Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

“We’ll be contesting the will,” Melissa stated with absolute certainty, regardless of the fact she hadn’t consulted Max on that decision.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from him because so far he hadn’t appeared willing to challenge his wife on anything. And since that had generally been the way of their marriage while I’d been part of their family, I hadn’t been surprised. However, he stunned me with what he said now.

Standing, he met his wife’s gaze. “I need some time to think this over.” As she started to speak, he shook his head and cut her off. “That wasn’t me asking you for permission, Melissa. That was me telling you what I’ll be doing. You take the car and go home. I’ll find my own way there later.”

Melissa’s eyes widened with shock. “You can’t expect…. No, I’m not doing that… this is ridiculous….” Her voice trailed off as she struggled with his response.

I couldn’t be sure what caused it, but either something she said, or her tone, or maybe just all the baggage between them, caused Max to snap, “No, do you want to know what is ridiculous? My father died yesterday, and all you can think about today is this fucking will. I can expect anything I goddam well want, and what I expect is for my wife to comfort me, to care about my grief, to fucking put her shit about my family aside and just be there for me in any way I need. That’s what I want, and if you love me, that’s what you’ll do.”

With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving Melissa absolutely bewildered and speechless for once in her life.

Winter pushed his chair back and stood. “Birdie and I are moving to a hotel. I suggest you have a good long think about how you want to play this out, because I won’t be backing down. And as much shit as you throw at me, there’s no way I’ll ever walk away from Max. I will fight for my family until my dying breath.”

Melissa grabbed her bag, threw one last glare at us, and exited the room as fast as her husband had. Max’s tirade had shifted the dynamic between the three of them. She wasn’t used to being put in her place, and appeared lost for how to respond.

As I stood, Winter rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Fuck, I could do with a drink.”

I moved into him, putting my arms around his waist. “Let’s pack our stuff and find a hotel, meet with the funeral director, and then get you all the drinks you want.”

He contemplated that for a few moments before saying one of the nicest things he’d ever said to me. “I wish Max had found someone to love him how you love me. We’re not even together and yet you honour me with the kind of compassion and respect that she wouldn’t even know how to find for him, let alone show him.”

I smiled and rested my head against his chest. His arms circled me and we held each other for a long time. When I finally looked up at him and said, “I never stopped loving you,” I admitted to myself that he was right—that I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me.

He took hold of my face and brought his lips to mine. His kiss was gentle, the desperate passion of our last few kisses missing. But I still felt all his passion. Winter didn’t have to do wild and sexy for me to feel that, because he loved with an intensity I felt even during his silence.

When he ended the kiss, he said, “Thank fuck. I never stopped loving you either. And I never will.”

15

WINTER

Max and Melissa didn’t show up for the meeting with the funeral director. He didn’t call. He didn’t text. It was radio silence. As far as I was concerned, it was the best damn thing that had happened since I’d arrived in Brisbane this morning. It meant that my brother was finally facing some of his demons. I couldn’t recall one time in our lives when he hadn’t shown up and handled his responsibilities. Even when he had so much shit going on it could have buried him, he showed up.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t there to help us with the funeral arrangements. Dad had planned his own funeral and detailed his wishes in his will. All I had to do was hand those instructions over to the funeral director and ensure we were on the same page.

“Are you thinking about Max?” Birdie dragged me from my thoughts.

“Yeah.”

We’d checked into a hotel in the city and then headed to The Victory for a drink after I’d called some of Dad’s friends to let them know he’d passed. I wasn’t sure if Max had managed to make the calls, but I figured it wouldn’t matter either way. These were family friends I’d lived my entire life knowing; it was important to me to have a conversation with them about Dad. It had taken me just over an hour, and that had been one of the most difficult hours of my life. The glass of whisky I was halfway through would be the first of many after the day I’d had.

Birdie moved closer to me on the bench we sat on. “I think his marriage is in trouble. Like, I think it was in trouble before your dad’s death.”

Fuck, she smelled amazing. And she was too damn close for comfort. That was, if I was to have any hope of not trying to get inside her tonight. But since she’d told me she still loved me, I was rethinking my position on waiting to sleep with her. It took everything in me to go as slow as I was with Birdie. Now that I knew for sure how she felt, I was ready to speed shit up.

“Winter, did you hear what I said?”

I lifted the glass of whisky to my lips again, meeting her gaze. After I drank some, I said, “Yeah, I did, but I’m thinking about how good you smell, and I’d rather discuss you than my family.”

I knew by the way her eyes softened that she liked what I’d said. I also knew by the way she took a deep breath that she wanted to continue down her path of conversation rather than mine.

“We can discuss me later. I think you probably need to talk about the stuff going on. Talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.”

Talking about Max’s marriage was the last thing I wanted to do. Hell, talking about anything was the last thing I needed right now. I was wiped out from the events of the day. Dredging up family shit from years ago. Dealing with everything that had to happen now. Thinking about my father. I could cope with a lot of shit in life—had coped with a lot—but this, this was pushing my boundaries. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since I’d learned Dad had died, and yet it felt like a fucking lifetime. I didn’t need conversation now; I needed to feel like I wasn’t alone in this shit. In this life. And I needed that from Birdie.

I placed my glass down and ran a finger down her cheek. Slowly. My action full of intent. “There’s been enough talking today. I’m ready for something other than talking.”

Her eyes searched mine. Her breaths quickened. “I thought you didn’t want to fuck me.” Hell, her voice had turned all breathy, her desire laid bare. Birdie’s voice alone, like this, was enough to test my restraint. Every last ounce of it.