See No Evil Part One - Chantal Fernando

SEE NO EVIL

by Chantal Fernando

Acknowledgements Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue

All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission from the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author. CHANTAL FERNANDO Published December 2016 Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs Edited by Hot Tree Editing SEE NO EVIL is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content, as it is FICTION. Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Copyright © 2016 Chantal Fernando All rights reserved.

Dedication To you, The one who sees what I haven’t shown, Hears what I haven’t said, And knows that my eyes give everything away. My muse. Thank you for being you.

Acknowledgements A big thank you to Arijana Karcic at Cover It! Designs for your amazing talent and friendship. I kind of love you. You’re seriously the best. To Rose Tawil—Thank you so much for everything. I wouldn’t be able to function without you! You are one of the best souls I’ve ever come across. My beta reader Leeann Wright—thank you so much for your help. You are the best! Hot Tree Editing—Thank you for being so wonderful to work with. To my bestie Natalie Ram—Thank you for being the ultimate proof reader, and helping me whenever I need it, even though you’re super busy being your own girl boss. Love you, Mami. To my family—my parents, my sisters and my sons—I love you all. To my readers—I hope you love this book as much as I did writing it.

Prologue Sylar “Can we go and play?” I ask my uncle, staring longingly outside, where the sun is shining brightly. We have a pool, and all I want to do is go swimming. Maybe Spencer will shoot some hoops with me afterwards. “After you show me you can do this, Sylar. Come on, stop being so distracted.” I inwardly groan, then throw the knife one-handed at the target in one skilled, quick movement. Bull’s-eye. Of course I can do this. I’m the best student he has. At fourteen, I’m big for my age, and I excel in martial arts and weaponry. I overheard my uncle say I’m going to be an asset. “Am I done now?” I ask him, and he nods. I quickly leave, passing my youngest brother, Sebastian, on the way. As usual, his head is in his books. “You okay, little brother?” I ask him, messing his hair as I pass him. “Want to come for a swim?” He closes his book and stands. “Yes.” I smile, then look around for Spencer, our middle brother. I find him training outside, practicing his kicks, and ask him if he wants to join us. “Am I allowed to stop?” he asks me, glancing around as if scared of being told off. I nod, even though I’m not sure. No one will touch him though. I will make sure of that. My brothers are my responsibility to look after. I’m the eldest, and I’m the strongest. And unlike them, I remember what life was like before this. I will also be the one to get them out of this. They’re going to live normal, happy lives. They’re going to be loved. Not trained and used as weapons. I will make sure of this.

Chapter One I lift my head when I see him walk into my café. He’s a very tall man. Tall and built. He commands attention from everyone around him, but probably not in a good way. People don’t admire this man. They fear him. This is the third time he’s come here in the last week; he must be new to town. No one other than me wants to serve him, and it’s not that I necessarily want to, but I am the owner of the establishment, and it’s up to me to make sure all patrons are taken care of. Equally. It doesn’t matter how imposing or scary this man seems¸ or that it feels like he sucks up all the oxygen in the room. He’s still just a man. For all we know he could be the nicest man in the world. Appearances don’t mean anything. I don’t think it’s his tattoos that cause people to take a step back—I actually like his many tattoos—it’s more his vibe. He has an “everyone fuck off and leave me alone” standoffishness about him, and people heed that warning. “Good morning,” I say to him. “What can I get for you?” He swipes his hand down his thick, dark beard, looking up at the menu on the board, even though I’ve noticed that he’s ordered the same thing every time so far. His eyes are pale blue. I could stare at them all day. He doesn’t say good morning back, and I’ve learnt not to expect it from him. “Long black,” he says, not looking me in the eye. He pulls his wallet out and takes out some money while I ring the order up. “That’s five dollars,” I tell him, our fingers brushing as the money is exchanged. I like that he puts it in my hand though; I think it’s rude when people simply leave money on the table. He retracts his hand quickly and shoves it in his pocket. When I try and give him his five dollars change, he shakes his head and nods toward the tip jar. “Thanks,” I say, shoving the note inside. Someone who always tips so much can’t be that bad. I make his coffee and then place it in front of him. “Hope you have a nice day.” “You too,” he mutters, gaze on his coffee. When he leaves, it’s like all the air returns to the room. He’s a good-looking man, albeit a little scruffy. I get the impression that his looks mean nothing to him, and it’s almost like he wants to hide them under his beard, shaggy dark hair, and loose black clothing. But I see him. “Bree, can I go on break now?” Christina asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “Or do you want to have yours first?” I turn to look at her, and nod. “You can go. I’m not even hungry yet.” “Thanks,” she says, as she pours herself some coffee. “I’m starving. And I had a huge breakfast. Why can’t I stop eating?” All my employees get free coffee and a meal when they’re on shift. I like to look after them, and they

work hard for me in return. Christina and her twin brother, Charlie, have both become close friends of mine, but they never use that to their advantage at work. Sure, we joke around a lot, and act silly when no one else is here, but we also provide amazing customer service and work our asses off. We’re a very productive team, and I truly think they are assets to my small business. “I don’t know,” I say, smirking at her. “But you never put on any weight, so don’t complain.” She grins and runs her gaze down my body. “Neither do you.” “Yeah, but you know how much I exercise,” I say, groaning. I don’t have a very cooperative body; I have to work hard to keep it the way I like it. Luckily for me, I actually enjoy running. I find it therapeutic. “True.” Christina smirks, taking a sip of her coffee, her brown eyes staying on me. “So what’s the deal with that guy?” “What guy?” She nods to the door. “The guy. The creepy hot one.” “Creepy hot?” I ask, laughing. “The shit you say, Christina.” “Well, he is,” she says, shrugging. “I’m going to make a sandwich out back.” She walks into the kitchen, leaving me manning the front counter alone. I glance around the mostly empty café and lean my elbows on the counter. This place is my own little slice of heaven. It was my parents’ business, until they handed it to me and went into retirement. I’ve been running it for two years now, ever since I was twenty-six years old. “Hey, Bree,” Charlie says as he walks in. Dressed in black, like the rest of us, his hair is neatly brushed back, his brown eyes warm and friendly. I look down to his hands, where he’s holding his helmet. “I suppose I’m not in trouble for being late, considering the place is dead.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “I don’t think you’ll be fired for being two minutes late, Charlie.” “Excellent,” he says, coming behind the counter and kissing me on the cheek. “Where is that sister of mine?” “Stuffing her face in the back,” I say, smiling at him. “Standard,” is his reply, making me laugh. “As if you can talk.” I smirk at him and lift my finger. “And don’t tell me you’re a growing boy. You’re twenty-five. I think the growing is done.” “Fine, I’m just a hungry-ass man then,” he states, glancing over the café. I nod. “That sounds about right.” “Who else is on this afternoon?” he asks, bringing his eyes back to me. “Christina and I are leaving in an hour, and then Tori and Elijah will come in,” I tell him. “If there’re any problems—” “Just give you a call,” he inserts. “I know, Bree. We’ve got this under control. You can spend the rest of the day relaxing, instead of thinking up every single scenario that could possibly go wrong. Nothing is going to go wrong. I will close up, and tomorrow morning when you arrive, the place will still be

