Page 45 of Drift
I swallowed hard, my throat burning. “I’m fine, Jaxton.”
“Doesn’t look that way.”
“Outside,” Chance growled, jerking his chin toward the door.
Kane’s gaze shifted between the two men before he wrapped his hand around my brother’s bicep. “He’s right. We’re not doing this in here.”
A muscle jumped in Jaxton’s jaw, and he gave a jerky nod.
Chance reached behind him, his fingers brushing mine in a wordless reassurance before he instructed, “Stay in here, Alanna.”
Something in his voice made me obey. I stayed where I was as he followed Kane and Jaxton out the door.
But it didn’t take long for me to decide that I couldn’t just stand there and listen from the safety of the house. The door hadn’t even closed before I was moving.
By the time I reached the porch, Chance stood a few feet from my brother, the two of them locked in a standoff with both refusing to yield.
He didn’t flinch when Jaxton got in his face, and I knew it was only his loyalty that held Chance back. And he didn’t back down even when my brother’s hands curled into fists. He just stood there, solid and unmovable, protecting me even when it meant standing against his best friend.
And that realization hit me harder than any shouted word could’ve.
“Jaxton, stop!” My voice came out sharper than I expected.
All three of them turned at once.
My brother’s gaze dropped to the shirt I was wearing. Chance’s shirt.
His expression shifted from furious to murderous in a single heartbeat.
He took a step toward me, his expression tight. “Alanna.”
Before he could say more, Chance moved—a deliberate step in front of me, his arm half extended like a shield. “Go back inside, Alanna.”
“No.” My pulse hammered so loudly, I could hear it in my ears. “I’m not hiding while you two?—”
“Please.”
That one word broke something in me. It wasn’t an order or a demand. It was a plea. His voice cracked, the sound carrying more weight than any fight could.
My throat ached as I nodded and stepped back toward the door.
When it closed behind me, the last thing I saw through the glass was Chance—his shoulders squared and head high, facing down my brother like a man ready to fight for more than just his life.
17
DRIFT
The door clicked shut behind Alanna, sealing her inside before the storm outside broke loose. I stepped off the porch, the boards creaking under my feet, and Jax’s fist slammed into my jaw.
The hit snapped my head to the side, and I tasted copper instantly. It rolled over my tongue, sharp and metallic. I didn’t move for a second—just let the shock of it settle, my jaw tight and my eyes fixed on the man who’d thrown the punch.
The air between us pulsed with fury, heavy as the humidity rolling off the ocean.
Jax’s chest heaved under his black tee, his shoulders squared and muscles rigid. His expression was fury carved in stone—eyes narrowed and teeth bared. The veins in his neck stood out like cords under his skin. He looked like a man seconds away from breaking every rule he’d ever lived by.
Kane stood a few feet away, leaning against one of the porch posts, his arms crossed, watching like a man who’d seen this play out too many times. He wasn’t smiling. But he wasn’t stopping the fight either. He knew we needed to burn some of this off before either of us would be able to think straight again. Hisstance was relaxed in that deceptively calm way that meant he was ready to intervene if this went nuclear.
I dragged my thumb across my mouth, smearing the thin line of blood from my lip. My voice came out low and even. “Feel better?”
