
“In your apartment?” She swivels, as though assessing the space. “It’s plenty big, I guess, and the patio could work with one of those fake grass potty things. Taking them down in the elevator for walks and stuff would be annoying, though.”
“We could wait until we’re back at our house.”
She stills, her eyes coming to mine. “Our house?”
I nod. “Living here means the commute is easy, so I usually stay a couple days a week. But when we’re not trying to keep you out of the crosshairs of a criminal organization, I spend most of my time on the estate.
” Something obvious occurs to me. “Are you uncomfortable being there, considering all that happened between us?”
It would be understandable.
Before everything went wrong, we were building a life in that house, and even if it’s the property I inherited from my family, there’s no reason we couldn’t have a fresh start somewhere new, somewhere without baggage or history.
“No,” she says after a moment. “I…” A breath. “I really like your house—”
“Our house.”
She starts to shake her head.
“I haven’t changed a thing, baby.”
“What?”
“You made it into a home. I hadn’t had that…”
“Since your mom died.”
I nod.
She moves closer, wraps me in her arms.
Hugging me. Touching me.
Not the other way around.
Something unlocks in my chest as she smooths her hands up and down my back. “It’s been a long time,” I say on a shrug. “And I barely remember her anyway.”
“Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
Especially when my dad was determined to erase her…and erase any part of her softness that remained in my life.
Boarding school was almost a relief.
Hell, it was probably the only reason I didn’t end up sucked into the shit he was involved in.
I want to stay like this forever, holding Briar as she holds me right back, but I’m distinctly aware of River’s harried voice, the slams and bangs from the kitchen.
The soft “Meows” from below.
Pulling back, I bend and snag Tulip and Buttercup, cuddling them close. They nuzzle at my face and Tulip wraps her little paws around me in her version of a kitty hug.
I don’t think Thorn is the only one who’s been claimed.
But I don’t mind in the least.
“Should we rescue Thorn from River?” Briar stage whispers as she steals Buttercup from me. “Or is it the other way around?”
I look up, realize what I missed before—namely the look on Thorn’s face.
Hmm.
“I’m not sure.”
She giggles and we both start walking.
“Brooks?” she says.
“Yeah, baby?”
“We do have to change one thing before we go back to our house.”
Our house.
The words nearly send me to my knees with relief, but I manage to ask in a semi-reasonable tone, “What’s that?”
Her eyes come to mine and the sparkle of humor in them has my heart rolling over in my chest.
Because it’s a glimpse of the Briar of old.
“The sensor on that window in your office.”