Page 37 of Ensnared

“Ididn’t break us,Dom.”Ismile at him, a little bitterly. “Youdid.”

Hiseyes flinch shut, and his head drops back against the tree. “Iknow.”

Thewords float between us, like a musty old secret freed to fresh air.Justhearing him acknowledge it, finally, soothes some of the sullen ache in my gut.Butit also births a new pain.Becausehe thinks it too.We’rebroken, riddled with wounds, and we have been for three years.

“Maybe,”Istart, then stop, trying to find the right words. “Maybewe shouldn’t have left those holes to fester.Maybewe should find someone to help us heal them.We’vealways been better with a third.”

“Ormaybe we should fix ourselves first before we try to involve anyone else.”Dom’svoice is full of rebuke. “Iwon’t do it,Beau.Evenif we were ready for that, the girl isn’t right for us—she’s too timid.She’llbe gone in a week.”

Edenmelts through my memories—her chin lift, her clever, quiet regard—andIgiveDoma grave look. “You’rewrong about her.Andif you wait too long, she’ll move on before you realize exactly how wrong you are.”

Hismouth curls up in a half smile, his eyes full of phantoms. “Theyalways move on,Beau.That’swhyIneed you.”

Myeyes travel over his face, hurting for his pain. “Youalways have me,Dom.Always.”

Heswallows hard, and ducks his head to examine his compass for a beat too long.

Myown throat feels a little thick, andIstand.Ioffer him my hand, and he stares at it before he takes it.Ipull him to his feet, and then into a tight hug.Hesqueezes me back, pressing his face into my shoulder, and it’s like he’s squeezing my heart through my chest.

Imiss my friend.Idon’t want to abandonThePlan.

Whenhe has himself together, he steps back and nods in the direction of town.

Ifollow him... and start my plotting.

Ineed to figure out how to make the asshole fall forEden.Whateverhe thinks, weneeda third.Someonesmart, someone kind—someone who can soothe over the scar tissue that’s forming between us.

WeneedEden.

ButIhave to getDomon board, because no matter what he’s afraid of,Icould never chooseanyoneover our friendship.

Chapter10

Eden

Survivaltip #166

Don’tupset large predators.

Watch, listen, and learn... and maybe they won’t eat you alive.

Thenext week passes quickly, andIhave the days more or less to myself.DomandBeauheaded out the day afterIarrived to collect some essentials, andLuckyseems to spend most of his time hunting.Oneday, he even came back grinning as he dragged a 120-pound deer carcass behind him and into the stinky meat shedItry to avoid.Jaykobhas been hiding out in his workshop in the large barn, with only the occasional clang and loud grunt alerting me to his presence.

Jasperwas neatly helpful after the others took off, showing me where to find fresh bandages for my arm and taking me on a brief tour around the garden, whichIoffered to take over maintaining.Afterthat, he mostly kept his distance... except that, every other day,Ireceive a new book with neat, handwritten annotations in the margin.Thelibrarian in me wanted to cry whenIfirst saw them, but for some reason,Ihaven’t said anything.

Maybeit’s because, tucked in the neat swirls of his pen, a sharp, mischievous humor soaks through the pages.Seeingmy old friends—Frankenstein,TheHobbit,PrideandPrejudice—throughJasper’seyes is a seductively intimate experience.

Idiscovered he empathizes withVictorFrankenstein’sflaws, and that his heart shatters over the creature’s unending rejection, hating it with a level of addictive loathingIdon’t quite understand but am endlessly fascinated by.Iknow that he doesn’t shareBilbo’sreckless inclination toward adventure, sympathizing instead with the steady rhythms and quiet life of theShirehobbits.AndIlearned he loves the word “ardently,” and that he thinksElizabethBennettis a “saucy minx”—a scribble that startled peals of laughter from me.

Somenights,Ieven find myself curling up in the downstairs sitting room before the crackling fire, and he joins me, elegantly draped in the large armchair opposite my own.Wequietly turn our pages and sip our steaming tea, andIwork hard not to stare at him in the flickering firelight.Andworkveryhard not to notice the coiled intent in his dark eyes as he stares back.Themale need under his cool demeanor.

Despitemy curiosity,I’mgrateful for his silence—for the breathing room they’ve all given me.I’veneeded the space to catch my breath.Despitetheir distance,Istill feel overwhelmed.Overwhelmedby this new world, by their story, by the sudden, abrupt rush of grief-relief over losing my safe haven of the past four years.

Mostof all,I’moverwhelmed bythem.

Masculineenergy pulses in every nook and line of this place, from the tools, weaponry, and rigorous security to the overabundance of meat and the size of all their clothes in the washing basket, all the way down to the clean, pleasantly male scents that permeate the house.

Itmay be elegantly presented.Tidy.Oh-so expensive.Butit’s unmistakable.

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