standing.” “I know it will,” I say, not wanting him to think I don’t think he’s capable. I’m just a worrier; it’s what I do. “I’m just saying, you can call me if you need me.” “I know,” he says, amusement flashing in his gaze. A customer walks in and Charlie goes to serve her while I make sure everything is stocked for the rest of the day. Time passes quickly, and soon Christina and I are heading out the door. “Do you want to get a drink or something later?” she asks, stopping by my car. I glance back to the café. “What, like a coffee?” “No,” she says, smirking. “I know you don’t like day dates. One with more of a… kick. And by a kick I mean a shot of vodka.” “Yeah, I got that,” I reply, laughing. “A drink sounds good. How’s seven?” That gives me plenty of time to head home and play with my dog, Snoop, and do a little work on my house. I’ve been renovating it, or at least trying to do as much as I can at my own pace, only calling in professionals when I really need to. It keeps me busy when I’m not at work. I say bye to Christina then get in my car and drive home.

***** “He’s staring at you again,” Christina points out, smirking into her drink. “Can he make it any more obvious?” Living in a small town, everyone knows everyone, and even if they don’t, they know something about everyone. The man Christina is referring to, Paul, owns a few businesses in town, including a supermarket and a barbershop. I’ve never spoken to him before, but I haven’t heard the best things about him, including that he’s not a very kind boss. I think that alone speaks volumes about him. “Not interested,” I grumble, finishing my drink and sliding it to the middle of the table. “I’m happy to be twenty-eight and single. I don’t care how much shit my mum gives me about it.” And that would be a lot. When are you going to give us grandchildren, Brielle? Being an only child comes with a lot of pressure, but I’m sorry, it doesn’t look like they’ll be getting grandkids anytime soon. Times are changing. Women are taking on different roles. Sure, I’d love to have a kid one day, but I’m not going to jump into a relationship with just anyone to make that happen. My experience with men tells me that my chances of finding “the one” are about as likely as me getting pregnant. A big not at all. I’m sure there are good men out there, just not in my general vicinity. I don’t plan on moving to the city, and I don’t think any man would move here to this sleepy town just for me, so right now, my café is

my love. I enjoy my life just as it is. Good friends, a roof over my head, and food on my table; how can I possibly complain? So I’m not having any hot sex, but hey, they created toys so I can take care of that by myself too. Might not be as fun… okay, nowhere near as fun, but what can you do? I’m going through a dry spell, an extremely dry one, and I just need to push through it. Last year wasn’t dry at all. After breaking up with my ex-boyfriend, I kind of went a little wild, playing the field and having a little fun, but now? Those times are just memories. “I’m so happy I’m only twenty-five,” Christina says, ignoring my scowl. “When you hit thirty I’ll still be young for three more years.” “Thanks for that,” I mutter, glancing at the bar longingly, but feeling too lazy to move to buy another round. “At least you still look twenty,” she continues, shrugging. “Gotta look at the pros, right? I’d say that’s a big one. Do you want me to go and order you another drink?” “I’ll wait until you finish yours,” I say, apparently more of an alcoholic than she is. “Oh fuck,” she mutters, her brown eyes going wide as saucers. “He’s coming over here.” “Who?” I ask, turning to look. “Don’t look!” She groans, but it’s too late as I watch Paul approach us. “Hello, ladies,” he says, sitting down on the seat in between us without even asking if it’s okay. “How are you both doing tonight?” I look to Christina, who has no problem talking to anyone or anybody, hoping she will reply so I don’t have to, but she actually stays silent this time. “We’re doing fine, thanks,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m Paul,” he says, offering me, then Christina, his hand. “Bree,” I say, giving him nothing else. “I’m Christina,” my friend says, shaking her head and studying him. “Nice to meet you, Paul.” “Pleasure is all mine,” he says, flashing his teeth. “Can I get either of you a drink?” “No, thank you,” I quickly say, knowing Christina has no problem with free drinks, but I, on the other hand, do, and I don’t want him to think that I’m interested in any way. “So what do the two of you do? I’ve seen you around town before,” he says, looking between us. He’s probably asking this so he gets the chance to talk about himself and brag about the businesses he owns. “I’m a student and work in a café,” Christina says, finishing her drink off. “Nothing too interesting. Bree works with me.” “Right,” he says, nodding. “I own a few businesses around here, so if you’re ever looking for a job….” Bingo. “Cool,” Christina says, dragging out the word. “Well, we’re going to head to the bar. It was nice

meeting you though.” She stands and nods to the bar. I follow her. Paul scrambles back to his own table, where his two friends are waiting for him. “More vodka?” she asks, pulling out her purse. “All the vodka.” “Shame. He’s actually decent looking,” she murmurs, pursing her lips. He is, even I’ll admit that. If I didn’t know anything about him, I’d think he was good-looking and maybe even charming. However, one of the girls who works for him in the supermarket comes in for coffee every day, and the poor thing looks miserable. I like to treat people how they treat me, but in this case, even if he’s nothing but super nice to me, I don’t think I can respect a man who is awful to his own employees, taking advantage of his position of power. Sharon told me that he pretty much works them into the ground with nothing but a crappy wage and a terrible environment in return. “With a side of sleaze,” I add, puffing out a breath. Christina throws her head back and laughs. “You totally nailed it there. He’s totally a sleaze. Has that slimy vibe to him.” “Yep.” “It’s a tough life being a babe,” she adds, grinning, then orders us two more drinks. “One guy approaches us, one who would probably approach anything with tits and ass, and it’s a tough life?” I ask her, laughing. She nods to behind me. “Who said it was just one guy?” Two men come over and introduce themselves. Christina humours them, answering their questions, while I stay quiet, only speaking when spoken to directly. I smile when I can, so I don’t seem so rude, but truly I’d rather do anything than make small talk with these men. I have to wonder, is dating this awful outside of small towns?

