Holding Her Hand (The Reed Brothers 9)

“Wren,” I say. “What happened?”

She looks at Ryan and then at me, and then she stomps toward her room and slams her door.

“Is she okay?” Ryan asks. “Or do I need to go kick someone’s ass?” He looks down at me, his brow marred with worry.

It makes my heart expand two sizes to know that he would take care of one of my sisters, even though he doesn’t know her.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” I tell him. “I had better go see what’s wrong.”

“We didn’t finish the movie.” He tucks a lock of hair that has fallen down behind my ear.

“I know.”

“We didn’t finish a lot of things.” He grins.

A smile tugs at my lips as heat suffuses my face. “I know.”

He pulls me to him and I press my forehead against his chest, taking a moment to breathe him in. He smells like detergent and pure, unadulterated man.

Ryan squeezes my shoulders and then runs his cupped hands down my arms. Then he surprises the hell out of me when he lifts my arm and presses a kiss against the scars on my inner wrist. I try to pull out of his grasp, but he holds tight, his eyes meeting mine as his lips linger. He breathes me in, his warm mouth pressed against my skin.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says.

“I did too.”

He takes in a deep breath, almost like he’s fortifying himself, and then he says, “My mother’s birthday is this weekend. We’re having a party. I’d like for you to come with me.”

I jerk my head back, completely shocked by his request. “You want me to meet your mother?”

He nods, and I can tell he’s nervous by the way his eyes jerk around my face. “I’d like for you to meet my whole family.”

“Why?” I look into his eyes, hoping I’ll find the truth there.

“Because I like you a lot, and I want you to meet my mom and dad, and the rest of my family. If you want to, that is. Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” I say tentatively.

“Are you sure?” He bends down to look into my eyes.

“I’m sure. Thank you for the invitation.” I smile at him, and heat floods my face again.

“You take my breath away on a normal day, but when your cheeks turn pink, I feel like you’ll never give the breath back.” He laughs.

“I get points for blushing?” I ask.

“You get points for everything.”

Suddenly, something breaks in Wren’s room and I hear glass shatter. “I had better go check on her.”

He nods, and then he bends and presses a kiss to my cheek. He lingers there a moment like he’s breathing me in. And I don’t want to let him go.

He leaves, and then I look toward my kitchen counter and see that he left his baseball cap. I smile and start plotting in my head what I can do with it next that might give me an excuse to see him before my appointment on Saturday to work on the tattoo.

Ideas are running through my head when Wren’s door flies open and she steps into the living room. “Is he gone?” she asks.

“Yes. Why?”

She tosses a white cylinder on the counter. I look down and see a small plus sign in the window. “Oh,” I breathe. I look up and find her blinking back tears. “Wren,” I say softly, and I approach her like she’s a wounded animal, because that’s essentially what she is right now. She’s scared. And she’s fighting it.