*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** I've been in love with my best friend, Finn Hartley, since we met in college ten years ago. It's not like I'll ever tell him I have feelings for him. I know he doesn't see me that way. He probably won't ever see me that way. Right now, we’re in his living room, and I’m holding him to my chest, listening to him sob. That damn girlfriend of his has broken his heart again, the third time this year. "I can't believe she did this to me, Sloane," Finn says. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to ignore how good it feels. "What exactly did she do?" I ask. "You still haven't told me." "I don't know how to say it." "Well, start from somewhere." My patience is wearing thin. I've been here for hours, sacrificing my Saturday to watch him disintegrate. I don't know why he bothers crying when he'll be back in her bed by next week anyway. They do this every damn time. I should be more sympathetic, I know. But ten years of watching him chase after the same to
I feel my face flame. Who does this girl think she is?"I'm not," Finn replies, not even pausing to think."Bummer." Amber pouts. "I do want to see her naked, though."What's her problem? Is she mocking me? Making fun of the plain, awkward friend? Or is there something genuine in her interest? Either way, I don't want to stick around to find out.I turn and push my way through the crowd, heading for the restroom, needing space, air, silence.Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chant silently. What did I expect would happen tonight?In the bathroom, I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the smudged mirror. "Get your shit together," I mutter. "This was your idea."My brilliant plan to cheer up Finn has backfired spectacularly. Instead of distracting him from Delilah, I've pushed him into the arms of Amber. And now I'm hiding in a bathroom while they're probably exchanging saliva and phone numbers.I splash some cold water on my wrists, reapply my lipstick, and steel myself to go
I drag Finn by his jacket all the way to my company's parking lot, ignoring his protests.The moment we're in front of his car, I whirl around to face him.“What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You seriously want to crash your ex’s wedding? Have you completely lost your mind?”Finn runs a hand through his hair. “I need closure, Sloane.”“No, Finn. You need professional help. Therapy.”“I can’t just sit still and watch the woman I love marry someone else.”God. I want to punch him in the face. I want to kiss him until he forgets Delilah Crestfield ever existed. I want to scream until I shake the stars loose from the sky.“So what’s the plan, huh? You gonna storm the aisle? Ruin her big day? Shove the groom off the altar and declare your undying love like some cliché rom-com protagonist? Jesus, Finn, you’re better than this.”“I don’t want to destroy the wedding,” he mutters. “I just… I need her to look me in the eyes and tell me it’s over.”My breath catches.I hate him. I hate how stupidl
So this is the infamous Knox.I’ve heard stories. Finn talks about him the way you'd talk about a stray wolf that occasionally shows up to your campfire, steals your food, and disappears back into the woods. Wild. Unpredictable. Maybe even a little unhinged.Now that I think about it, he does resemble Finn—same sharp bone structure, same annoyingly perfect mouth. But where Finn is sunshine and charm, Knox looks like he crawled out of a lifestyle magazine for sophisticated gangsters.“How do I know you’re not a kidnapper?” I ask, tilting my chin up. “You’ll have to provide proof that you’re who you say you are.”“Like an ID card?”“That would work.”“I don’t have any.”“See? Kidnapper vibes,” I say.“Why don't you call Finn and confirm?”I cross my arms. “He’s not answering. Why do you think I’ve been standing here for an hour like an abandoned dog?” I glance at the car. “And you showing up in an aggressive-looking muscle car that screams ‘mafia boss’ isn’t exactly helping your case.”
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** I must say, I did not expect Finn’s best friend to be this charming. Finn’s always painted her as some awkward nerd. But this? This sharp-tongued, darkly dressed woman standing in the middle of the sex shop, casually discussing electrocution and BDSM gear with the sales rep, is not what I signed up for. And yet… I can’t look away. Her leather pants are sinfully tight. Her dark boots are heavy against the polished floor. Her blouse clings to her like a second skin, and those blunt bangs and glasses? They remind me of the dominatrixes in my club. All she's missing is a riding crop and a stern command on those full lips. I watch as she lifts a violet wand, a device used to deliver electrical sensations such as shocks. “How dangerous is this?” she asks the sales rep. “In what sense?” “Like… would the highest voltage be enough to cause, I don’t know… electrocution? Just enough to zap someone’s soul out of their body.” I nearly choke fighting a laugh. “Th
***~~SLOANE~~***I can’t believe this.Three hours on a plane. An hour stuck in that miserable Asheville airport. All to find Finn tongue-deep in Delilah Crestfield?Finn has the audacity to look guilty.“Sloane, I’m so sorry you had to see this—”“Sorry?” I cut him off, my voice trembling with rage. “I expect you to have a modicum of self-respect, Finn. That woman is getting married in two days, and you're making out with her?”“Would you rather he make out with you instead?” Delilah asks. “Don’t do that,” Finn snaps at her.“Why not? She’s miserable because no one wants her. That’s why she spends her life trying to control yours. You’re old enough to do whatever you want.”"Old enough? You both are acting like children," I say. “What’s the plan here, Finn? Sneak around behind her fiancé’s back? Screw her in the honeymoon suite while poor Hunter’s passed out?”Delilah laughs like this is all some kind of twisted joke. Her engagement ring flashes in the light, something obviously e
I feel something break inside me. How does loving Finn make me miserable?“Let me go, Knox,” I say, my voice trembling. “You might not be a good brother, but I’m a good friend. I’m not going to sit around and watch my friend be deceived again. I’m going out there.”Knox doesn’t budge. His grip on my waist remains firm, his body immovable. In a voice so calm it only fuels my rage, he says, “I can’t let you go out there, Kitten. I will physically restrain you if I have to.”“Who the hell do you think you are?” I snap. “You don’t get to control me, Knox. Let. Me. Go.”“I’m not controlling you. I’m preventing you from making a fool of yourself—again.”If my hands were free, I probably would have slapped him by now. “I’m beginning to see why Finn almost never mentioned you in the ten years I’ve known him. You're such an arrogant, infuriating douchebag who cares about nothing else but himself. You'd rather watch your own brother get his heart ripped out than actually do something about it.
