Page 114 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

“Families are weird,” she replied. “The people that love you the most in the world can be the ones that hurt you the deepest. They know where all your vulnerable spots are.”

I stood there just nodding, before I forced myself to smile and pull away.

“Your vulnerable spots are safe with me,” I assured her. “If my brother pisses you off, I know how to take him down.”

I cracked my knuckles theatrically and she laughed in response.

“Thanks for coming, and I look forward to seeing you at the party.” Nadia looked past me to where Brock stood. “With whichever guys you decide to bring. We don’t care who.” That was delivered with a little emphasis. “Just that you come.”

The engagement party had been a point of stress for me all week, but it was only now that I felt like I could take a full breath. Mum had more to say because she took a step towards me, but I saw just how smart Nadia was. Deidre had been deployed not just to embarrass me with wedding dresses, but to distract my mother. Nadia’s mother spoke to mine earnestly, forcing her to stop where she was or be rude to the mother of her son’s fiancé.

So I made my escape.

It was as if whatever coping mechanisms I’d been using all afternoon suddenly stopped working, and I almost ran for the door. Striding down the street didn’t help, not until my feet moved faster. I was dimly aware I’d left the dress behind, but the thought of going back for it made me feel slightly hysterical.

And so did he.

“Jamie.” Brock’s voice echoed down the street. “Jamie!”

When his hand landed on my wrist, my whole body tensed and my lips curled into a snarl when he turned me around, but right when I thought he’d snap at me, I saw something else. Molten gold eyes, soft and hot, right before he tugged me close. My hands landed on his chest, ready to push back, but there was no resisting Brock. He held me tight, the dress bag dangling from his grip as we just stood there.

“It’s alright.” His voice was low, rumbly, and soothing, despite the fact he was talking to me like I was a startled animal. “You’re alright.” My mind rejected that, rejected him trying to settle me, but right as I went to push away in earnest, he said something that stopped me cold. “You got through it and came out the other side in one piece.”

That was the kind of language people used when talking to the survivors of a terrible accident, not a girl who just walked out of a bridal boutique. I searched his face then, trying to work out what he meant. There was no judgement, no anger, no frustration in his eyes, just…

Understanding.

That had me wanting to step backwards, but his grip on me tightened. Just a little nod told me I wasn’t going anywhere, which forced me to sit with this.

There was a reason I always seemed to go out with deadshits. In my teens and early twenties, I’d been traumatised by my dickhead boyfriends’ infidelities and cruelties, but at some point I put two and two together. Their shitty behaviour was what I felt comfortable with. I’d had ‘nice’ guys try to chat me up, and each time I got the ick so bad I almost ran to get away from them. I wasn’t comfortable with men being kind or sweet towards me.

Until now.

The desire to get away from Brock was a knee-jerk one, a self-protective instinct that reasoned if I didn’t let anyone get close, I’d never get hurt again. When it became clear I couldn’t get free of him, I needed to search inside myself, see how badly I wanted to get away. I could’ve stamped on his feet with my steel capped boots, driven my knee into his nuts, and Brock would’ve been forced to let me go.

But I didn’t.

The thought of him doubled over and in agony because of something I’d done made me feel faintly nauseous.

And that’s when I realised.

I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted to snuggle in closer and rest my head on his shoulder, feel his strength holding me up, even as we stood on the concrete footpath out the front of some cafe. I wanted to cling to him like a goddamn spider monkey, so when he pulled me back against him, I let him, melting into his chest.

“How did you know?”

I don’t even know what I was asking, but he seemed to understand.

“I know you, Jamie.” That confidence in his voice was everything I needed. “I’ve always known you. I’ve been reading your moods, trying to read your mind, for so damn long. I’d never let you walk into the dragon’s den without backup, and I knew when you needed to get out. I was ready to pick you up and carry you out bodily if that’s what was required, though that would’ve been awkward if we didn’t pay for the dress.” His hand slid through my hair. “I’ll get you out of any situation that makes you feel uncomfortable, because all I want to do is protect you. Just let me do that.”

I was dimly aware of the sounds of the busy street, cars whizzing by, the occasional steps of pedestrians, but they were just background noise compared to this. My head tilted back, my eyes meeting his, and for a long moment we just gazed at each other.

“Then what do I want now, mind reader?” I asked.

A small smile and then he made a show of considering his answer.

“To get back to a place that feels safe to you. To pick up tools, get your hands dirty so you feel confident and strong.”

“Ohh…” I stepped back then, making a show of looking disappointed. “So you just want to get me back to work, huh?”

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