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When I try to catch his eyes with mine, he cuts his gaze away, but his hand remains.
“Alec,” I whisper, and reluctantly, his look comes back to me. “That wasn’t your fault. You thought I was safe there with Rowan. You—”
Alec drops my arm, a deep scoff leaving him as he opens the door. “Don’t be a damn fool, Oakley.” He glances my way, doing a double take when he sees the question in my eyes. He gets in my space again. “You were right, and you know it. I left because had I stayed and heard him fucking you, heard you moaning for him, I’d have snapped his neck right then and there.”
I gasp. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
“In a fucking heartbeat.”
“He’s your brother!”
“Nothing will get in my way,” he growls.
My breath lodges in my throat. “Get in the way of what?”
“I told you to get ready.” Dark green eyes pierce mine, and my heart starts hammering against my chest. “I wasn’t playing. I’ve waited years for this. My patience is shot.”
My body stirs, fear and undeniable curiosity roaring through me.
I just can’t tell which is stronger.Chapter ElevenOakleyI can’t help but laugh at the stress-induced wrinkles covering Alec’s forehead as he downs a full bottle of water in two giant gulps. Apparently, everyone at Walmart after dark is “shady as fuck.” He about had a panic attack.
He glares at me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What?”
“Nothing.” I pinch my lips to the side, doing my best to keep from smiling.
“Fucking talk, Oakley.”
When I continue rinsing the vegetables, he slams a hand down beside me, making me jump.
I glance over my shoulder, my glare matching his. “Do you have no chill mode?”
“Where you’re concerned? No, I don’t.”
“Whatever. You need to work on your people skills,” I tell him, grabbing a knife to slice the peppers.
He steals it from my hand before I noticed him coming. “My people skills are fine.”
When he turns and starts chopping like a pro, my brows lift, but I don’t draw attention to it.
“For real though, you teach the importance of body language and communication. Surely, you must know how to dial back some. You’ve gotta learn how to balance the Wolverine/Logan thing.”
He scoffs through a chuckle. “Logan and Wolverine are the same person, princess. Try again.”
My skin warms at the endearment. This isn’t the first time he’s called me that, but his voice was tame, almost entertained, so the ease in which it rolled from his lips came across different, almost as if he was intrigued.
“I’m aware, but it’s the closest I could come in comparison to you.”
“This I gotta hear …” He steps beside me, checking the oil I poured in the bottom of the wok before tossing the bell peppers inside.
“Okay, well … Logan is intense and commanding, but he’s capable of compromise and even civilized conversation from time to time, whereas Wolverine is wild and unpredictable, untamable. A ticking time bomb with no count.” I think about Alec and the mystery I’ve never cared to solve but recently found the desire to know. “No one knows how he works or why he’s the way he is.”
My legs stiffen when a warm knuckle slides beneath my chin, and Alec brings my gaze up to meet his.
“Predictability means an easy target. Compromise leaves room for infiltration. And the only way to find out how something works is to study it. You’ve gotta pay close attention. You’ve never been real good at that, have you?”
I take a deep breath, my eyes shifting between his.
His point is accurate but also unfair. He chooses to act the way he does when he could be different with me, gentler. That’s on him.
“I pay attention,” I tell him.
One dark brow rises. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “There just isn’t much I want to remember.”
He watches me for a moment before dropping his hand and exiting the kitchen.
In a state of irritated confusion, I finish our fajitas, deciding my slamming cupboards and dishes around is enough notification that it’s time to eat.
Alec comes out of his room with his face in his phone. “Real subtle, Oakley.”
“Well, I don’t have a dinner bell, so …”
He pauses for a moment but decides not to acknowledge my reference to when we were kids.
His mom wanted so badly to have that Little House on the Prairie type of lifestyle where the kids came in for supper at the ring of the cow’s bell. They’d all sit around and talk about their day before a nice family game was played, and then they’d go to bed with full stomachs and happy hearts.
Their home was nothing like that.
With a dad who rarely came home and a mother who suffered from depression, the Daniels boys really only had each other. Until, one day, they didn’t even have that.