Chapter Two “Long black,” he says, looking down as he pulls his wallet out of his black jeans pocket. I’m alone at work this morning, at least for the next hour, but I don’t feel unsafe with the man in front of me. “What’s your name?” I find myself asking. He lifts his head, blue eyes hitting me full force as he finally looks me directly in the eye for the first time. He’s handsome. His eyes are beautiful. Sure, he could use a shave and a haircut, but he’s still a very ruggedly good-looking man. His shoulders are broad, and I can just tell he’s got a good body under his faded black T-shirt. “Sylar,” he says in his deep husky tone. Unusual name for an unusual man. “I’m Bree,” I say, smiling at him. “Well, my full name is Brielle, but everyone calls me Bree.” Great, now I’m rambling. I clear my throat. “Five dollars, thank you.” He hands me the money, and as usual, declines when I try to give him back his change. “Thank you, Sylar. I hope you have a good day,” I say, wondering what he does for a living to tip so highly every time. I mean, it might not be much to some people, but essentially he pays double for his coffee with his tip every time, when he doesn’t have to. I want to ask him, but I think I’ve exhausted my limit on questions for the day. He dips his head at me and leaves the café. I watch him until he disappears. Sylar. I don’t know who he is, or what he does, or what his story is. But I want to find out.

***** When he comes in the next morning, I flash him a smile and start to make his coffee before he even orders. This time though, when he tries to pay, I tell him, “It’s on the house today.” He looks confused for a moment. “What?” “Well,” I say, licking my lips. “You’re always nice and tip, so I thought today I’d return the niceness and give you a free coffee.” Is niceness a word? Great, I’m making up words now. Why do I feel a little nervous? I’m not usually the type who gets like this when talking to men. I usually don’t care. It’s hard for anyone to get a reaction out of me, penis or not, but right now I just really want him to chat to me. He studies me for a moment, blinking slowly. “Why are you alone here in the mornings? It’s not safe.”

I shift on my feet. “Why isn’t it safe?” “It’s just not,” he says, shrugging like he couldn’t care less, but why did he even make that comment then? He suddenly looks a little uncomfortable when he adds, “You’re an… attractive woman, and you shouldn’t be here alone.” Instead of getting angry at him telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, I can’t help but feel a little amused. And happy that he finds me attractive. “Are you new to town?” I ask him, knowing that has to be the case. He nods, then watches as I slide his coffee to him. “Hope you have a good day.” He takes the coffee, but then places a ten-dollar note on the table. Before I can open my mouth to object, he gives me his back as he exits. Elijah is the first to show up to the café. Covered in tattoos and piercings, the man is way too overqualified for this job, with two degrees under his belt, but shows up here every day anyway. “Hey, Elijah,” I say, smiling at him. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes. He must be so drained, working a full day then going home to look after his elderly mother. I’ve never asked him why he doesn’t put her in a home, but either he refuses to on principal or it’s too costly. Each day I tell him to take whatever food he wants for himself and his mother. I also drop by some nights with food I’ve made from home, just so it’s one less thing for him to worry about. “Morning, Bree.” He winks a blue eye at me. “Busy morning?” “Same as usual,” I reply on a sigh. “Which is a big not at all.” “Hopefully it will pick up now,” he says, making himself a cup of coffee. “Do you want me to do the stocktake today, or do you want to do it?” I think it over. “I’ll do it. Christina and Tori can man the front, and you can make the sandwiches out back.” “Sounds good,” he says, moaning as he takes his first sip. “This is definitely going to get me through the day.” “Glad you approve of the product.” I grin up at him. I then dare to ask, “Hey, do you know anything about the guy who comes in every morning?” “Which one?” he asks, arching a brow. “The only man in town who has more tattoos than you.” I lean back on the counter. “Oh, right, him,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Nothing… yet. It’s only time before something comes out though.” He pauses, then adds, “Talk about stealing my thunder as the black sheep of the town.” I laugh at that. “I can’t believe that thought even crossed your mind. That’s hilarious.” He puts a hairnet over his dark hair then washes his hands with soap, getting ready to start doing some work. “It’s true though. Why are you asking about him? Got a taste for the bad boys, hey? If so, there’s one standing right in front of you that you could give a try.”

I roll my eyes. “Why, Elijah, are you hitting on your boss?” He likes to play around with me, but he never crosses any boundaries, nor is he serious. In fact, I think he has a crush on Sharon, the girl who works for Paul, although he’ll never admit it. He shakes his head no, then says, “Yes” out loud. Laughter escapes me. “Come back when you’re grown, kid. So in about ten years.” He sticks his chest out. “I’m twenty-three, not eighteen. I tie my own shoes and everything.” “All the same to me,” I say with a cheeky grin. “I feel like all those piercings are compensating for a lack of something else….” I point to his lip ring and eyebrow ring. He doesn’t get mad at my comment, he simply smirks. “Be more than happy to prove that theory wrong.” I playfully nudge him. “I think I’ll just take your word for it.” Christina and Charlie walk in, the two of them chatting with each other. “Morning, Bree,” she says, smiling. She hands me a brown bag from a local fast-food restaurant. “I brought you breakfast. There’s some in there for you too, Elijah.” I look in the bag and grin. We do serve food here, sandwiches, rolls, and cakes, but I do love something different, especially these hash browns and bagels. “Thanks,” I say, placing the bag below the counter so none of the patrons can see it. It wouldn’t exactly be good for business if any of us are seen eating from elsewhere, even if we’re essentially just a coffee stop. Elijah grabs the bag, grins, and heads into the back with it. “You’re welcome!” Christina calls out after him, then brings her eyes to me. “Guess what just happened?” “Fuck’s sake, don’t make me relive it,” Charlie grumbles, scowling at his baby sister of three minutes. He follows Elijah, disappearing into the back, while I lean on the counter, waiting for her to continue. “We stopped to get petrol, and there was this hot-ass guy in the car behind us.” She puts up her hand when I’m about to ask a question. “No idea who he was, and haven’t seen him around town.” “Passing through?” I ask, which is probable. All the good ones usually are. “I don’t know,” she says. “But I quickly got out to put petrol in before Charlie did, and he was fully checking me out. So I smiled and wished him a good morning.” “And?” “And he told me that I have a beautiful smile and asked for my number,” she says, smiling dreamily, her hand on her chest. Her smile suddenly turns into a glare. “He was putting my number into his phone when Charlie started beeping the horn. It was so embarrassing!” I laugh as I picture that playing out. “You know how he gets weird about you and men. He’s just being a typical protective brother.”

