A Single Touch (Irresistible Attraction 3)

Seth’s watching her though. She’s fine. I’ve been telling myself that repeatedly since I left her. That, and that she’ll forgive me. That she just needs space.

She loves me. I remember that she told me she did once. The reminder doesn’t feel so truthful anymore.

“It’s unacceptable.” I say the words so he doesn’t have to. “What I did could have cost us everything.” All I can think about is Bethany, and all he can think about is the mistake I made. The first one in a long damn time.

“The fucking FBI is breathing down our necks and you do that?” Carter doesn’t hide the rage as he slams his fist down.

I don’t react. This is how he is and how I knew he’d be. He can scream all he wants. What’s done is done and his display of anger won’t change that.

I don’t say anything for the longest time, until finally, “I know,” is somehow spoken from my lips.

“What the fuck were you thinking, leaving like that? You drove in public while covered in blood. It would have taken a single phone call. We don’t flaunt this shit. It’s one fucking rule none of us has ever broken.” His chaotic breathing has lessened. The cords in his neck are no longer as tense.

In this moment, he reminds me so much of our father. Maybe because he’s focusing his rage at me for the first time that I can ever remember. “Everything we do is with reason and intention. Careful. Meticulous. We don’t leave evidence.” Every word is spoken calmer and more relaxed. He even sits back in his seat before running a hand down his face.

“What were you thinking?” he asks again.

“I don’t know.”

My answer is quick, as is his rebuttal. “Bullshit.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” he repeats and with his words, the sky darkens behind him. The night is settling in, as is his disbelief. My knuckles rap in synchrony on the wooden armrests of my chair as he looks at me, and I look at him.

“You always know what you’re doing. You’re always in control, yet you did it anyway.” His voice is calm, his composure returned. Tilting his chin up, he asks me, “Why? You had to have known she’d see and that you were risking everyone else seeing just so she could see.”

“I shouldn’t have-”

“But you did. You wanted her to see you, Jase. There’s no other explanation. You don’t fuck up like this. None of us fuck up like this.”

My brother’s words hang heavy in the air. Waiting for me to accept them.

“She doesn’t need to see what I do. What I’m capable of.”

“You wanted her to, though.”

“I won’t do it again,” is all I answer him, still not wanting to accept I’d do something so stupid and reckless. “I was emotional. I was caught up in the past.”

“You wanted her to see,” he repeats and I lift my gaze to his dark eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. It’ll never happen again.”

He looks like he wants to say something else. Like the words are just there, right on the tip of his tongue, toying with the idea of falling off.

The room is silent though. For a moment and then another.

“She doesn’t need to see that,” I tell him, content with that truth and then I crack my knuckles one at a time. “I won’t do it again.”

“She already knew, Jase.” I pin my gaze to my brother’s. “Even if she doesn’t admit it. She already knew.”

“Knew what?”

“What you were capable of. She knows what you do. She already knows. You’re right that you don’t need to show her. But you’re wrong to think she didn’t already know.”

With an open palm, my hand moves to the harsh stubble surrounding my mouth and then to my jaw.

“Some part of you wanted to know what she really thought of it all. Is that it?”

I ignore his question. “I scared her.”

“She should fear what you’re capable of. It’s new to her.” Carter leans forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the hard wood and it gets my attention as what he says registers.

“What do I do now?”

A flicker of a grin shows on Carter’s face. “Because I should know what to do when the woman I love fears me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying then?”

“I’m saying I fucked up, she’s scared, and I don’t want her to run.” My voice lowers of its own accord and a confession escapes as I say, “I can’t let her run.” With my head lowering, I think back to the way she looked at me before closing her front door. She looked back at me the way she did in the restaurant. Like it may be the last time.

“She’s not the only one afraid then, is she?”

“I’m asking for advice, Carter. It’s not something I care to do often,” I comment, hating the way something in my chest twists with agony.