*** ~~KNOX~~ *** I’d be lying if I said I’m surprised Finn walked in on me holding Sloane. I’d anticipated it. Hell, I orchestrated it. He’d been out there crying over his toxic little temptress, and I’d seen him coming back. I’d seen Delilah storm off like the walking soap opera she is. But Sloane had been too caught up in our argument—too riled up and flushed and breathless—to notice any of these. Right now, she looks like she wants to dissolve into the floor. I almost feel guilty. “Making out?” she says. “Did you drink the pool water or something, Finn? We were just talking.” She tries to play it off with a smile, but it comes out looking like she's undergoing an electrocution. “Talking,” Finn repeats. “With his hands around your waist?” “That was my fault,” she blurts, stepping forward. “I saw you running after Delilah in a hurry and had this funny feeling you wanted to drown her. So I tripped while running to the window to watch and interfere if I had to. Knox caught
Knox walks over without a word, climbs into the bed, and pulls me into him. One arm drapes over my waist, the other reaches out and turns off the bedside lamp.Darkness fills the room.I can feel the thump of his heart beneath my cheek.I slide my hand down, fingers trailing the hem of his shirt and then slipping beneath it. His skin is hot, tight over muscle. I keep going, dipping under the waistband of his pants. The elastic snaps as my wrist slips past it.I find what I’m looking for with no effort.Hard already. Just from being close.The part of him that’s ruined me more times than I can count. The part that makes me forget my name when it’s inside me.It twitches in response to my touch, like it’s greeting me. Like it remembers me too.My fingers graze the piercing, and even in the dark, I can feel his breath hitch. Just a small break in the rhythm, a crack in the calm.God, I love that.“Did it hurt when you got pierced?”“Somewhat.”“Why’d you get it?”“Because I like pain. An
“You can’t possibly be serious,” I say. “You want to leave me on this bed all alone?”I expect him to laugh in that dark way of his, saying gotcha. But I see it in his eyes.He actually means it.There’s no teasing glint, no trace of smugness or mischief. Just this unreadable flatness—like he’s trying to keep something buried under control.I grip his hand. “You’re not going anywhere.”“Sloane, listen—”“No, you listen. I’ve obeyed you all evening while you bossed me around like some war general. Now it’s my turn.” I yank his hand, firmer this time. “Get on the fucking bed, Knox.”That gets me a smile from him. “Feisty,” he says. “That was stimulating. Do it again.”“I’m not playing.” I keep my hand locked around his, not budging. “Don’t turn this into a joke.”His smile lingers, but something changes behind it—something quieter, more fragile. Not weak, no. Knox doesn’t do weak. But… afraid?Is that what this is? Fear?I step toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my
Just like that, the desire drains from Knox's face. “Hard?” he says. “He’s clearly not doing well with me leaving. And it's understandable. I’ve been the only constant in his life for years. He hardly goes home. He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t have friends. Just me. And Delilah, of course. Who knows what he’ll do next? He could get himself incarcerated or worse. He needs help, Knox. Not threats. Not more trauma.” His jaw flexes. “What are you saying exactly?” “I’m saying let me get him the help he needs. There's no rule that states I can't date one brother and help the other.” “Sloane—” “Come on. I won't be able to live with myself if he does something he can't come back from. He's crazy. I should have known he'd not take this well. He doesn’t cope well with abandonment. I just need to make sure he gets therapy.” “You mean get institutionalized?” “Please?” Knox sighs and looks away, muttering something I don’t catch. But when he turns back, I know it already. He’s not going
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** I walk into the room slowly, my feet soft on the linoleum. My eyes are fixed on Knox’s hand as it releases Finn’s casted arm. Neither of them answers my question. Not with words. But the silence is loud enough to fill the space between them. Finn’s perched on the very edge of the bed now, his body angled like he was trying to get away. His uninjured hand clutches the edge of the mattress. Knox is standing above him, jaw set, eyes unreadable, his hand just now slipping back into his pocket like nothing happened. But I know what I saw. Knox had been bent forward when I walked in, squeezing Finn's injured arm. At some point, one of them will have to spill what history lies between them. Because this—whatever it is—doesn't seem like it has anything to do with Finn taking Delilah from Knox, which had been my initial guess. You can feel it—that one of them hurt the other a long time ago, and they’ve both been carrying it ever since. But whatever it was, it wasn’