Not that I know that from my own experience, but I know how much Charlie loves his sister. If I had a sibling, I’d want to protect them too. And fuckboys are a real danger these days—that I do know from experience. “Yeah, I know,” she grumbles. “I’m twenty-five now though. At least he doesn’t try and beat them up like he did in high school.” “There you go, look at the positives,” I tease with a grin. I know it must be a pain to have to deal with Charlie, but the truth is, I’d love to have someone who cared about me like that. I find being an only child rather boring, and my childhood was spent mostly amusing myself. My parents are amazing ones, but they did work a lot, and were always busy. “Now I just have to wait for him to call,” she says, eyes sparkling. “You should have seen him, Bree. Dark hair, stubble, tall, perfect build. He’s a dreamboat.” “Sounds like a heartbreaker to me,” I say, earning myself an eye roll. There’s a type of man one should avoid, and they come in a package like the one she just mentioned. They are good-looking, confident, charismatic, and know exactly what to say and do. They pull you into their game, complete with head fucks and mind-blowing sex, and make you question yourself. About everything. “You’re too young for such cynicism, Bree,” she says, and not for the first time. “And even if he is a heartbreaker, I’m not looking for someone to marry. I haven’t had sex in six months and—” “Jesus Christ.” I hear Charlie groan as he walks into the front, catching his sister’s last line. “I really don’t want to know that shit, Chris.” She rolls her eyes again. “We live together, Charlie. It’s not like I don’t see you bring girls home. Quit it with the double standards.” He looks at me, cringing. “I need a raise. To move out and get my own place.” I laugh. I wish I could give him a raise. Unfortunately, this place only just makes enough to get by. I need something, an idea, to make more profit, but until I come up with it, we’re all stuck here, barely making ends meet. I’m lucky—my parents left me their house, too. And it’s paid off, so I don’t have to worry about a mortgage. Christina and Charlie are renting. “You can move in with me,” I tell Christina. “You can bring as many men as you like home. I’ll wear my earphones.” “I hate you guys,” Charlie says with no heat, scrubbing his hand down his face. “And maybe that is a good idea. Then I can turn my place into a bachelor pad.” “It’s practically one now,” Christina grumbles. “He leaves pizza boxes everywhere, and some mornings there are random women standing in my kitchen. How is that not a bachelor pad?” “Because you decorated it,” he points out. “I want less colourful pillows and shit, and a more minimalistic look.” Christina blinks slowly, then turns to look at me. “Do you see what I have to deal with?” “Those pillows are pretty fruity,” I hesitantly say, unable to keep a straight face.

Charlie barks out a laugh while his sister narrows her brown eyes on me. Just as she’s about to speak, the bell rings as two customers enter, and everyone quickly disappears to where they’re supposed to be. Time to work.

Chapter Three “You’re early today,” I note as Sylar walks into the café just as I open the next morning. He arches a dark, thick brow. “I didn’t realize I had an exact time that I came in.” I can feel my cheeks heat as I give away the fact that I noticed this. Yeah, I pay attention to these things, sue me. I shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s my job to pay attention to my customers’ needs.” Oh fuck. Did I just say that? Did that just sound like…? Okay, now I know I’m blushing, and I know he can see it. He doesn’t say anything though, nor does his expression give anything away. He just studies me, waiting. Oh, right. I should probably do my job. I clear my throat. “What can I get you? The usual?” “Two, please,” he says, pulling his wallet out. “Two long blacks?” I confirm, wondering who the other one is for. Or does he plan to drink two? He nods and places a twenty on the table. I glance up at him whilst I’m getting his order. “Been in town long?” He shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate. Finding out information about him is like pulling teeth, and it just makes me more curious. “Do you live here?” I pry, wondering if he is just passing through. “Or are you here for work or something?” “I just moved here,” he says, shifting on his feet, as if uncomfortable. “Kind of like an early retirement.” My eyebrows rise. He looks like he’s about thirty years old, midthirties at the oldest. How can he be retiring? Maybe he’s making a joke. I eye his expression. No, there’s no joking there. I wonder if he’s ever told a joke his whole life. I doubt he’s going to have any laugh lines appear anytime soon. Maybe he’s rich, or has a trust fund or something. I don’t ask. Money is a subject most people don’t feel comfortable talking about, and I don’t want to make him not want to come here anymore because I ask so many questions. “I hope you like it here,” I settle on saying, smiling and placing his two coffees in a tray and handing it to him. He glances around the café. “This place is yours?” I nod. “Yeah, it’s a family business.” I tilt my head to the side. “Or at least it was. I run it alone now.”

“Where are your parents?” he asks, blue eyes pinned on me yet giving nothing away. I’ve never spoken to anyone who hides his emotions so well before. Nothing plays out on his face, and I have to wonder why that is. What is it about this man that has me so curious? Is it because he’s such a mystery? He’s definitely not my type. I don’t go for the ones that give off an alpha male vibe. At least I don’t anymore. “Retired,” I say, smirking. “They waited a little longer than you did.” His lip twitches, and I feel like I’ve accomplished something huge. A tiny reaction, but a good one nonetheless. “I’m still working, just a change in career paths, I guess you can say. I’m doing some construction work now.” “Cool,” I say, tucking his change money into the tray so he can’t try and give me another tip. “I’m trying to renovate my house right now. Doing a questionable job, but I’m trying.” His eyes widen. “By yourself?” I nod. He shifts on his feet, looks towards the door, then back at me. “You don’t have a man?” I shake my head. “No man. How about you, are you single?” I hope he is, although I don’t know why. It’s not like anything will come out of this; he’s a customer, and obviously not much of a people person, although he seems to be opening up to me. Maybe that’s why I’m so interested. I don’t know. He barks out a short laugh, one that sounds more bitter than anything. “Yeah. I don’t have a woman.” “Oh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice woman here then.” Maybe he’s already met her. Again—what the fuck? Since Eric broke my heart, I’ve never been the same again. I don’t trust like I did, and like Christina says, I’ve become cynical. Both men and women get their hearts broken every day, and they still love again, so I don’t know why I’ve found it so hard to handle. I loved him so much, with the very essence of my being, and now I’m scared to love again. It means giving my power away, and I’m not ready to do that. When Eric cheated, my whole mindset changed. When he got the woman he cheated with pregnant, and married her, my whole world exploded. After I’d invested years into us, planning for the future, I suddenly had a fresh start I never asked for or deserved. And now? Some people think I’m cold, but I’m not. I’m just careful with who I let in. The men I’ve dated casually since him have been gentler, softer men. Regular men, slightly on the boring side, more safe than anything. The problem with that? They can’t seem to hold my attention. I don’t claim to be a prize of any kind. I’m pretty, not amazing; I’m smart, not magnificent. I’m a good woman, or at least I was. My heart is still good, it’s just a little bruised. It beats the same though. I’m sure the old me is still in there somewhere. The romantic. The woman who thought she was

