Page 20 of Brazen Mistakes

“I opened it early this morning. But it showed up on the porch yesterday while I was out for a run. And the photo, it’s from the night before Jansen and RJ went home.”

“You should have called.”

“You didn’t need anything else on your plate. This isn’t urgent. The photo was taken outside, not inside. RJ upgraded our security. The only time I left the house today was while I was video chatting with RJ, and it was just to pull in a package from the porch. And let’s be honest here, Trips. Wehavedealt with worse. The fucker couldn’t even come up with an original insult.”

His burst of laughter surprises both of us, I think, as his eyes get big when the sound leaves his mouth. “Fuck, Clara. That’s the part that makes you mad?”

Swallowing a mouthful of yogurt, I shake my head. “The whole thing pisses me off. But really? Whore? The idiot gets one tiny hint of what I’ve been up to, and he passes some moralistic bullshit on what was a wonderful night between consenting adults? Shame on him. At least, I assume it’s a him.”

“It’s almost always a him. Have you heard from Bryce?”

“I thought he was in jail.”

“He’s supposed to be. I’ll message RJ. He’s got access to all that stuff.”

I stare down at my yogurt, my hunger fading. “Can it wait until after Christmas? I don’t want to pull him away from his family.”

“You know he’d gladly be pulled away for you.”

“Please?”

I glance back at Trips, and he’s shaking his head, eyelids drooping. After a second, he shoves the card and photo away from him, once again cradling his head in his hands. “Fine. But I think we’re going to have to get the guys back early. The shit I found out? It’s big. And a mess.” He looks up at me, and if it made any logical sense after those words, I’d say he pities me.

What happened at his house that would make him pityme?

Chapter 8

Walker

The house is silent when I sneak in through the back door. One glance into Clara’s room has my damn fool heart clenching in my chest.

Her dark hair spreads across her pillow, those black lashes smudges against her cheeks in the faded light from her abandoned laptop.

If only Trips’ broad frame wasn’t blocking my view, I’d feel nothing but joy. But a twinge of jealousy spirals out from my gut seeing them together. All that man has done is pull Clara in, only to push her away again. His reasons might be legitimate, but still. Any tears she sheds over the fool makes me want to punch him in his fucking nose.

He’d block me. But the urge stands.

A sad whimper falls from Clara’s lips, and her legs thrash under the sheets. I drop my bag, unzipping and stripping out of my winter coat.

Before I can kick off my shoes, Trips snags Clara and presses her tight against his chest. Her whimpers cease, and she stills.

I toe off my shoes and inch around the bed, removing more layers as I go, closing and stashing her laptop on her desk. Then I slip in behind Clara in my boxers and t-shirt. Burrowing my nose in her hair, I shed the last of my lingering stress. This is home now. Wherever she is.

Blinking through the near-dark, I try to catch Trips’ eye and let him know he can head back upstairs. There’s no way he’s asleep.

He hardly sleeps on a good night in his own bed. There’s what amounts to a ritual of scents and sounds, of particular thread counts and colors, all these elaborate steps he has to follow to get at least six hours a night. But the longer I stare at him, the more obvious it is that he’s as out as Clara is.

Damn.

The jealousy still hums. The need to protect Clara from Trips playing hot and cold with her heart burns.

But she forgave me for the same shit. Different cause, but the same actions.

So, I have to trust her to figure out how she wants to deal with Trips. Even if there’s a good chance he’ll never be what she wishes he would be.

Even if he needs her in the same way I do. The way we all do.

Because as much as my problems got between us, they were mostly in my head.

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