Page 143 of Before You Fell

None of us hear what he says except for Willow.

Cruz has always loved her in that protective, older-brother way that makes him notice when she is too quiet, tired, or when some asshole has pushed too far.

And usually, that asshole is me.

That is why he has spent years crawling up my ass every time I hurt her.

Willow pulls back, tears shining in her eyes, and looks up at him. Then she nods.

Cruz smiles down at her, soft in a way he rarely lets anyone see.

When he lifts his head, his eyes meet mine over Willow’s shoulder. His charm drops for half a second. Long enough for me to understand exactly what he is saying. Do not fuck this up again.

As Willow moves further into the apartment with the flowers in her arms and the guys trailing after her, I take her suitcase down the hall without making a thing of it.

I set it beside the wardrobe in her bedroom and stand for a second longer than I need to before heading back out and tucking my bag and guitar into a corner where none of these idiots can kick them.

Willow sits on the couch between Jax and Jett. Cruz stands nearby, arms folded, watching her.

They are all trying not to fuss, which means they are fussing like absolute amateurs.

Jax offers her chips. Then he offers a packet of crackers, which he immediately starts insulting.

“These are shit,” he tells her. “But you might like them. Some people do.”

Willow looks at the packet. “That’s a glowing endorsement.”

“I wanted the good ones, but asshat said these were better.”

Jett doesn’t even glance at him. “They’re whole grain.”

“Exactly. That’s the sign they taste like shit, but you might…”

She laughs, then puts her hand on Jax’s arm. The moment Willow touches him, he stops talking.

“Thank you, Jax,” she says.

I head to the kitchen to grab a drink. The guys already have beers. Willow has a glass of orange juice in front of her.

I open the fridge and find enough alcohol inside to suggest they are not planning to leave before dark.

For a second, I wonder if this is too much—too many voices, too much noise, and too many people watching her breathe, pretending they are not.

Then I remember why she asked me to stay instead of her parents. She wanted normal. This little fucked-up circus is the closest we have to it.

I grab a beer, twist off the cap, and head back to the living room. I drop into the armchair across from her, where I can watch without looking as though it’s exactly what I’m doing.

The room grows more quieter than it should.

Jax looks at me.

Jett looks at me.

I direct a gaze at both of them. “What?”

“Where are ours?” Jax asks, staring at the beer in my hand.

I glance down at the three empty bottles on the table. Fuck. They must have started drinking while they waited for Wills and I to arrive.