Griffin’s gaze leveled on Jasper. “This is a private conversation.”
“You’re yelling at my wife.”
My jaw dropped.
It took a brave man to stand up to my brothers. That calm and collected I dreamed of? Jasper had it. Maybe he’d teach me.
Knox blinked. Then he dropped his chin, lifting a hand to rub over his mouth. Almost like he was surprised.
I stared up at Griffin, expecting to see that murderous glare he’d inherited from Dad. Except his scowl was gone. He looked . . . shocked. Intrigued? What the hell was happening?
“Sorry,” Griff muttered.
Jasper just kept staring at Griffin, his gaze as hard as I’d ever seen. Goose bumps broke out on my forearms as I stood between them, my head whipping back and forth, waiting for someone to speak or make a move.
But they were locked in this strange staring contest. Was this a good thing? A bad? Why were men so complicated?
We needed to go back to the yelling because then at least I knew what was going on.
Griffin was the first to break. His arms fell relaxed to his sides. He dropped his attention, his blue eyes finding mine. “You need to call Mom.” His voice was so gentle it hurt.
“I will.”
“Now. Not later today. Now. I know you’re avoiding this because it’s going to be hard. But she’s hurt.”
Ouch. “Okay.”
“Better add Talia and Lyla to your list.” Knox gave me a sad smile.
Griffin sighed, shaking his head. “Do you need help hauling stuff out of here? I can go home and bring in a horse trailer.”
My chin began to quiver. Tears welled. They might be mad, disappointed, but they were still my big brothers. And they’d help me move.
“Rain check?” I asked.
Griffin nodded, touched the tip of my nose, then without another word, turned and walked out of the house.
Knox jerked up his chin to Jasper, then followed.
It wasn’t until the rumble of Griffin’s truck vanished down the block that I relaxed, sagging into Jasper’s hold. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” He let me go, then stepped around me, taking the suitcase I’d hauled out, carrying it to the Yukon.
I walked toward the door, watching as he loaded it inside.
Well, that had gone . . . it had gone.
“Stupid Eloise,” I muttered.
Not only had I hurt my family but Jasper hadn’t deserved that ambush from my brothers. The person at fault here was me.
And I had more apologies to make.
So I squared my shoulders and headed for the kitchen, to where I’d left my phone earlier.
By the time I was done making phone calls, Jasper had taken the SUV to the A-frame and unloaded the boxes. When he came back to pick me up, I’d already cried three times.
Once, while talking to Mom. Again, while talking to Dad. The third time, after I’d left a message for Lyla.
I’d called Talia after my parents, and she’d warned me that Lyla might not want to talk.
It was heavy. Carrying around the weight of this kind of mistake was heavy. Maybe Jasper felt it too because when we got back to the cabin, he changed clothes and left for a run.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking, claiming the small closet in the tiny office for myself. Dinner was quiet. Afterward, Jasper built a fire and read a book while I continued to unpack. And after darkness fell, he retreated to the loft.
“You coming up?” he asked from the top of the stairs.
“In a bit.”
He gave me a sad smile, then turned off the light.
This was going to end in a disaster, wasn’t it? We were doomed.
Instead of climbing the stairs, I found a blanket and pillow.
And fell asleep on the couch.
CHAPTER TEN
JASPER
The moment I opened the front door and stepped inside the A-frame, the acrid scent of burnt food slapped me in the face. Smoke hazed the kitchen, clouding the air as the early evening light shined through the windows.
“What the fuck?” I set my backpack on the island and hurried to the stove, yanking the door open. It was empty. And off. But something had clearly died in there today.
“Eloise?” I called.
No answer.
No surprise.
She’d been avoiding me all week, ever since that encounter with her brothers at her rental.
Over the past six days, the reality of our situation had crept in, bitter and harsh, just like the scent in the cabin. We were strangers. And we were acting like it.
Not even sex was a commonality at this point, not with Eloise choosing to sleep on the couch.
A week ago, I’d thought this agreement of ours would be a damn breeze. The two of us would pretend for a while. We’d enjoy some hot, uncomplicated sex. Then after the wedding, we’d call it quits. Get a simple divorce. Part ways.
I was a fucking idiot for thinking this would be easy. Eloise and I were as fucked as whatever had been in my oven.
The smell stung my nostrils, so I strode for the closest window, only to find it already open. Then I glanced toward the back of the house to the sliding door, also open.
My wife sat on the deck.
I ducked into the laundry room, taking out the small fan stashed on the top shelf of the storage closet. With it in the kitchen window, running full blast, I propped open the front door to get some air flowing, then I headed outside.
The deck only rose about a foot off the ground. Eloise was sitting on the edge, her legs crossed, her gaze aimed to the trees. There was something black in her hand that looked a lot like a hockey puck. “I made cookies.”
The hockey puck. The source of the smoke and smell.
“Want one?” She held it up in the air, turning enough that I could see her face.
The look in those blue eyes made my chest pinch. There were tear tracks on her cheeks. Smudges of black from watery mascara that she’d tried to rub away. Or maybe that was from the cookie.
“Chocolate chip?” I asked, taking the burnt cookie.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t like chocolate chip cookies.” Winding it up like it was a Frisbee, I threw the cookie as far as possible, sending it sailing through the air and crashing into a tree trunk. Then I wiped my hands together, brushing away the charcoal dust, before I took a seat beside Eloise.
“You don’t like chocolate chip cookies?” she asked.
“No.”
“What’s your favorite cookie?”
“I don’t really like cookies. But if I had to choose, oatmeal raisin.”
“Oatmeal raisin? Oh my God, I married a monster.”
The corner of my mouth turned up. It was the first time I’d smiled in, well . . . a week.
“Sorry I stank up the house,” she said.
“It’ll fade.”
“Stupid Eloise,” she muttered.
“Call yourself stupid again, and I’ll take you over my knee.”
She gasped, her eyes widening.
“You’re not stupid.” I knew it was one of those off-handed, self-deprecating remarks, but I still didn’t like it. If I heard it again, I’d spank her beautiful ass until it was red. “So don’t say it.”
“Okay,” she whispered, her gaze running over my T-shirt and shorts. “Were you at the gym?”
“This morning. Then I went for a hike. Did you work today?”