Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(40)

That scowl only deepened, but again, I sensed it wasn’t a glower for me. “Of course it doesn’t.”

“Good,” I clipped. “Then you aren’t stupid either. But you should apologize for thinking I was.”

Dex gaped at me. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to bake me apology cookies, but I wouldn’t mind if you hacked into my cell phone plan and gave me some extra minutes or something.”

Dex just stared at me.

“What? Cell plans are expensive.”

That half smile was back, and I wanted to memorize every twist and curve. He shook his head. “You really are the worst, you know that, right?”

I beamed back at him. “If I’m the worst, you’re the worstest.”

And then Dex did something that knocked me sideways. He reached out and took my hand. The move was so quick that part of me wondered if it had even happened. It was the briefest squeeze of fingers, his large, callused ones sending a riot of sensations rocketing through me. And then they were gone.

“Always so damn unexpected, Hellion. Thank you.”

I was so stunned I couldn’t find words, but it didn’t matter because a throat cleared. I jolted like someone in a creepy clown mask had jumped out at me in a haunted house.

“Sorry,” Wylder said, his gaze flicking back and forth between his brother and me. “I thought you heard me walk up.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized my new boss had witnessed the moment. Not exactly something I needed.

“Guess I’m just oblivious. I, um, better get back to work. Those chairs aren’t going to wipe themselves down.” I booked it to the farthest possible table and didn’t look back.

But I could still feel Dex’s fingers curved around mine. The pressure. The heat. And I wondered when someone—other than Owen—had taken my hand last.

I couldn’t remember. And that just drove the ache in my chest deeper. Because for the first time in forever, I realized I wanted that. But I also knew I’d never risk what it took to get it.





17





DEX





Wylder was the brother I never got mad at. I could honestly count on one hand the number of times I’d lost my temper with him. The times I’d yelled or tried to deck him. And four of them were when I was under the age of ten.

But I was angry now, my temper bubbling to the surface. And it wasn’t just because he’d scared Brae and had her scampering off. It was because he’d sent her away. He’d broken the first moment in forever that I’d felt seen.

By someone who hadn’t lived through what I had. My brothers understood because they carried the same scars.

But for someone who hadn’t lived it to understand? That was a gift. And Brae had understood without me sharing a single detail.

Wylder studied me for a long moment.

“What?” I clipped, the anger bleeding into the word.

His brows lifted. “Just wondering what that was about.”

“So you had to stick your nose in?”

“When did you become such a grumpy bastard?” Wylder asked.

I sighed because he was right. I took a moment and sucked in air as if it could coat all my raw and ravaged edges. “Since I came back here and had to deal with narrow-minded assholes.”

It was a half-truth at best, but Wylder still went on alert. “Who?”

The word had an edge to it that would’ve been surprising to anyone except our brothers. Wylder gave off an easygoing, nonthreatening vibe to the world. It was his defense mechanism. A protection. But my brothers and I knew that if something tripped his justice trigger or threatened one of us, Wylder could become a completely different person.

“Breathe, hulk man. Just Miller being his prickish self, as usual.” My gaze flicked to Brae, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

And Wylder, being who he was, didn’t miss the minuscule movement. “He being an ass to her?”

I didn’t move my eyes from Brae. Couldn’t. Every moment I studied her gave me another piece of the puzzle. Like now. She was stronger than you would think. She might be small, but she could flip chairs and shift tables with the ease of someone twice her size.

Good.

Something about her being strong put me at ease. The knowledge that she could protect herself. Even though I knew the truth: everyone was at risk if someone knew the angles to hit.

“Dex,” Wylder growled.

My gaze finally snapped back to my brother. “Yeah, he’s being an ass to her. Stonewalling, mostly.”

Wylder’s gaze flicked to Brae, and I saw him assess her in a new way, pain flicking through dark-hazel eyes nearly identical to mine. Wylder wasn’t just the peacekeeper; he was our patron saint of lost souls. He took in anyone who needed an extra hand, and it had bitten him in the ass more than once.

But he never let it stop him. He’d offer jobs, counsel, a place to get your feet back under you. And he was a protector.

“That’s the last thing she needs,” he muttered.

I followed his line of sight, watching as Brae wiped down one final table and quickly moved on to refilling condiments. “No shit.”

An arm slid around my shoulders and Wylder’s, pulling us into a huddle. “What’re we talking about? Hot town goss?” Maverick asked, humor in his tone.