Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

Cross’s crystal blue eyes dropped to the bottle of champagne in his hand, then to the empty doorway, then to me. “Happy Valentine’s Day?”

I blew out a tight breath, a strained laugh rushing from my lips.

He motioned to where Cormac had just exited. “Seems like I’m always interrupting you two,” he said, striding across the room to lean against the couch I hadn’t been able to move away from.

I was frozen to the spot, my mind replaying the look of betrayal in Cormac’s eyes over and over again. Like I’d planned for my brother to show up. Like I’d tried to force Cormac into the same damn situation for some twisted reason.

“That’s my favorite,” I said, my voice cracking as I took the champagne bottle Cross handed me. “Thank you.”

He smoothed out his immaculate royal blue suit jacket and shrugged. “I thought you were alone for Valentine’s Day,” he said, flashing me an apologetic look. “If you would’ve texted me you had…plans, I wouldn’t have come.”

I studied the bottle in my hand a little too hard before crossing the room to set it on my desk. “It wasn’t planned.”

But holy hell, it was hot.

Cormac’s mouth on mine, his hands, his fingers.

“Is it ever with you two?” Cross laughed as he came to lean against my desk next to me. I nudged him with my elbow.

“Not. Funny.” But I did laugh because seriously, what were the odds Cross shows up at the exact wrong time.

Cross cleared his throat, absentmindedly rubbing at the neatly trimmed beard framing his strong jaw. “I’m sorry, Bristol,” he said. “About what happened all those years ago,” he said. “You know that, right?”

I nodded. “Of course, I do,” I said. “You’ve apologized a dozen times.”

His shoulders loosened next to me.

“But Cormac doesn’t,” I added, the pain in my chest tight. Hot and cold, cold and hot. Fight, kiss, fight, leave. I wasn’t sure how much more of the painful back and forth I could take. I was trying. Really, truly trying to show Cormac that I wasn’t a spoiled, conniving rich girl with an agenda, but he was too stubborn to see the truth.

“Do you want me to speak with him?” Cross asked, and I gaped at him. He shrugged. “I can bury my pride if it makes my baby sister happy.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “While I appreciate that, I don’t think he’d give you the time of day. Besides, he’s more upset with me than anyone.”

Cross furrowed his brow, looking so much like our father at that moment, another wave of pain crashed into my chest. I swallowed hard, trying to hide the emotions threatening to suffocate me, but Cross saw it.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined so many things for you, sis,” he said, resting his chin on the top of my head.

I shook my head against him. “You haven’t.”

“I have,” he argued. “First, with my overreaction to what happened at that party. I should’ve listened to you. Should’ve calmly analyzed the situation, but you know I have an issue with…react first, think later.”

“It’s okay, really, Cross. I’ve grown up. I’ve…made my peace with it.” Sort of the truth. While the pain still stung of what happened that night, it didn’t compare to the last few weeks. Me trying my best at every turn to make amends and constantly getting shut down...unless words weren’t on the table. If it was just his mouth on mine...

“But that wasn’t the only thing,” he continued, cutting into my thoughts as he still held me close. “After our parents died, I was really hard on you. I pushed you because I was terrified of losing you, of the world eating you up and spitting you out.”

I laughed again. “I know,” I said because I really did understand. We’d gone to family counseling together back then. It was how we’d come to have the strong relationship we did now. “Cross, I know,” I said. “I’m here today because of you, so stop torturing yourself over the past. We have great lives now.”

He nodded against my head, but I could feel the tension in his muscles. I shifted out of his embrace, glancing up at him.

“Why aren’t you out with one of your regulars?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

It was his turn to laugh. “On Valentine’s Day?” He shook his head. “I’ll never be caught dead taking a date out on the most romantic day of the year.”

I pursed my lips at him.

“What?” he asked innocently. “A date on tonight of all nights gives women ideas,” he explained. “And you know I’m upfront with everyone I—”

“Don’t say it,” I said, laughing as I held a hand up. “The last thing I need to hear about is your sexual escapades around the city.”