My Heart For Yours (Sinful Secrets 2)

“Never.” Kellan smiles at Cleo, and they latch hands.

“She is.” He winks into the rear view mirror.

“You should be glad my sense of romanticism is strong,” she teases.

“Oh, I am. I really am.” I can hear a cord of sincerity in his low voice, and I wonder what it means. Then I remember his history, and I realize it’s probably that. I don’t think I got quite the whole story at breakfast, but I gathered the two of them met through Kellan’s marijuana business, and he was admitted to the hospital for a long time with a relapse when he and Cleo hadn’t know each other very long.

“Ah, shit.” Barrett tilts his head back, gritting his teeth. He lets my hand go, heaves a breath out, and fishes into his pocket. “I had a meeting with Mallorie, to see a place. Right now. Damn,” he murmurs as he texts.

“She’s so nice.” I bump his arm lightly. “Don’t worry.”

Sure enough, Mallorie Pryce tells him he can see the space later today, or

any day.

“Just a minute, Mallorie.” He covers the mouthpiece and looks to me. “One thirty?”

“Sure.”

“We should go too,” I hear Cleo telling Kellan as Barrett gets off the phone with the realtor.

Kellan laughs. “Maybe—if Barrett wants us to. Whatcha say, B.?”

Barrett leans back against the seat and finds my hand again with his. “You guys want to stay around that long?”

“Are you trying to get rid of us?” Kellan smiles at his brother in the rearview mirror, and I can feel a warmth between the two of them.

“No way.” Barrett surprises me, loosening his grip on my hand so he can lean up and ruffle Kellan’s blond hair. He drapes his arm loosely around Kellan’s neck and says, “I missed my little bro.”

Kellan’s hand closes around Barrett’s thick forearm. I can’t see Barrett’s face, but I can see Kellan’s. For just a second, I can see the relaxation in his features: a kind of peacefulness. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed.

A millisecond later, Barrett’s back beside me, smiling like he, too, feels good. It’s no wonder, if you think about it. He probably felt like all the guys he served with were his brothers, and it seems he lost the closest one. So he needs Kellan. Having lost his twin, I’m going to guess that Kellan needs Bear, too.

With that in mind, the next few hours spent with Kellan and Cleo—touring Barrett’s house; going into the enclosure, where I sneak Cleo over to see Brooksie, curled up in a hollow tree; then drinking wine on Barrett’s back porch while Kellan and Barrett shoot a bow—feel blissfully satisfying.

It’s been ages since I hung out in a group like this, and maybe even longer since I spent a long day with a non-Jamie friend with whom I felt as comfortable as I do around Cleo.

By the time we load back up into Kellan’s ride to see the studio space, Kellan and Barrett are chumming it up like the bros they (literally) are, and Cleo and I are giggling about things that possibly aren’t even funny unless you’ve got a midday wine buzz.

As it turns out, the studio space is almost perfect: 1,600 square feet of former yoga center space along Brook Street, priced under market because the owner’s husband has some rare disease they need to move to Germany to treat.

I catch myself watching Kellan’s face as Mallorie explains how the only real treatment the guy can get is experimental, and not legal in America. I swear, I think he loses a little color in his cheeks. When, as we move down the little hall between two rooms, Cleo catches Kellan’s hand and squeezes, I feel almost sure that I was right.

He probably has PTSD from having cancer. Damn, that sucks. As we walk back toward the front door, Barrett warms an arm around me. He strokes my arm and gives me a quizzical look.

I smile. “I love this place,” I murmur.

His brows arch, and he nods. The walls already have mirrors and the floors are covered with those foamy mats whose vinyl scent takes me back to the Taekwondo studio where Rett and I learned. They only major thing we—Barrett, really—might want to do is busting out two walls to make the two rooms in the front of the space into one giant room.

Barrett drives us home: to his home, and as Kellan opens the front passenger side Bear leans into the back seat where Cleo and I are sitting. “Be right back,” he tells me quietly. “Just going to let them in.”

The three of them go up the stairs, and I wait, feeling slightly awkward and admiring Kellan’s car, which smells phenomenally new car-ish.

Cleo and Kellan disappear through Barrett’s front door, and I watch Barrett descend the stairs. I can see him smiling toward me even though I know he can’t see me through the windows’ heavy tinting. Still, I smile back.

I’m still smiling when he opens my door. “Over the river and through the woods?” he asks, nodding back toward my house. He gives me a little smile that makes a flock of birds swoop through my stomach.

“Sure.” We fall into step beside each other, weaving between pines and through the crackling leaves. “So are they leaving?”