going to be with one man for the rest of her life. I wanted the big wedding, the white picket fence, and the two-point-five children. I wanted it all. And now? I don’t know what I want. I’m single, childless, and running the café, still stuck in my hometown. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Eric may be gone now, but his memory still lingers, like a poison in my veins. The local bad boy, the one I thought I’d tamed, rode off on his motorbike without me. I’m still here, though. I was left behind to pick up the pieces, and I have. I thought I’d buried my craving for men like Eric, the strong, mysterious, badass kind, but I guess I’m not as smart as I think I am, because there’s nothing I’d like to do more than talk to this man. I want to find out everything about him. I want to ask questions with no restrictions. I don’t want to bite my tongue. I want to discover who he is. I want to know why he’s caught my eye. Sylar—the man before me—is not a safe man. “I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, then looks me in the eye. “Brielle.” I smile. He remembered my name. And my full name, not the nickname everyone calls me. He picks up the tray on the counter, and places the ten-dollar note back on the table. “Have a good day,” he says, ducking his head before I’m able to say it first, leaving me with a smile on my face. I watch him exit, taking him in from his thick head of hair to his broad shoulders and narrowed hips. He has dressed a little better today, his clothes more fitting. He definitely has a good body under there. I look through the window and watch as he gets into his truck and drives off. “Caught in the act,” Christina says as she walks in, smirking. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I murmur, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter. “You were totally checking creepy hot guy out,” she says, coming to the counter as a customer would. “You have weird taste, you know that? He looks like he could be a Viking or something.” “Is that meant to turn me off?” I ask her, wrinkling my nose. She laughs and says, “No, I guess not. So what’s the next move? Wait until he asks you out for a drink?” She laughs harder, then adds, “Should I warn him that you don’t like doing day dates?” My cheeks heat as she pulls up a fact I’m not exactly proud about. For first dates, I’m a little picky. Sitting through a lunch with someone you just met can be awkward, as is trying to eat, chat, and look hot at the same time, so I prefer evening or night dates. It’s less pressure, and I can order tequila without looking like an alcoholic. “Remember when that Dave guy asked you out for coffee on that dating app, and you freaked out and deleted the whole app?” she says, throwing her head back and laughing. “Oh God, that was hilarious.” “That was the first date I was going to go on after Eric,” I say defensively. “Of course I freaked out! I’d never really dated anyone else.” She stops laughing, trying to contain herself, but her twitching lip gives her away. “Yeah, but on the weekend before, we went to that male strip club and you licked that stripper’s abs.” She pauses for emphasis. “In public.”

I laugh with her this time, remembering the night she is referring to. “I blame it on the tequila.” “You’re hilarious, Bree,” she says, wiping a tear that escapes her eye. “If creepy hot guy asks you out for a day date, what are you going to say? Dates involving alcohol only?” “It sounds so bad when you say it like that,” I mutter under my breath. “And it’s not like I’m meeting a random guy from online. I’ve already met and spoken to him. And you’re acting like this is a done deal! There’s no way he’s going to ask me out. He barely talks to me.” “We’ll see,” she says, then walks around the counter just as a group of people walk in. There’s nothing wrong with needing a little liquid courage every now and again.

Chapter Four I’m taking my dog for a walk down the block when I come to a standstill in front of a two-storey house. Two men are standing out the front by a truck, and one of them is very familiar. They both turn to look at me standing there like an idiot. Sylar doesn’t smile, but the man next to him does. “And what do we have here?” I hear him say as he approaches me. “Hello, beautiful. How are you doing today?” “Fine, thanks,” I say, taking in the man. He has the same colouring as Sylar, dark hair and blue eyes, but is very well put together, dressed in dark jeans and a shirt. His hair is short and styled and there is a little stubble on his cheeks, probably because he likes it that way, not because he’s been too lazy to shave. “I’m Spencer,” he says, giving me a once-over. “And you are?” “Bree,” I say, looking down at my pug. “And this is Snoop.” “Snoop?” he asks, eyes going wide. He looks down at him, and I can tell he’s not very impressed by my companion, but I don’t really care. I rescued Snoop from the shelter, and if I hadn’t taken him in, he would have been put down. “Yeah,” I say, flashing him a small smile. “I’m just taking him for a short walk. I guess I’ll… uhh... nice to meet you.” They literally live down the road from me. How did I not know this? I saw the For Sale sign on this property about a month or so back, but I didn’t know that it sold. The people who lived here prior were always travelling and hardly here. I look behind him to Sylar, who is standing there like a statue, watching the interaction between me and Spencer. “Nice to see you, Sylar.” “Wait,” Spencer says, looking between the two of us. “You know her? You’ve been hiding this beauty away, brother?” Brother? Yeah, I guess I can see that. Sylar is taller and more built than Spencer, but the features are somewhat similar. The difference is Sylar seems to want to hide his, while Spencer flaunts them. Spencer’s eyes are also not as blue at Sylar’s. “Brothers, hey?” I say, looking from one to the other. “Who is the oldest?” Spencer nods to Sylar. “He is. How do you two know each other exactly?” “Well, we don’t.” I clear my throat. “I mean not really. Sylar comes into my café to get coffee most mornings.” I’m feeling really awkward, mainly because Sylar hasn’t said a thing to me. It’s like he really doesn’t want me here right now, but I have no idea why. I wish I hadn’t taken this route today. I should have gone

