Advice From a Jilted Bride - Book cover

Advice From a Jilted Bride

Piper Rayne

Chapter Ten

Wyatt

I should note that yes, Brooklyn does, in fact, scare easy.

The only reason I put on a true crime story about three sickos was because I’ve helped my sister, Haylee, through enough heartbreaks to know that any show or movie about love isn’t a good idea right now.

Now, I stare down at Brooklyn’s head on my shoulder and wonder if some sick part of me wants her.

She’s suffering, and the only thing that pops into my head is the fact that her left breast is pressed against my forearm and her lips are so close to mine it wouldn’t take much for me to kiss her.

I blink.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something I regret—something that makes me the dickwad in her life rather than her ex-fiancé.

Sliding out from under her, I guide her head to the pillow, then lay the blanket over her body. I pick up all the Chinese food containers, close them, and put them in the fridge.

On my way to the front door, I peek over the edge of the couch to find her fast asleep with her hands tucked under her cheek.

It’s a shame, really. We might’ve been a good fit because no woman I know would ever let me convince her to eat Chinese food without a plate and watch a true crime story.

But she’s heartbroken, I’m essentially her boss, and I won’t be in Lake Starlight long. Three strikes and I’m out.

I flick the lock on her door and slowly start to shut it behind me.

“What the hell?”

I spin around and jolt back against the partially open door. Fuck. Is this Rome or Denver?

“Shit. I really don’t want to know.” He shakes his head, glancing at the blonde hanging off him.

I’m pretty sure this is Rome.

“Brooklyn asked me to water her plants.” I block the door as casually as I can so I don’t alarm him.

“Her and all that herb shit.” Rome holds up a key. “You should see her garden at the family home.”

At least my lie holds some weight.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He checks out the woman again. “What does it look like? I figure Brooklyn is gone, so I might as well use her place.” He shrugs.

“How did you get a key?”

“Okay, Sherlock Holmes, step aside.” He motions with his hand, inching closer.

I stand my ground. “No. I mean… there’s a bug problem in her apartment.”

Ew!” the blonde says.

Rome inhales a deep breath through his nose and stares at me as though he’s about to rip off my head. Just when I expect him to leave, he turns to the blonde.

“Stay here for a second.” He kisses her cheek and whispers something in her ear that has her giggling and losing her balance.

He motions with his hand for me to move again, and I really don’t have a choice.

I’m sorry, Brooklyn.

“How did you get a key?” I ask.

The devil’s glint shines in his eyes. “I have my magic ways.”

The woman makes an audible sound as though she agrees.

“Joel said not to go in—that it’s really bad,” I say in a last-ditch effort to get him to leave.

He glares at me while opening the door. “You were just in there.”

He steps inside and peers into the small kitchen before heading to the living room.

I watch from the doorway as his shoulders fall and his eyes close when he sees his sister tucked in, asleep on the couch.

I like to think Haylee and I are close. I mean, she’s a little more high society than me, but if I were in Rome’s position, I’d be putting up a Want ad with the bastard’s picture on it.

Even though I know nothing about Rome, the heartbreak on his face is evident. He’s hurting because she is.

He turns and looks at me, points toward the hallway, and walks out. I lock the door from the inside again and turn to face him.

Rome turns his attention to the woman. “Sorry, babe, another night. Something’s come up.”

“But you said—”

His hand molds to her hip, and I look away, not interested in playing the role of Peeping Tom.

“Sorry,” he says again.

She huffs and walks down the stairs. Rome bites his fist as he watches her go. Once she’s out of view, he snaps his fingers and points at my door.

I’m not about to argue, since he probably thinks the worst of me already. I’m sneaking out of his heartbroken sister’s apartment, and he knows I lied to him about her being there.

“What’s going on?” Rome blurts the minute my door shuts. He crosses his arms and presses his lips into a thin line.

“You have the wrong idea. I was just making sure she ate, and I tried to help keep her mind off what happened.”

He huffs. “I’m a red-blooded male too. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

I raise my hands. “Like I said, you’re seeing this all wrong.”

“Then enlighten me, because right now, I see a scumbag taking advantage of my sister who just had her heart shattered.”

At my fridge, I grab a beer and offer one to Rome. He shakes his head.

“I found her in shambles at the front door of the apartment complex last week. She was crying, devastated.”

“She’s supposed to be in Hawaii. She’s been messaging my sisters.” He hasn’t moved yet, his arms still crossed, showcasing just how much muscle will be behind a punch if he decides to go that route.

“She’s lying. She’s been here the entire time. She said she needed the two weeks to herself.” I take a pull from my beer.

He shakes his head and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Fucking shit. Why wouldn’t she come to us?”

I say nothing because if roles were reversed, I wouldn’t give one shit what some guy who knows nothing about my sister thinks.

“Why didn’t she take the honeymoon? Do you know?” His eyes narrow on me.

Having a sister means I also know what Rome’s going to do when I tell him this next bit. How did I find myself in the middle of this family’s drama? “He went on the honeymoon.

