Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
It becomes clear my attraction isn’t drawn in a neat, straight line. It hasn’t narrowed the way I would have expected it to as I’ve gotten to know each of the men better.
It’s unsettling, but not because it feels wrong. Fairness and honesty are on my mind as I wonder if wanting more than one connection means risking the one I’ve just begun.
I rest my hand on my stomach and take a slow breath, in and out.
Would admitting my complicated feelings be a betrayal? Or could it lead to something that might only be possible here, with these three men who share years of common experiences?
I don’t have any answers, but I don’t want to shrink myself to fit someone else’s expectations, the way I always have.
I think there’s room for me to be honest here and still be safe.
CHAPTER 23
GRIZZ
I’ve been spending a lot of time out in the workshop, especially at night. Tonight, the space heater’s humming beside me as I lean over the workbench, taking apart a carburetor that doesn’t strictly need fixing.
Sometimes I put music on, but tonight I’m listening to my thoughts, even though they’re poor company.
I tried to shut down my feelings for her. Tried to file them away under not yours and don’t be stupid, but there’s something about Kira that makes my defenses malfunction.
She talks to me like I matter. She asks my opinion and takes my advice. She doesn’t flinch at my size or my rough edges, and she seems to honestly think my jokes are funny.
Somewhere along the way, she got under my skin, but I never intended to act on it. I could live with wanting her quietly, privately, as long as it didn’t cost me my place here, among these men who are now my brothers.
But Atlas is looking at her like she’s under his skin, too.
The other night in ops, when I came in from the fence line, it was obvious something had changed. Atlas was too still at first, and then too active. Kira’s cheeks were flushed, and she had a certain kind of smile on her face that was new.
I clocked the situation and moved on, because that’s how you handle things that aren’t yours to control.
The problem is that I haven’t moved on. I’ve been noticing everything, like the way Atlas angles his body toward her, and the way Kira touches his arm when she laughs.
It irritates the hell out of me that it bothers me at all.
Atlas is my brother. Kira’s a guest under our protection. Whatever’s going on between them isn’t my concern.
Atlas deserves happiness, and Kira deserves safety with someone stable. I’m not surprised they’re attracted to each other.
But I keep circling the same conclusion: This is where the lines get drawn. It’s time to step back.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the screwdriver. I remind myself that breaking tools doesn’t solve anything.
I’m not jealous, because jealousy implies entitlement. This is something else.
If I stay here, I’ll end up watching something form. Something I don’t belong to. If I move first, I can control the damage.
I’ll take more contracts. Spend time away. I can make the transition gradual enough that no one will notice the distance widening until I’m gone.
Better to walk away on my own terms than wait to be edged out.
I’m loosening a gasket when the workshop door creaks open. I hear her footsteps before she speaks. “Boyd.”
The sound of her voice and her use of my name make every muscle stiffen.
Kira’s sleeves are pulled over her ungloved hands. Her hair’s loose around her shoulders. She hesitates in the doorway, like she’s not sure she’s welcome, and guilt knocks me in the gut.
I straighten and brush my hands off. “Hey, everything okay?”
As she steps inside, the heater casts a soft glow across her face, and I fight to ignore it. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she says. “You’ve been acting weird.”
“That’s how I always am.”
She doesn’t even smile. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her directness catches me off guard. “I haven’t—”
“You have.” Her tone doesn’t sound accusing. She’s stating a fact. “You don’t look at me the same. You disappear when I come into a room.”
She looks around the workshop as she draws in a breath. Then, she looks back at me. “If I’ve done something to irritate you, I’d rather know than try to guess what’s wrong. Or … if you’re tired of having me here, you can say that, too.”
“No,” I say quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” The last thing I want is for her to feel unwelcome.
“Then what?” She shrugs her arms wide in question, before letting them fall back against her sides.
The workshop suddenly feels too small, all the space taken up by silence.
I scrub a hand over my face, as my heart thuds. “I’m not good at … this part.”