the other way. Change sucks. “I see,” Spencer murmurs, an undefinable emotion flashing in his eyes. “Interesting.” “I better get going,” I say, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. “Nice to meet you, Spencer.” “You too, Bree,” he says, smiling warmly. “I’m sure we’ll run into you and Snoop again.” He makes it sound like a promise. I wave awkwardly then beeline it out of there, walking down to the bottom of the street at a quick pace. It’s only when I get to the bottom I realize that I have to walk back past their house, because the street is a cul-de-sac and I can’t get through without jumping someone’s fence, which honestly sounds like the better option. Shit. I don’t think Snoop would enjoy that much. I’d have to carry his chubby self because there’s no way he can do any kind of jumping. Maybe they’ve gone inside now, and I can quickly jog by without having to face either man again. How does this shit happen to me? I walk extra slowly around the cul-de-sac then back up the street, staying on the opposite side of the street, next to the bush. As their house approaches, I chance a glance out of the corner of my eye, and… they are still there. Staring at me. Oh my God, they probably think I’m an idiot. Do I wave? Do I pretend I can’t see them? What is less awkward? I end up going for the second awkward wave of the day, because I don’t want to be rude. They know I can see them; there’s no point pretending otherwise. I can see Sylar just watching me, arms crossed, while Spencer waves back. I smile and look down in front of me, quickening my pace, if that’s even possible, making poor Snoop walking faster than he ever has in his life. I hear Spencer laugh, and I want to crawl inside a hole and die. For the first time ever, I hope he doesn’t come in tomorrow morning.

***** “Are you wearing makeup?” Elijah asks, narrowing his eyes and bringing his face closer to mine to inspect. “You are. To work. What’s the occasion?” I purse my lips. “Can I not look nice at work without an interrogation?” So I put a tiny bit of effort into my appearance today. What’s the big deal? I just added a little contouring to my face, and filled my eyebrows in. It’s not like I came into work looking like a cake face. Not that there’s anything wrong with girls who choose to do so. “If you’re trying to look nice for me, you don’t have to, babe,” he says with a seedy wink. “You have a natural beauty that appeals to a man like me.” I turn to Charlie, who is smirking in my direction. “How does he still have a job?” “Because our boss is a very patient woman,” he says, shrugging. “And there’re no other cool people in this town to hire. So really he’s here by default.”

“I make a mean sandwich,” Elijah says, squaring his shoulders. “And don’t get me started on my coffee skills. Oh, and I’m also extremely overqualified for this job.” While the two of them continue their argument, I think about Sylar and the fact that he never came in this morning. I know in my head I’d wished that he wouldn’t, but now I’m feeling a little let down that he didn’t show up. I had this whole spiel ready. I was going to say a charming line to play off yesterday’s incident. Something about living down the road from me. I don’t know. Something witty that might earn me another lip twitch, or heaven forbid—a smile. Why is he so difficult? I don’t even know if he is or not, really. I don’t know anything about him, but it sure seems like he is.

***** “A guy just sent me a dick pic,” Christina says, not even batting an eyelash over it. I suppose since she’s a regular on several dating sites, it’s something she sees often enough that it doesn’t even faze her anymore. “And?” I ask her, peering over her screen, trying to get a glimpse. “Is it anything to brag about or not?” I’ve never received a dick pic before, and I don’t know what is sadder, that no one wants to show me their dick, or that it’s now the norm to do so. “Eh,” she says, shrugging and putting her phone down. She shoves a chip in her mouth and looks back at the TV screen. “What did you reply to him?” I ask, wondering what exactly the etiquette is in these kind of scenarios. “Nothing,” she says, smirking in my direction. “What was I meant to say?” I roll my eyes. “At least a thank you, surely!” She starts laughing, shaking her head. “You’re hilarious, you know that? Why should I thank him for sending a pic of his cock? I didn’t ask for it. He sent it for him, not me. He wants me to make a comment on how big and great it is, or something along those lines, to give his ego a boost, but you know what?” “What?” I ask, wondering what else is going to come out of her mouth. “I’m not a liar,” she states with a straight face. I suddenly can’t stop laughing. “Dick pic 101,” she says, winking at me. “Maybe you should get online and experience some of this shit with me.” “Because it sounds so great?” I fire back, sticking out my tongue at her. “If I wanted to see penis, I’d just go watch some porn.” “These dicks are available in real life though,” she says, picking up her phone and waving it in the air. “Only one message away. Except the only guy I want to contact me, still hasn’t.”

“You still haven’t heard from him?” I ask, knowing she’s been waiting for the guy who took her number at the petrol station to call. Something hits me. “You know the way you described him sounds exactly like Spencer.” “Creepy hot guy’s brother?” she asks, eyes going wide. I told her all about what happened yesterday when I was walking Snoop, even though I didn’t want to relive it. As expected, she laughed at me first before assuring me it wasn’t a big deal, and not as embarrassing as I think it is. She’s clearly being a good friend by lying to me to try and make me feel better. “Yeah,” I say, tilting my head to the side. “And this town is small enough for it to be true.” “How do we find out?” she asks, leaning closer to me. “Maybe we should take Snoop for another walk past their house.” I purse my lips. “By all means, take my Snoopy, use him as your wingman, but there is no way in hell I’m walking past that house again.”

** Thirty minutes later ** “I hate you.” “You’re a great friend,” Christina says, beaming as she gets her way, while I’m going to be left looking like a total dickhead in front of Sylar. Again. Him not coming into the café yesterday spoke volumes. He’s not interested, and to be honest, he never gave me any indication that he was. I don’t know why I feel a little down about it, but I do. I have horrible taste in men, always have, and probably always will, and it’s probably for the best that he stops coming into the café. I don’t need to look forward to seeing anyone every day, and I sure as hell don’t need to be intrigued by a man who looks like he plays a villain in his spare time. As we approach the house, I exhale in relief as I don’t see the men out the front. Maybe I’ll catch a lucky break this time, and won’t have to see either of them. “That’s the house,” I tell her hesitantly, nodding further up to the right. “I have a plan,” she says, glancing down at me. “It involves you hiding in the bushes.” I do a double take of my best friend, not sure that I heard her words right. “Wait, what? What are you going to do exactly?” The sad part is, I don’t think I’m opposed to hiding in the bushes. As long as they never see me, I’m good to go. And I’m still being a great partner in crime by being here. It’s a win-win situation. “I’m going to go knock on his door, and then act surprised when I see him,” she says, glancing down the street and back. She looks down at her boobs and cups them, pulling her bra up, making them look nice. “These two need to look perfect in case he answers the door.” “And why are you going to say you’re at his door?” I ask, hoping her plan has more substance to it than that.

