Beast Brothers

Back downstairs, I step out onto the front porch and hurl his bag in the direction of his car.

Returning to the reception, I walk at a calm pace. I unclench my jaw and paste a smile on my face as I approach my lying, cheating, never-again boyfriend.

Clay looks surprised to see me. "Back so soon, babe?"

"Yeah, babe." I'm sure I sound extremely sarcastic, but he doesn't seem to notice. "I need your help with something. Can you follow me?"

I watch him get up. He does that annoying thing where he pushes the front of his hair up and then sweeps it to the side, checking to make sure it’s all still neatly in place. It’s so vain and and I can't figure out what I ever saw in him.

I lead him to the front of the house and turn on him as soon as we're out of everyone's view.

My eyes are narrowed and my voice is cold. "I need you to leave right now, and I never want to see you again. Your bag is over there—" I gesture to it, and am tickled to notice that it also is lying in mud. "And here's your fucking phone." I jab the device into his chest and then I turn and leave. He starts to speak but I interrupt him. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Ever." I yell this at him as I walk away without a backward glance.

Chapter 16

I'm proud of myself for holding it together long enough to kick Clay to the curb, but as I watch his car pull out of the driveway, I break down. I go back upstairs to the guest bedroom, thankful for the privacy of the quiet house, and I sob until my head hurts.

I'm not upset that he's gone. At the moment, I can't imagine missing a single thing about him, but I'm wrecked by the realization of how stupid I've been. I saw him at the bar a month ago — with "N." apparently — and I let the asshole sweet talk me into thinking my suspicions were my problem. He made me think I had trust issues, when in reality, I was too damn trusting! He manipulated me, and I let him.

I think about him spanking her, and I feel so disgusted I could spit. I get up and start pacing the small room, when there's a knock at the door.

"Kate? Are you okay?" It's Billy.

I try to make my voice even. "I'm fine."

There is a long pause, then he says, "That's clearly not true." His voice is low and sounds muffled, as if he's leaning in close to the door.

"Are you alone?" he asks.

"Yes. I'll be out soon, Billy."

There is silence outside the door. I bring my thoughts back to the wedding, and then think about what my face must look like after all the crying. I'm hopeful that a cold washcloth and a full makeup reapplication will set things straight.

I wait a few more minutes in my room, hoping that Billy has gone away quietly, but I know that's not going to be the case. I find him leaning against the wall opposite my bedroom door. He jerks to attention when he sees me.

"What happened?"

"Oh, I just finally wised up, that’s all. About a month too late," I say. I try to smile, but it doesn't quite happen.

"What did he do?" Billy’s jaw is clenched. He sounds murderous.

"He didn't do anything today, but apparently he's been doing someone named Nikki for who knows how long." I manage a bitter laugh. Something about Billy's presence and his clear concern for me is comforting.

“I’ve been wondering what you were still doing with him," Billy says, his voice softer now.

"I know. I was an idiot. He told me a story and I believed it."

He steps forward, puts an arm around me and pulls me close. "That does not make you an idiot."

I lean into his embrace for a moment, breathing in his scent and relishing his comforting warmth, but then I gently push away from him, aware of the fact that I sought comfort in his arms the first time I found out Clay was betraying me, and that didn't turn out so well. "I need to clean up and get back out there," I say.

"Okay, let me know if you want to talk later," he says.

"Thanks." I start for the bathroom but then stop and turn back to him. "I just remembered. I rode here in Clay's car. I don't have a way home."

"That's not a problem. I'll take you."

"Are you sure?" When he nods, I continue, "Thank you. I'd really appreciate that. I don't want to tell my mom what happened yet. I don't want to worry her today."

I tell my mom that Clay had a weekend work emergency, and I make up a story about allergies to explain the puffiness that remains on my face. I’m not sure she buys my story, but she doesn’t push for details. I’ll correct my white lies when she and George return from their honeymoon.

The reception continues without any problems despite the windy day, and I even manage to enjoy myself. Any time thoughts of Clay arise, I focus on the relief I feel that I'm through with him. I realize how much I’d been forcing myself to be with him because he seemed right for me on paper. And because, I will admit, that I enjoyed having someone there that I could rely on. Or so I thought. Anyway, he can't hurt me again. I won't let him.

In what seems like no time, the sun starts to sink in the sky and guests begin to leave. The caterers and the musicians pack up, and soon it's just Billy, Tommy, and I, and a few close relatives gathered to say goodbye to the bride and groom, who are headed to a hotel for the night, and then they’ll be off to Hawaii in the morning.

After they leave, Billy tells me that he's made arrangements for his aunt and uncle to stay with Tommy while he drives me home. I change into comfortable clothes, pack up my things, and find Billy downstairs. He's changed into jeans and flannel, and as good as he looked in his wedding finery, I find I like him even better in his everyday clothes.

He leads me out to his truck, which triggers a flashback to our night in the parking lot. This time I'm climbing inside the cab — not an easy task — and when I'm perched inside, I feel like a kindergartner in a giant school bus. Billy slides in behind the wheel, and puts the key in the ignition. He seems to hesitate, turning towards me as though he has something to say. But then he seems to stop himself. I jump as he starts the truck’s noisy engine and then we're city-bound.

"You doing okay?" he asks, when we're just a few miles into the trip.

"I've been better, but I've been worse,” I admit.

After a minute of silence, Billy asks, "You want music?"

"Whatever you want."

He turns on the radio and country music fills the cab. It's not my favorite, but it's not unpleasant. He turns the volume down so it's more like background music.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this," Billy says. "I'm sure he must have had some good qualities, because I know you're a smart woman, but Clay was a jerk and you are better off without him." There is anger in his voice that makes my heart flutter. His comments seem tinged with something more than just a simple statement of fact. That he is angry on my behalf makes me smile.

"I don't mind you saying that. He was definitely a jerk." Billy smiles back, but still wears a concerned expression. "We don't have to talk about him. I'll be fine,” I say.

Aside from the twangy descriptions of heartbreak coming out of the speakers, we ride in silence for several miles. I shift somewhat uncomfortably when we pass the bar where we'd met, and I'm grateful when Billy doesn't acknowledge the place.

After we merge onto the highway he says, "The wedding went really well. You and your mom did a great job planning it."

"Thanks. That's my job. Not weddings, but big events."

"That's what Rebecca told me. What's that like?"

We talk for a while about my work at the museum, and about the types of events I arrange. Then talk shifts to Billy's work and his current living situation, which is part time at George's, and part time with a friend of Billy's in town. I'm curious about what his plans are for the future, but I don't want to let on that my mom and I have talked about him. I just let him tell me what he chooses to, and by the time we reach city limits, I realize that he's mostly asked questions and let me do all the talking while he's been a good listener.

I direct him through the highway interchanges and surface str

eets until we arrive at my building.

"You can drop me off out front," I say.

He arches a brow. "Did you forget that I’m a gentleman? I’ll escort you to your apartment."

It occurs to me that having him come inside might not be a good idea, but I'm oddly flattered by his insistence. There had been nights when Clay dropped me off out front and drove away before I was in the door. It's nice to be accompanied by a man with manners and courtesy for a change, even if that man is, as of today, officially my stepbrother.

Chapter 17

Billy looks so out of place in the elevator. I typically share the space with women in dresses and men in suits. Even on a weekend, his jeans, flannel and boots make him stand out.

We ascend to the twelfth floor and as we walk down the hall to my unit, I realize how rude it would've been for me to send Billy off without inviting him in to rest for a while after the long drive.