“Canceled her ticket and…”

“What?” Rome steps forward, eyes narrowed.

“Took another woman with him. He essentially traded Brooklyn’s ticket for another woman’s.”

Rome’s mouth hangs open.

Okay, this isn’t bad. I thought for sure I’d be handing over my security deposit to Joel because of smashed drywall and broken glass.

“That son of a bitch,” he whispers.

The longer the silence carries on in my apartment, the redder his face grows, hands clenched at his sides.

“Let’s go.” He stomps over to my apartment door and opens it.

“Uh, where?”

“We’re going to Lucky’s.”

“Listen, I shouldn’t have told you. Don’t tell her I said anything.”

He picks up my jacket off the hook near the front door and tosses it to me. “Probably not because I might get arrested when I fly to Hawaii and beat the shit out of him.”

“Don’t do anything hasty.”

“Hasty?” He scoffs and steps out into the hall.

I lock up my apartment and follow him down the stairs.

“Don’t worry, I keep a shitload of secrets in this family. Hell, I knew Austin was fucking Holly forever before anyone else.”

We take the stairs two at a time, and he pushes open the main door of the building. I follow him down the pathway into the parking lot.

“Do you have a sister?” he asks as we climb into his Bronco.

“I do.” I buckle my seat belt while he throws the car into reverse.

“Then you know how hot my blood is right now.” The tires squeal out of the parking lot as “The Phoenix” by Fall Out Boy streams from his speakers.

He’s got good taste in music. Not sure this is the right song for this moment, but the hell if I’ll say anything.

“I can imagine.” If Bradley stood Haylee up at the altar, I’m not sure what I would do.

We arrive at Lucky’s Tavern quickly, thanks to Rome’s driving. He appears to be on a mission as he slams his door and heads into the bar without waiting for me.

What the hell did I get myself into?

Following Rome, I enter the tavern, which turns out to be exactly what I would picture an Alaskan bar looking like.

Lacquered wood is everywhere, but it’s more welcoming than the dark clubs I usually go to in New York.

Rome waves me over to where he’s talking to his twin, Denver, and some other guy at a table, then he signals to the bartender with two fingers in the air.

“So this is Wyatt,” Rome says to the other two.

Denver holds out his hand. “G’ma D’s eye candy.” He squeezes hard, like I assumed he would.

I take the dig. I just hope he can take it back when I send one his way.

“Thank fuck, someone took my spot with Dori.” The bigger guy with a sleeve of tats on both arms and a scruffy beard sticks his hand out toward me. “Liam.”

I shake his hand.

Rome sits in one of the empty chairs, so I sit in the other. A few seconds later, the waiter sets a beer in front of each of us.

“Thanks, Nate.”

“No problem.” He nods and heads back to his post behind the bar.

“I thought you were with Sasha or Cindy or whatever her name is.” Denver tips back his beer, smirking.

“I was.”

“Then you realized you had to take her to your childhood bedroom with Austin and Holly down the hallway?” Liam laughs, and Denver joins in.

“No, idiot. I went to Brooklyn’s.”

Denver tilts his head. “You weaseled a key out of her landlord, didn’t you?”

Rome smiles, holding the top of the beer bottle to his lips.

I guess it’s true that twins share a brain.

“I told you that you can use my place any time,” Liam says. “Hell, I even offered for you to move in.”

“Yeah, he’s sitting in a four-bedroom house like some suburbanite dad,” Denver says and clamps his hand on Liam’s shoulder, laughing.

Liam narrows his eyes at his friend.

I feel as though I’m peering through a window into their life—a life that doesn’t resemble mine in the slightest, but their friendship… I hate to admit it, but I’m slightly jealous.

Not that I don’t have friends in New York; I do, but what these guys have is different, less superficial.

“I’m good, man,” Rome sips his beer. “Anyway, you’ll never guess what good ol’ Wyatt told me.”

Denver must sense something in Rome’s tone because he puts all four chair legs on the floor and leans forward on the table—Liam does the same.

The lighthearted vibe vanishes as though a big wind came through and swept it out the back door.

“Jeff went on their honeymoon.”

Denver’s fist slams on the table.

“With another woman.”

Denver raises his hand as though he’s going to throw the beer bottle, but Liam clamps his hand around Denver’s wrist.

“I know. I know,” Rome waves off his brother’s temper. “We have to be smart about this.” He leans forward, lowering his voice.

“He’s in Hawaii for another week, for which he should be thanking his lucky fucking sack of balls because I’m pretty sure we’d kill him if he was reachable today.”

I lean back in my chair, not interested in having any part of this conversation. I’m in this town with a fake name as it is.

I definitely don’t need to draw attention to myself, and an assault arrest would definitely do that.

“Truth,” Denver says, clicking his beer bottle to Rome’s.

As they make an elaborate plan for payback, I sit there feeling as though I’m in some mafia movie.

And though I’m trying to figure out a way to extricate myself from this situation, I have to wonder if I really want to.

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