Her brow furrows in thought. “I’ll tell him I’m looking for my cat or something.” I blink a few times. “You don’t have a cat. In fact, you don’t even like cats.” “He doesn’t know that,” she says, and points to a large bush across from his house. “You and Snoop should hide there.” “Are you sure this is the best plan of action?” I ask her, picking up Snoop and stopping in my tracks. “I really don’t want Sylar to see me at his house again.” He’ll probably think I’ve turned into a stalker or something. Great, just what I need. And knowing Christina, this plan is going to be an epic fail anyway. She doesn’t get embarrassed, and will play any situation off. I, on the other hand, would rather not have to explain to Sylar why I’m in the bushes near his house. However, the sooner we do this, the sooner we can leave. And I want to leave. “No one will see you,” she promises, patting Snoop’s head. “I’ve got this.” “You’ve also got no shame,” I tell her. She nods. “I know. This dating world is rough though, so it’s time for drastic measures. Why take my number and then not call? He’s practically asking for this.” I sigh and point to the bush. “I’ll be behind there.” As I lower myself to the grass and make sure all of me is hidden behind the bush, I wonder if this is the lowest point in my life. Sadly, probably not.

Chapter Five I watch from in between leaves as Christina knocks on the door, and silently pray that no one is home. “Come on,” I whisper, hoping for the ideal situation, one where we go home after this and never have to walk past this house again. A drama-free outcome. I’m not that lucky. The door opens, but I can’t see who she’s talking to, if it’s one of the brothers or someone else. Please don’t be Sylar. When she moves aside a few minutes later, Spencer walks out and looks along the side of his house. She follows him and glances out over his front yard. I’m wondering what they’re doing when it hits me. Is he helping her look for her cat? The one that doesn’t exist? Jesus Christ. When Spencer has his back turned to me, she waves in my direction and gives me a thumbs-up. This woman is going to be the death of me. With a sudden, quick move, Snoop jumps out of my arms and I accidentally let go of the lead. Before I can reclaim it, he bolts, his version of bolting anyway, and heads straight in Christina and Spencer’s direction. Oh, fuck. I stay hidden, knowing Christina will grab him and watching as she does so. Spencer must have said something hilarious, because she starts laughing, Snoop against her chest, then puts him down and holds the lead. Spencer lifts his head and looks right at me. Right at my bush. Oh my God. Does he know I’m here? Can he see me? Or is he just wondering why a chubby pug ran out of a bush all of a sudden? Crap, he knows it’s my dog, too. And he knows I know where he lives, so he probably must have figured out that Christina showing up at his front door isn’t a coincidence. She should have just said that she was taking Snoop out for a walk and lost him, but it’s too late now. My dog is on Sylar’s property, and Christina’s fake cat will never be found. This whole scenario is a huge disaster, just like I knew it would be. How do I even get into these situations? When I see Spencer pointing to where I am, I know that he either sees me, or knows someone or something is behind this bush. Maybe he thinks it’s the cat? You know, the one that doesn’t exist. Christina takes his hand in hers and distracts him by leading him to the other side of the yard. Should I take this chance to make a run for it? He’s bound to see me, though. Oh God, am I going to just have to sit here until it gets dark or something? Or until they go back into his house, or whatever it is the two of them are going to do next.

“What exactly are you doing, Brielle?” comes a deep voice to my right. I freeze. I know that voice; it’s the one I don’t want to hear right now. Where did he even come from? I turn my head and look into Sylar’s eyes. He’s watching me, eyes narrowed, arms crossed against his broad chest. He looks different. I think because he’s actually wearing fitted clothing, a sleeveless Tshirt and track pants. He must have been out running, and happened to stumble upon me hiding in the bush, staring at his house like a total creep. How can I even explain this situation to save myself? I don’t think I can. “I’m… tying my shoelace,” I say, shrugging and standing up, facing him. “And looking for a cat, apparently.” I picture myself as he must see me, my blonde hair in a braid down my back, face free of make-up except the mascara on my lashes. I’m in workout clothes, leggings and a loose-fitting black top with the arm holes showing off the sides of my stomach. “Brielle—” “You didn’t come in to get your coffee,” I blurt out, unable to stop myself. As soon as I say the words I regret them, because they give so much away. They tell him that I noticed, and they tell him that it bothers me. I don’t know this man well enough for it to bother me, yet it clearly does. I never give so much of myself away, yet with him it’s like all bets are off. Why? I take in his features, his beard, those blue eyes I can’t seem to stop thinking about, and then his mouth. Those lips. I’d like to taste them, but I know that one taste will only leave me hungry for more. His lips are tainted with something I should run from, but instead am actively seeking. I think this says a lot about me. He glances toward his house, then back down at me. “Are you hiding in the bush while your friend talks to my brother?” His brow furrows, and I can understand why this would puzzle him, because surely it’s not normal behaviour. I brush the grass off my butt and shift on my feet, not really sure what to say. “It’s a long story.” “I have all the time in the world, Brielle,” he says, arching a brow at me. I look to Christina, except she has now disappeared, Snoop too. “Where did she go?” “She went inside,” Sylar says, eyes not leaving me. “She wanted to talk to your brother,” I try and explain without giving too much away. “And she… lost her cat. And then I lost my dog. And yes, that’s how I ended up here.” Or something along those lines anyway. Yes, I’m rambling, and probably sound insane, and he’s never going to want to visit my café again. Oh well, might as well go out with a bang now. “She wanted to talk to Spencer and you didn’t want me to see you so you hid in the bush across the

road from my house?” My mouth drops open. “That’s quite an assumption there, Sylar.” But yes, he hit the nail on the head. “Why wouldn’t I want you to see me?” I ask, trying to play it off. I can’t believe he called me out like this. Does he know that for some unexplainable reason I just want to be in his presence? He should take it as a compliment. I can’t remember the last time I chased a man. Have I ever? I didn’t even chase Eric, he came after me. Maybe in my old age, I’ve lost all my dignity, too. Well, this sucks. He does something that surprises me then. He grins. It’s devastating. In fact, it makes everything that just happened worth it. “What am I going to do with you, Brielle?” he murmurs, eyes scanning my face in such a way that butterflies appear in my stomach. Kiss me, maybe? When he starts chuckling, I realize I said that out loud. I cover my face with my hands. “I need a do over. Today needs to start again, and this time I’m just going to stay in bed.” A warm hand cups my nape, gently. “Come on, how about I make you a coffee for once.” I let my hands drop from my face to look at him. He shrugs a little sheepishly and adds, “It’s not going to be as good though.” “That’s okay,” I whisper, mesmerized by everything that is he. “Hopefully those two are still clothed,” he mutters under his breath, letting go of my nape and placing his hand on my lower back, gently leading me across the road. Clothed? Christina wouldn’t…. Oh, who am I kidding? She so would. He opens his front door, which is unlocked, and I step into his house, taking everything in. As we walk to the kitchen, I notice that the house is very spacious, and sparsely decorated. It looks like no one lives here, because there is no mess, and no personal touches. I sit down on a bar stool in the kitchen while he grabs two mugs and starts to make some instant coffee. I can’t remember the last time I had any. I’m wondering where the hell Snoop is when he asks, “How many sugars?” “Two, please,” I reply, watching his hands work. “I’m really sorry about this whole”—I wave my hands around—“thing.” “It’s not every day you find a beautiful woman hiding in a bush,” he murmurs, eyes cast downwards. “Why do I have a feeling you get yourself into a lot of trouble?” “I mean, I’m alive,” I say, shrugging. “I can’t be doing so badly. And I wouldn’t say it was trouble, more like… shenanigans. We live in a small, boring town. How much trouble can we really get into?”