“Bunny,” I breathe, crossing the distance in a few long strides and pulling her straight to my chest. She melts into me. Just folds into my body like she belongs there. No hesitation. I kiss her forehead, bending slightly because she’s always smaller without her heels. “It’s not your fault,” I murmur. “Shit happens.” “I left him,” she whispers. “I knew how psychotic he can get when he feels abandoned. Yet I left.” “You had to. People meet, and they part ways.” She pulls back, eyes red-rimmed but clear. “I’m going to make sure he gets help.” I brush her bangs out of her face, fingers lingering on her temple. “Of course. He’ll get all the help he needs. I’ll see to that.” She nods. Her eyes search mine like she’s looking for something final in them. Some reassurance. “Should we call your parents?” she asks. “He broke an arm, right?” “Yes. And he’s concussed.” “Can he talk?” “Yeah.” “Can he move?” “Yes.” “He’ll survive. Just wait down the hall for me, alright? I gotta ch
I exhale. “Just our usual problems. You know how it is.” She's still skeptical but nods. “Alright. So who do I need to call? Your mom? Your dad?” I shake my head. “No. Don’t. My family’s far away. There’s no need to make them panic and hop on a plane. You’re my only friend here.” I meet her eyes. “You’re enough.” She hesitates. Her gaze drops to the floor, then back to me. “I’ll call Knox.” “No!” Too fast. “I have to let someone know,” she says. “Just relax, Finn. Lay back.” I watch her pull out her phone and walk toward the hallway. My stomach sinks. This isn’t going as planned. She’s supposed to sit here. Feed me jello. Fluff my pillow. Cry a little maybe. Re-forge the bond I’ve been trying to drag back together since the wedding fell apart. But instead, she’s dialing him. And just before she walks out of earshot, I hear her say: “Hey, babe. So, um, your brother got in an accident and—” I close my eyes. Shit. Knox is going to come. He’ll hear Sloane’s voice. Hear tha
*** ~~FINN~~ *** Delilah hasn’t stopped glaring at me. She’s sitting to my left in the only visitor chair in the room, arms crossed so tightly across her chest I’m half-convinced she’s trying to fold herself in half. Her legs are angled away from me, but her eyes—they haven’t moved. Not once. Not since the doctor gave her visitation clearance. “Could you stop with the looks, please?” I grumble, adjusting myself on the hospital bed. My arm is immobilized in a heavy-duty sling, wrapped and elevated with what feels like ten pounds of gauze and Velcro. “I’m already in pain as it stands. I don’t need you breathing down my neck.” Delilah only glares harder. “I could go to jail for what I did,” she says. “No, you won’t. I asked you to do it. It was my decision.” She looks away for the first time, fingers threading through her hair as she rubs her temple. Her voice comes quieter. Tighter. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I stupidly agreed to break your arm with a hammer and
I set my bag down on the couch and sink into the seat.Mom turns sideways. Her eyes are soft but expectant. Waiting for something.An answer.A promise.A miracle, maybe.‘Meet someone new.’Like it’s that simple.Like I’ll just show up to this magical barbecue, beam a dazzling smile at some guy, and he’ll be The One.A perfect suburban fantasy.God.The worst part is…I know she’s not completely wrong.Being with Knox might be dangerous. The man himself is a danger. I can feel it every time he looks at me with those eyes—heavy-lidded and full of promises that don’t look anything like good intentions. He’s into something dark; that's for sure. I can feel it in my bones.Something he won’t talk about.And I’ve seen enough movies to know how this goes.It’s always the girlfriend who ends up kidnapped by the main character’s rival, drowned in a bathtub, or shot through the heart in a drive-by—because she loved the wrong man.But Knox never pretended he was good.Not once.And I…I accep
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** Today turned out to be more productive than I anticipated. I wish I could say this renewed vigor for work has anything to do with Knox screwing me against a closet earlier today. No. As far as I know, thinking about Knox being inside me is my biggest source of distraction. Not my proudest moment, but I spent half the day quietly plotting how I might steal Knox’s phone and hack into it. Funny, isn’t it? How picturing yourself stealing your boyfriend’s phone—and actively contemplating breaking about a hundred cybersecurity ethics to hack into it—can light a fire under your ass. Normal people would just ask their boyfriends about the things they wanted to know. Normal boyfriends would actually answer. But no. Knox Hartley is about as tight-lipped as a CIA agent under torture. And the inquisitive part of me? Yeah, she’s not resting until she cracks him open. As I drive back toward my apartment, I run through the possibilities like I’m prepping a heist: —