The Better Brother

“No need to be rude, baby bro,” Chance said. “Just coming in to check on things.”

I threw my hands up in the air as he grabbed his beer and came to stand beside Kyra. His eyes were locked onto me, like he was waiting for me to just abandon her with him and leave. He always had to get the last word in. He always had to be the big shot. He always had to get what he wanted, when he wanted it, because he was the oldest and had to set the example. Mr. Ex-Military with his faded hair bullshit on his head and his hunting escapades and his deer antlers or whatever.

I hated Chance sometimes.

“I’m really glad you’re back for the holidays, Kyra,” I said.

“I’m really glad I’m back, too,” she said.

Then, I grabbed the rest of the beers that were sitting on the counter, and I left. I’d rather wait until another time when I could get her alone than try to measure cocks against the big brother of the group.

But we all knew who would win that measuring contest. Only men insecure on shit like that acted the way Chance did.

CHAPTER FOUR – CHANCE

I felt my irritation at Ethan welling up in my body. The way he grated against my nerves was insane, and there were moments where I just wanted to smash his face in. He always acted like the top dog without ever putting any kind of action behind it, and it pissed me off. He was always butting heads with someone, and he was always trying to make sure his voice was heard above everyone else’s.

It was annoying as fuck.

But there was now a beautiful woman at my side; a grown woman we’d all come to know and love dearly. She’d grown even more lovely in the year she’d been gone, and now that I was out of the military, I finally felt like I had my shot. The military lifestyle wasn’t good enough for someone like Kyra. I bounced around a lot and wasn’t home much. I was deployed more times than I wanted to count and came back with new scars and tattoos every single time. I was fucked in the head more than I ever wanted to show her, but there was something about the light in her eyes that made me want to bed down next to her and soak up her warmth.

Her goodness.

Her exotic innocence.

I came back from the military and saw how she had grown into a wonderful, delectable treat. She had been a senior in high school, and I had made the decision to reenlist one last time, but seeing her with her beautiful, honey-blonde hair and the curves she filled out perfectly made me regret my decision. I spent the four years she was in college regretting ever having signed up, especially the moment she announced she was engaged.

But that fucker missed his chance, and I had plans to show Kyra exactly how he should’ve treated her.

I hated myself for having thoughts about her while she was so young. I punished myself in the military by doubling up on physical training just to get her barely-legal body out of my mind. I ran until I couldn’t run and lifted weights until my bones gave out. I stacked on muscle after muscle and trained until I couldn’t train anymore, and all the while, her beautiful curves and her innocent brown eyes haunted me at night.

But the moment she graduated high school and I visited home, I realized what true torture felt like.

All that summer, I had to ignore how fucking sexy she looked. I had to ignore the fact that she sunbathed in bikinis in her backyard. I had to ignore the crop tops she wore and the low-waisted jeans she bent over in. Every day we went to the swimming hole was a new and innovative torture I knew the military could never compete with.

Kyra had been too good for me then, and she sure as hell was too good for me now.

“You’re too good for him, you know,” I said.

“Why is everyone so intent on me talking about this?” she asked.

“Because we give a shit about you, unlike him.”

I saw her bow her head and sigh, and I quickly wrapped my arms around her and folded her into my body.

“Talk to me, Tinkerbell,” I said. “Tell me what happened.”

That was when I felt her snake her arms around my waist, and for a moment, I allowed myself to get lost in the touch of the woman who tortured me and haunted me for years.

“I just don’t wanna talk about it,” she said into my chest.

“Want me to still kick his ass?” I asked. “Because I’ll still kick his ass, even without a reason.”

She giggled into my chest, and I could’ve sworn I’d died on the battlefield and gone to heaven. Not that a man like me, who’d done the things I’d done, would ever get to those pearly gates, but I sure as hell was holding the closest thing to it in my arms.

“Thanks for always being there to fight my battles, Chance, but I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes,” I said, chuckling. “But you’re not just a big girl. You’re a big, beautiful girl.”