Page 19 of Into the Woods

Ash was the neurotic one—the guy who would stay up for three days straight when he went into his manic, hyper-focused state of obsession.

Ryan was brutally efficient. The preppy, pretty boy looks hid a mind that worked, at times, like a serial killer. He used charm and charisma like swords.

I was the silent one. The one always lurking in the background, the one who was constantly trying to prove himself to the whole damn world. As a kid, finding out my dad had an entire other family had rocked me, and he’d constantly let me know that I wasn’t as strong as Royal, as smart as Rook, or as committed as Bishop. And while I’d played the part of the carefree playboy, I was man enough to admit that it left me with a constant drive to show the world how useful I was.

And Linc… The ones with the biggest smiles always hid the darkest secrets. He was my best friend. I’d take a bullet for him without question, but there was a side of him that scared even me. He hid it well from us. Sometimes even from himself. But I’d seen it seep out, and we all knew that he was one push away from going full-on dark side.

For tonight, it seemed that Linc was just Linc. The guy who cared too much and was always there for me.

I punched his arm, abandoning my plans to order pizza and binge watch a TV show I’d seen a dozen times already. “I figured I should give you a shot at getting laid.”

He laughed, tipping his head back. “Fuck you, dude. If you think I need your help with women, you’re still drunk.” His shoulder nudged mine. “Not that I haven’t missed your occasional assist.”

I was unable to stop the knowing grin that spread across my lips. Linc and I had always been close, so much so that it wasn’t uncommon for us to share a woman for a night of debauchery. We hadn’t done it in months. Not since she’d blown back into my life.

It was weird. Like my timeline had been divided into multiple chunks: before Becca and after Becca.

“Actually,” Linc drawled, absently scratching his chest, “if you want to go find—”

“No.” I shut that shit down hard. I’d avoided booze and pussy for four days, and it was a little sad how proud I was of that streak.

He sighed. “Just as well. It’s hard, wanting a fast-food burger after you’ve been tempted by wagyu.”

I frowned. “Huh? What does that even mean?”

His lips curved into a smirk. “Just that if my dick has one regret in life, it’s that Bex got pissed and left before—”

I was on my feet and looming over my oldest, closest friend before I realized what I’d done. “Before what?”

Linc raised his hands, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Oh, did I say something wrong? You don’t like the idea of me pinning sweet little Bex to my bed and—”

My fist slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

It was only the fact that I loved him like one of my brothers that had me taking a step back and not putting his ass in the local ER.

Linc stretched his jaw, carefully rubbing the already forming bruise. “Fucking finally.”

“What the shit’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. My skin felt too tight over my muscles, stretched past the point of normal. Maybe I had some latent Hulk superpower, but I had a whole new appreciation for why Bruce Banner ripped through his clothes whenever he got pissed off.

Linc rose to his feet, the movement almost lazy. He hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “It means you’ve been living like a goddamn war widow for the last four weeks. I’m sick of your mopey ass.”

I jerked back like he’d punched me. “Excuse me?”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he retorted, eyes flashing. “You’re my best fucking friend, Court, and that’s the only reason I let this shit go on as long as I have. I get it—you lost the girl of your goddamn dreams.”

I reared back. “No, I—”

“Jesus, man.” He shot me a disgusted look. “Stop lying to yourself. No one has ever twisted you up the way little Rebecca Whittier has. Problem is, she isn’t so little anymore. If she was any other girl and you were any other guy, I’d have made a move on her months ago.”

Fuck me. I was going to have to kill my best friend. I’d need help burying the body, but the only guys I could ask to help were Ash and Ryan… and odds were they’d kill me for killing him.

I could try waiting until Royal and Rook came back. Or I could call Bishop, but that had its own problems. Knight was busy, too.

“Hell, I would’ve even shared her with you—”

I lunged for him, and he spun away too fast.

“Fuck, bro! Let me finish!” He leapt over the back of the couch, putting it between us. “I knew a menage or whatever wasn’t in the cards the night you carried her ass out of the frat house.”

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