Hurricane Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 1)

Gripping his arm, I said, “No.” I then picked up my empty wineglass, got up, and refilled it. When I sat back down, I ignored his frown and squished myself as far away from him as I could. He and his mixed signals could have that end of the couch while I had this end.

29

WINTER

Birdie was in a mood and I was bouncing off it. Melissa was moody too, which meant dinner had turned into a fucking wreck. Melissa wavered between being nice to Birdie and then bitchy to me. In the kind of passive-aggressive way I fucking hated. I hadn’t expected less from her, and I’d been prepared for it, but Birdie’s mood screwed with my headspace. Not that my head had been in a good place today.

Max and I spent the day clearing out Dad’s study and his bedroom. It took a lot longer than either of us had thought it would. Hell, neither of us were mentally prepared for the task. Looking through all the belongings that meant something to our father, and touching each item, had been far worse than sitting through his funeral yesterday.

I’d left his place feeling all kinds of fucked up. When I’d returned to the hotel to get ready for dinner, I knew Birdie wanted me to catch her up on how we were going with Dad’s house, but I hadn’t had it in me to get into it. Not because I didn’t want to give her the information or talk to her about it, but because I couldn’t talk about it.

It was too fucking hard to discuss the fact my father’s clothes no longer hung in his wardrobe where they’d hung for decades. Or to discuss the fact his refrigerator no longer stood in his kitchen, covered with childhood photos of Max and me. Or to discuss the fact that everything he and Mum had owned now sat lumped together in boxes that were stacked on top of each other in some dark, cold cement storage shed.

I’d helped my brother pack my parents’ lives up this week and it was one of the hardest fucking things I’d ever had to do. And as much as Birdie wanted me to rip that information from my heart and give it to her, I couldn’t do it this afternoon. And so we sat next to each other all night with our simmering tension twisting and grating.

“So, when are you guys heading back to Sydney?” Melissa asked as we finished eating dessert.

Birdie had pushed her piece of chocolate cake around her plate for the last five minutes, seemingly unable to eat but a few bites. At Melissa’s question, she looked at me with arched brows that I didn’t like the look of.

“I’d planned to leave Sunday, but it looks like I may be needed back for work before then. Maybe Friday,” I said, taking my last bite of cake while trying like fuck to ignore the irritation that Birdie had flared with. This had been going on all night. Almost everything I said appeared to piss her off.

Melissa looked at Birdie. “And you’re heading back at the same time?”

Birdie nodded. “Yes.” Then, glancing between Melissa and me with a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she said, “Well, I think so. Unless Winter—”

Fuck.

I cut her off. “Yes, we’re heading back at the same time,” I said with a tone that called for no argument. Of course we fucking were.

Birdie scowled at me and drained her glass of wine. Thank fuck she’d reached the end of her supply for the night. The alcohol she’d drunk was mixing with whatever the fuck she was angry about, making her mood worse.

She shoved her chair back. “I’m going to the bathroom,” she snapped.

Melissa stood and cleared the plates, also throwing a scowl my way. I hadn’t said a thing out of place to her tonight, so I figured she was holding onto her anger and resentment towards me over the will.

As she left the room, Max said, “Birdie’s pissed off tonight, brother.”

I reached for my whisky and nodded before drinking some. “Don’t I fucking know it.”

“Did you two get into it before you came?” he asked, but before I could answer, Thomas called out for his father.

Max excused himself, leaving me alone when Melissa came back into the room. She looked to be on a mission to clear the table, so I stood to help her, but she shook her head. “I’ve got it.”

I ignored her and grabbed the empty glasses. I didn’t make a habit of not helping clean up after someone cooked me a meal.

“Suit yourself,” she muttered. “You always do.”

I stopped what I was doing. “Have we still got a problem, Melissa?”

She stopped, too. “Just because Max and I are sorting out our problems, doesn’t mean I’m good with you all of a sudden. Nothing has changed between us as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be civil towards you, but that doesn’t mean I like you. I still think the way you’re controlling your brother by refusing to sell your mother’s house is a big power trip for you. I don’t think you’re doing it for any other reason.”

“It’s clear to me that you’ll never even try to understand my reasons, let alone understand them, so I won’t bother trying to explain them to you again. But you should know that Max and I have spoken about this again and he understands.”

Her lips pressed

together. “That’s because he thinks the sun shines out of you.”

“He doesn’t, but like I said, I know you’ll never understand me or our relationship.”