Wrapped in Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 4)

I glare hard. “Like I’m what?”

His jaw twitches. “Never mind.”

“Like I’m easy? Like I’m a slut?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” he says tightly.

“You’re an asshole.” I climb out of the car and race to the house, all too aware of Brayden following me. I unlock the front door and push inside as fast as my limited coordination will allow.

Before I can close the door behind me, Brayden stops it with one big hand. “Molly.”

I lift my eyes to his, studying his face in the porch light. “Noah is at my mom’s.”

He nods slowly, studying my face but not saying a thing. He’s so damn stingy with his words, and it drives me insane.

“I wouldn’t have had more than a drink if he weren’t somewhere safe for the night. I’m a lot of things, Brayden, but I’m not a bad mom.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You implied it.” I close my eyes, nausea rolling over me. My living room is littered with boxes ready for tomorrow’s move, and I don’t even know if Brayden wants me to move in with him anymore. I take a breath. “I’m sorry if I screwed something up with Jason. I’ll talk to him. I’ll fix it somehow.”

Brayden bristles. “I don’t know if I want you talking to him alone.” He stares at me, looking me over again and again, as if he expects to see injuries. “Tonight . . . it looked bad.”

“I know, but he didn’t do anything wrong. I was fine, and then suddenly I wasn’t and I just needed to get away.” I fold my arms, imagining how it looked from Brayden’s point of view: me scrambling out of the car with my dress around my waist, sobbing. “It was a bad day.”

“Are you okay now?”

No. I’m not okay. Because Brayden’s right. I’m broken, and there’s no fixing me. I’m a shattered bone that was allowed to heal without ever being set. “I’m fine.”

I see the word in his eyes: liar. But he doesn’t say it. Instead, I get a single nod. A final once-over, as if he still doesn’t believe I wasn’t assaulted. “Good night.”

“Good night.” And I’m proud of myself, because I manage to lock the door and make it to my bedroom before my tears return.

I wake up to someone pounding on the door, and bury my face in the pillow.

Moments from last night flash in my mind. The shots. The pity on Brayden’s face. The guy . . .

I roll over in bed and press my hand to my forehead, and I remember Brayden driving me home, the twitch in his jaw, the anger blazing in his eyes. His rage was so much better than the pity I saw in his eyes when he said good night.

The pounding continues, and I force my eyes open to look at the clock. Eight a.m. Who the hell is at my door at eight a.m. on a Sunday— Shit! I’m supposed to move in with Brayden today.

I climb out of bed, race to the door, and yank it open.

Carter Jackson’s standing on my front porch, and he blinks at me before turning around and putting a hand over his eyes. “We’ll wait here while you get dressed,” he says, discomfort evident in every word.

I look down and wince. A T-shirt I don’t remember changing into and a pair of boy-cut panties. Could have definitely been worse, but if I’d given half a thought to my appearance before rushing to the door, I’d have at least pulled on some pants.

On the sidewalk beyond Carter, Brayden scowls and runs his eyes over me in a way that is one hundred percent disapproving and zero percent sexual. Figures.

“Come on in.” I pull the door wider. “I’ll be right back.” I want to rush to my room and hide, but pride makes me keep my head high and sway my hips as I walk away.

Once I reach the privacy of my room, I shut the door behind me and change quickly, trying to ignore the relentless pounding in my head that begs me to send them away and crawl back in bed. I was the idiot who got drunk last night. Now I get to pay for it by feeling like death on moving day. Frankly, it’s not punishment enough if I truly screwed up Brayden’s relationship with a potential investor.

I drag a hand over my face. I need to talk to Jason tomorrow. I’ll have to get his information somehow, since I doubt Brayden’s going to hand it over. I need to apologize for what happened. Explain that I didn’t dart out of his car because of him but because I panicked.

Once I’m dressed in a pair of leggings and a loose-fitting long-sleeve T-shirt, I brush my teeth and hair then wander out to the kitchen. Apparently, more Jacksons arrived while I was dressing. Now, in addition to Brayden and Carter, Levi, Shay, Jake, and Ethan stand in my kitchen. At least they didn’t all see my panties.