Page 24 of Synced to Us

Brad’s light eyes catch mine over Wyn’s shoulder and his sculpted brows pop up before he says near Wyn’s ear, “Hot piece alert. I got this.”

He smacks Wyn on the bicep and darts forward. “Can I help you, miss? The taxi stand’s just over there, but it’s a small town. We’re friendly folk and could give you a ride.” He gifts me with a smarmy smile, and then motions to Wyn. “Don’t let this aged-out rocker dude scare you. He’s part of the average population now.”

Before responding, I sneak a peek at Wyn. The golden glow of streetlamp seems to miss all the hollows in his face, including under his eyes as he casts a stormy glare at his brother’s back.

Wait. Are these brothers close or not? The pendulum of their relationship makes me dizzy, and it’s only been a minute.

Despite my confusion, I laugh smoothly, putting my fingers on my collarbone just to show this Brad how theatrically amused I am at his backhanded insults. “Oh, you’re mistaken. I’m here with him.”

Brad jerks his chin back. “Who?”

“Wyn.” My voice is all liquid velvet. “My boyfriend.”

“Your…” Brad’s jaw drops. “What?”

Instead of responding, I smile demurely and walk around him, stopping when I reach Wyn and thread my fingers through his. Wyn’s musician callouses cause a zing of feeling in my palm, and I add that subtle thrill into my stare when I tip my chin up to Wyn, and say, “Silly man, didn’t you tell your family this was why we’re visiting them? Or did I ruin the surprise?”

Something in Wyn’s gaze shifts when he meets my eyes. I’ve donned the voice I used on a lot of my former regulars: sweet, husky, and full of dark promise. His arm muscles grow taut, and he hauls me against him until I’m somewhat of a possession in his hold. “That’s right, gorgeous. It was meant to be a surprise since Brad’s always been shit at keeping secrets. But, considering Ma’s a ten-minute drive away, we’re safe from him ruining it for her. Bro, meet Deonne Sparrow. Dee.”

Brad looks between us, a wide grin glued onto his face. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Ma will be stoked. Let’s get this show on the road.” Wyn lifts his arm from my shoulders and claps his hands together. “I’m starving.”

You still smell like onions from that bagel you loudly ate on top of my head—I stop myself just short of blurting the retort. I’m wearing a new guise now, his pristine girlfriend. That wobbly mess I turned into on the train doesn’t exist anymore.

“Of course, darling,” I say with a tilt to my lips. “I can’t wait to meet the rest of your family.”

Frown lines crowd the outer edges of Wyn’s stare as he refocuses on me. His brows furrow, but just as quickly, his forehead smooths and he squeezes me on the shoulder. He then opens the passenger door and steps aside.

“I’m still processing this turn of events. You.” Brad points at me. “And you.” Then to his brother again. “Together.” He laughs out loud, having to grab his belly to keep himself upright. “Holy shit, Lucy’s gonna lose her mind. Wyn never got the pretty girls in high school. Yeah, when he was famous for a sec he got all those hot nightclub girls, but the real guy? He was usually too stoned or too busy mooning over the cheerleaders he never stood a chance with—”

“Get in the car, Brad,” Wyn growls. “Or do you want me to drive over you while you continue to amuse yourself on the curb?”

Jesus. Brad’s digs are relentless. I’m amazed Wyn’s maintaining this level of calm. If he were my brother, I’d clap right back with a pointed insult.

My smile stays in place, but my words break character—just for a moment. “Cheerleaders used to leave rotten food in my locker, until I left live rats in theirs.”

Wyn raises his brows in surprise.

Brad blinks, mumbling as he rounds the pickup and slips in the driver’s seat, “Lucy was the head cheerleader.”

I work my jaw while staring at the ground as Wyn takes first one bag, then the other, and tosses them into the flatbed. I feel like I took it too far—the creepy survivalist girl in high school isn’t the type of past Wyn wants to introduce to his mother, but this brother of his is getting to me.

“Hey.” Wyn’s low voice tickles my ear. His large hand encircles my entire bicep through my stained coat and squeezes. “That was fucking awesome.”

Wyn’s breath leaves prickles of heat to travel down my neck and dissipate along my shoulders. I shiver.

“You cold?” Wyn’s already sliding out of his bomber jacket. “That thing still wet? I got you. Here.”

“No—I’m fine. Really.”

But Wyn’s already in the midst of peeling off my sodden coat. I don’t want to make a scene, so I let him. He replaces it with his warm jacket on my shoulders, shoving my ruined one in between my luggage. I can’t even be annoyed at his treatment of cashmere, because the light scent of his cologne tantalizes my nose as he settles the jacket around my nape. It’s not the same as having the weight of his arm around me, but welcome nevertheless. Usually, I’d shy away from such a claim of possession, even if it’s as light of a statement as a coat, but I find myself nestling deeper and enjoying his indirect warmth.

My eyelids flare the tiniest fraction at the realization. Uh oh.

While sliding my hair out from under the collar, I look up in time to catch Brad’s narrowed gaze through the rearview mirror.

“Let’s get this next part over with,” Wyn mutters beside me, unaware of his brother’s intense focus. “Meeting my ma.”

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