Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

A minute or so passed before he took a deep breath, exhaled it, and said, “I’ve been angry with Melissa for two years over the way her spending has impacted our family. It started off as a tiny spark, but because I’ve held onto that anger for all this time, and avoided dealing with it, it’s grown into this ugly thing that sits between us, festering. The place we’re in right now is a place I wouldn’t wish on my enemy. I know it’s why she started a friendship online with this other guy. And while I hate to say it, I can understand why she’s done it. Fuck, I’m no saint; I found myself flirting with a woman at work for a while there.” He paused briefly. “It’s easier to avoid the muck than it is to get in it. Don’t do that, brother. You love Birdie and you have another chance at a future with her. Get in the fucking muck with her.”

I threw some whisky down my throat as I contemplated what he’d said. There was so much there. Finally, I said, “You flirted with another woman?”

He shook his head. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you focus on?”

“Seriously, though, you’re Max Morrison, upstanding fucking citizen who lives his life in fucking order. You do all the right things. You try to please your wife. You help your community. You don’t fucking flirt with other women.” I drained my glass. “I can’t wrap my head around this.”

He shrugged. “We’re all just trying our best, and at the end of some days, our best isn’t quite up to standard. But whose fucking standard are we trying to live up to?” He drank some whisky. “None of us are perfect, Matt. Not me, not you, not Birdie. Not Mel. But in amongst all that imperfection is love that’s worth everything. That’s what you need to hold onto and keep remembering, brother.”

I couldn’t argue with him there; I’d always lived my life with the belief that perfection didn’t exist. And since all I’d ever wanted for my brother was for him to be happy, I couldn’t dispute what he said or how he handled his marriage and life. For the first time, it seemed that Max wasn’t avoiding his problems with Melissa. And regardless of whether I liked his choices, I supported his effort to find happiness.

Grabbing the bottle of whisky, I filled our glasses again and lifted mine. “To your happiness.”

He raised his glass and took a sip before saying, “I don’t want any fights between you and Mel tomorrow. Do you think you can manage that?”

I nodded, but before I had a chance to reply, Birdie’s voice sounded from the hall. “Hey, you two.”

Max stood. “Hey, Birdie.”

She embraced him before locking eyes on me. She didn’t speak, but everything from her body language, to her expression, to the look in her eyes was one big question. Are you still shutting me out?

Max broke the silence. “I’ve gotta call Mel.”

Birdie and I continued to watch each other as he left, barely registering his exit.

“Why are you here?” I asked, trying like hell to ignore the anger forcing its way up. I wasn’t ready for whatever conversation she wanted to have. Fuck, I wasn’t even sure I’d planned on returning to the hotel tonight. I’d told her this morning I’d be back, but after the day I’d had, I figured a bottle of whisky and crashing where I sat was how I’d likely spend the night.

My four words crushed her. The ache was right there in her eyes. In the twist of her beautiful features. In her sagging shoulders.

“I bought you some dinner,” she said warily, as if she was afraid of my response. Holding up a bag of what looked like Chinese takeout, she quickly added, “It’s a little cold now; I’ll heat it up for you.”

As she spun around to head into the kitchen, I said, “Leave it, Birdie. I’ll eat it later.”

Faltering, she stopped and turned back to me, pain slicing across her face. “Okay.” An agonising moment of silence filled the space before she continued. “I’ll put it in the kitchen.”

I let her go this time.

Fuck.

I forced out an angry breath.

Fucking hell.

I didn’t like being in this place with Birdie, and yet I was stuck. Unable to dislodge the emotions choking me.

She returned a minute later, hesitation written all over her. “You’ve packed up the house.” It was a statement, but I heard the question in there too. She appeared confused by the fact.

I emptied my glass and stood. “Yeah.” I didn’t acknowledge her confusion.

Tilting her head to the side, she pulled her brows in as she said, “That was fast.”

“Max wanted everything packed up and moved into storage so we can rent the place out as soon as possible.”

“I get that, but it’s only been three days, Winter. Don’t you want time to go through your Dad’s stuff and—”

“There are a lot of things I want, Birdie, that I can’t have,” I ground out. “Time with my dad’s belongings isn’t one of them.”

She recoiled like I’d slapped her, but it didn’t stop her from forcing the conversation between us. “I know you said you needed space, but I think that’s the last thing we need. I think—”