Page 103 of Soulless Saint

It was weird, realizing the implication, as if I was saying our Dad’s orders. How messed up was that?

“Hey, babe,” Toby called from down the line as he chopped a banana and filled a blender with the chunks. “You need me to take over the counter?”

Becca’s red-veined eyes fell from mine, and she backed away another few feet. “Yeah. Please.”

“Look, can we talk?” I tried again. “Please. Just five minutes.”

She shook her head, her hand pressed to her stomach twisting in her apron now.

Why did she look so sick? Why didn’t she want to talk to me? It wasn’t my fault Dad decided to hide the fact that he may or may not have another kid running around out there in the world. That was his problem. One he was going to have to sort out with Mom, who’d made him sleep on the couch last night.

If it weren’t for the Sons on the prowl, I was pretty sure she’d have kicked his ass out, burned all his shit on the lawn and keyed his truck too for keeping something so big from her.

Toby raced past Becca, getting all up in my face. “I don’t know what the fuck you did, Kaleb, but you leave her alone, okay? If she says she doesn’t want to talk to you, then she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Brave words.

Even if my fists were clenching, ready to pummel the audacity out of Toby, I also kind of admired his willingness to quite literally put his life on the line to stick up for her. I didn’t care what anybody said, Toby was okay in my books.

“Okay,” I quipped, jumping the counter to shove past Toby. He made a grab for my arm, and I jerked to a stop, staring between his hands on my arm and his face. “Respectfully, Toby, if you don’t remove your hands, I’ll remove them for you and you won’t like my methods.”

He released me as if shocked. “Good choice.”

“Kaleb, please,” Becca said, her expression and posture betraying utter defeat. “Just go. You’re going to get me fired.”

“Nope,” I argued. No one would dare fire her. Not if they wanted to still be breathing when it came time to collect the insurance money after this place burned to the ground.

I scooped her up before she could protest, throwing her over my shoulder as I pushed through the little flap in the counter.

The few customers still hanging around this late in the afternoon pretended not to notice as I hauled her through the entire place, down the long channel of cozy little nooks to the one in the very back.

The one that would give us at least the guise of privacy.

Becca didn’t fight me at all, which honestly kind of fucking freaked me out. Where was my vixen? I swear I could break Dad’s nose for just dropping that fucking bomb on her like that.

I set her down gently on the floor between the curved antique sofa and the oval coffee table in front of it. She didn’t sit though, she just stood there, her jaw clenched almost as tightly as her fists at her sides.

I hated seeing her like this.

“Vixen,” I whispered, reaching for her hand. “Talk to me.”

She ripped her hand away before I could touch her. “Don’t call me that.”

She shuddered as if my touch revolted her and what the actual fuck?

I understood us not being her favorite people right now, but she couldn’t deny this… whatever this was between us. There was no way she didn’t feel it, too. This ran far deeper than any surface level attraction. And you know what? Even if she did like my brother, too, I could get over that. I could get used to it.

Whatever she wanted if she’d just stop looking at me like I kicked her fucking dog.

“Talk to me,” I repeated, hating the itchy feeling crawling up my spine, gnawing at the back of my mind, whispering that this was always going to happen. Using a voice I thought I’d banished from my subconscious years ago.

You’re not good enough.

You’re weak.

A scared little shit.

Useless.

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