Unspoken Vow (Steele Brothers 2)

Worst of all, I’m terrified that Kyle getting out will hit a giant reset button on any of the progress I’ve made in the six years he’s been away.

I never went to visit him while he was locked up. Not once. Karen had suggested it, and then she used the dreaded C word on me: closure.

I didn’t need closure when it came to Kyle. My ex-boyfriend was a psycho. End of story. No closure needed.

He didn’t deserve my attention.

No, just my sanity.

I hate that I’ve given him so much of my past six years. He doesn’t deserve any more.

It’s not fair he’s being released while I’m still suffering—I’ll be suffering to some degree for the rest of my life—but he gets to move on. He gets a life.

That’s when Meatball jumps up on the counter and headbutts my hand. While pulling her to me and cuddling her, I look around at the evidence of my life.

I’ve become comfortable in the spacious and homey apartment. I’m even more comfortable here than I am at Law and Reed’s place. Law has been my safety net for so long, I never thought I’d have this feeling anywhere but with him.

I have a grumpy cat who loves me, and, for some reason, is only grumpy towards everyone else. Although, she’s tolerant of her servant boy, Brody.

And best of all is Brody. My man. The only person who makes me feel safe and out of control at the same time. He drives me crazy in both good ways and bad. He’s the most patient person I know, and I still don’t know how he puts up with my shit half the time.

But I never question it.

He’s seen me at my worst, and he only brings out the best in me.

The front door to the apartment clicks open, and the devil himself steps through wearing his business pants, collared shirt, and sweater.

His new job at Legal Aid is a lot more casual than his old job at his dad’s firm, but it’s still just as stressful. At least now when he comes home and complains about a case, he’s on the right side of the argument.

Brody took it as a sign that when he enquired about working with them, they needed someone in their Family and Domestic Abuse department. He’s helping more people like me, and while I don’t like to hear details of the cases, I know he’s doing a good job.

And the best thing? Working for a government department means he’s home at a reasonable time every day.

The pay is half what he was getting at his dad’s firm, but aside from my therapy bills, we don’t have many expenses.

Brody must’ve had a good day because he drops his briefcase by the couch and stalks towards me and Meatball with a giant smile on his face.

His lips land on the top of my head and then the cat’s. “My two favourite people.”

“Since when is Meatball people?”

He waves his hand. “You know what I mean. How long do we have until we have to be at your brother’s thing?”

“Half an hour.”

Brody’s eyebrows waggle. “Plenty of time for blowjobs, then?”

A laugh bursts from my throat.

Over the past few months, we’ve managed to have sex without restraints, but we’ve both agreed it might take a few more times for it to become good sex. It’s kinda awkward—a lot of reassuring, too much worrying, and it’s slow. All of which, Ed Shearon assures us, is healthy and understandable.

Still, it’s been another small step in the right direction.

Blowjobs though, those, we’ve pretty much mastered. Even if Brody still has to sit on his hands. At least he doesn’t need to be properly bound. Though if we’re not after a quickie, he’ll always ask to be restrained because he loves it even more than I need it.

I place Meatball on the counter and spin on my stool. Brody’s chest is right there in front of me, begging me to run my hands all over it.

The chance to do it doesn’t happen though, because Brody’s gaze flicks to the envelope I haven’t yet opened.

“Oh, shit.” Brody reaches for it. “Need me to call Karen?”

Yes, my boyfriend and my therapist are on a first-name basis. No, it’s not weird. Not weird at all.

It’s a little weird.

“I thought you were giving me a blowjob.” Oh, deflection, my oldest and dearest friend.

“You haven’t opened it?” Brody ignores me. Damn him.

I shake my head. “It’s nothing we weren’t expecting.”

“How do you know? He might’ve gotten shanked in prison and now he’s not our problem. One could hope …”

“You’re so cute, getting all violent-y for me.” I pat the top of his head. “But I’m sure they wouldn’t send me a letter saying, ‘You’re free!’ if that were to happen. We both know it’s gonna say he’s free.”