The Wayward Sister (The Wayward Sons 5)

“You think they can keep it going—long term?”

“I don’t know, but if anyone deserves to give it a shot, it’s them.” She reaches for the handle. “They’ve been through hell and back and deserve someone that loves them, even if it’s just for a moment in time.”

I think about the possibilities—the options. Adrian, Smith, and I have been through a lot. A girl isn’t going to be the thing that splits us apart.

But, I think, watching Sierra hop out of the cab, I wonder if it could be something that brings us together.

16

Sierra

The smoke from the grill wafts into the house, making my mouth water. Holden had the idea while we were in town that we should cook out tonight. We bought the food we needed, and I pointed out the old charcoal grill under the house. The guys got to work.

I’m happy to be in the kitchen, out of the heat, prepping a salad to go with the meal. I like having the guys here, really like it, actually, but sometimes just being around them can be overwhelming.

I’m taking a sip of my beer when Smith walks in the room. He smells fresh, all the guys showered after either working on the house or heading into the Park for a few hours. Smith and I had done our best not to be alone since they’d moved in. Or at least, I’d done my best. I’d felt like he may be avoiding me all around, which made his appearance in the kitchen all the more surprising.

“Hey, uh,” he looks around me, eyes searching, “do you have any soy sauce?”

“I think so,” I say, opening the cabinet in front of me. I push through the bottles until I find the one I’m looking for. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking it from me. I focus on the carrots on the cutting board, but notice he doesn’t leave.

“Something else?” I ask, feeling that tickle of nervousness I get when he’s around.

His jaw tenses. “I just want to thank you for letting us stay here. I know me being around isn’t easy.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“I flipped out on New Year’s. That was on me—not you. I want to just make that clear.”

I set down the knife. “Smith, you came to my defense in the bar the other night. You’ve replaced shingles on my roof. You even sat outside in the car to make sure I was okay. We’re good. Just because you didn’t want to kiss me doesn’t make you a bad guy.” I turn back to the carrots. “It makes me a really bad judge of a situation, that’s all.”

Again, he doesn’t move other than the twitch in his jaw.

“You’re not a bad judge,” he says quietly.

My heart flips. “What?”

“Your judgement wasn’t off, Sierra. I wanted to kiss you that night. Big time. But when it happened, it was…I don’t know…a little more intense than I imagined. I’ve got a lot of set rules in my life. Rules that keep me on track. Rules I learned the hard way.” He swallows. “Kissing you was breaking those rules.”

Without another word, he takes the bottle of soy sauce and walks out of the kitchen as though he hadn’t just dropped a bomb. He’d wanted to kiss me too that night. I hadn’t misread the situation. The stuff about rules? God, he sounds like Dexter, too caught up in his own drama to enjoy the world around him.

Or at least, he used to be.

Dinner is nice; the sun slips behind the mountain, leaving cooler air. I zip up my hoodie and watch as Holden maintains the fire pit, tossing in new logs. The outside hadn’t fared so well without upkeep, but I’d been trying to spend a little time out here each day.

“Too bad it’s still hazy up there,” Adrian says, glancing toward the sky. It can take weeks for the view to clear after a fire that size. “But they did say we could go back to the cabin soon and see if there’s anything salvageable.”

No one seems very optimistic.

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nbsp; Holden gathers the plates, and Adrian starts collecting bottles. They mention an early shift tomorrow in the Park, and a few minutes later Smith and I are alone on the deck, fire crackling between us.

“So,” I say, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ve heard that Adrian started life as a petty theft and Holden a gluttonous party boy.” I shift my eyes to Smith, who is poking the fire with a long stick, “What about you? What’s your story? How did you end up in the wilderness program?”

“I told you,” he says, eyes glowing from the fire, “I spent the first half of my life breaking any and every rule I could. It was like a compulsion. The counselors called it 'oppositional defiance'. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do.”