Blue eyes rise and clash with mine. “More than you know.” The look in his eyes is a warning, but I don’t understand it. Is he warning me away from him? “I think I like you,” I blurt out, too far gone to care, too intrigued to lose my only chance to tell him. “I mean, I want to get to know you. Will you tell me about you?” He slides one mug in my direction. “Thanks,” I tell him. “You’re welcome,” he says, picking up his own. When he doesn’t say anything else, I ask, “What are you thinking about right now?” “I’m wondering why out of all the men in this town, you think you like me,” he says, a muscle working in his jaw. “Because, Brielle, trust me when I say that I’m the worst one.” I always did have terrible taste in men.

Chapter Six “You can’t say something like that and then not tell me why,” I say, following him outside, where I find Snoop running on the grass. Where the hell is Christina? “Can’t you just take my word for it?” he asks, gesturing for me to sit down before he does. He’s a fucking gentleman so he can’t be that bad, can he? I go by actions, not words. So he can go on about how he’s the big bad wolf, but until I see it for my own eyes, I’m not going to heed any of his warnings. I probably should, but I’m stubborn, and I stupidly believe in the good in people. I’m a fixer. “No.” “I have a past, Brielle. I’m not worthy of what I see in your eyes when you look at me.” My eyes widen as those words leave his lips. Am I so openly read? “What do you see?” I ask him, unable to remove my gaze from his. “Curiosity,” he says, then clears his throat. “Lust. Want. Need.” “You just say anything, don’t you?” I say, sighing. “And you don’t? I like open honesty. It’s a lot better than playing games, don’t you think?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee then putting the mug down on the floor. “I don’t know what you want from me, Brielle, but I can’t give it to you. No one ever tries to talk to me, or wants to get to know me. Why do you? Why can’t you just be like everyone else?” “Why would anyone want to be like everyone else?” I fire back. “Why do you try to hide yourself by wearing loose black clothing, by covering your face as much as you can? Why don’t you want any attention?” “That’s quite an assumption,” he says, using my previous words against me. “I don’t claim to know anything about you, Sylar,” I say, shifting on my seat. “Just that I want to. Is that so bad? Am I so unappealing that you’d never want to spend time with me?” I’m laying myself bare here. He can reject me, and I’m just going to have to live with that. At least I took a chance, put myself out there. The worst he can say is no, and then I go on with my life. It’s fine. We’ve only just met, so it’s not hard to walk away, yet the draw with him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Everything in me is telling me that this is where I should be. Who am I to ignore that? “You’re not unappealing,” he says in a low tone. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Brielle.” My breath hitches. I’m about to reply when I hear my best friend’s laugh echoing through the house. Snoop runs up to me and sits next to my leg, tongue lolling around after having more than his share of exercise. I pick him up and place him on my lap. He thinks I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he’s still warning me away from him?

Why? “I don’t get you,” I tell him. “You need to just ask me out.” “Ask you out?” he repeats, dragging each word out as if foreign. “Yes,” I say, determined to have my way. “On a date. So we can get to know each other better, and so I can make my own judgment of you.” “So I can get attached to you before you decide I’m not good enough?” he asks, laughing bitterly. “No, Brielle, I’d rather not know you.” Now it’s him giving so much away with just his words. Why would he think he’d not be good enough? No one should feel that way. I don’t care what people have done in the past, the past doesn’t define anyone, only the present does. And right now, I don’t see him being a bad person. Then again, what do I know? I’m only seeing what I want to see. “You can’t never let anyone in, Sylar,” I say softly, his words hitting me. I thought I was bad, that my walls were high, but they have nothing on his. Who is this man before me, and what is he hiding? “Bree?” Christina calls, spotting me through the kitchen window. She comes outside, unable to hide her cringe. “What are you doing here? Did you come out looking for Kitty too?” “Something like that,” I say, telling her with my eyes that I’m going to kill her the second we’re alone. Spencer walks out behind her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Well, what do we have here?” Sylar keeps his eyes on me, not bothering to look at his brother. I really hope the fact I was hiding behind a bush doesn’t come out, but if it does, it will probably be Christina who brings it up. “We’re going out to grab something to eat, why don’t the two of you join us?” Spencer asks, studying Sylar. “Brielle and I have other plans,” Sylar announces, causing me to sit up straighter in surprise. We do? “I’ll meet you back at yours then?” Christina asks me, waiting for me to give her my eyes. When I do, she searches them, as if making sure I’m all right. “Yeah, sounds good.” “Call me if you need anything,” she says, “anything” implying anything from a condom to a shovel. “Noted.” The two of them leave, chatting like they’ve known each other for years, and I wonder how come it’s so easy for some people. It’s never that easy for me. Snoop jumps out of my arms and goes over to Sylar, who picks him up and gives him a pat. “Weird looking dog,” he says, but his eyes are gentle. “Hey,” I say playfully. “Watch what you say about my dog.” He grins, and an almost boyish look appears on his face. “I always wanted a German Shepherd.”

“Why didn’t you get one?” I ask. His expression suddenly shutters. “I wasn’t allowed any pets as a kid, and afterwards… I travelled a lot. It wouldn’t be fair on the dog.” “What about right now then?” I ask him, tilting my head and studying him. “You are planning on staying here for a while, aren’t you?” He nods slowly, which gives me the impression he isn’t really sure. Maybe he doesn’t want to get close to anyone because he doesn’t know if he’s staying, or maybe he just doesn’t want to get close to me. Maybe I’m not even his type. That’s quite a sobering thought. If anything, we could be friends. I think I’d like that, to have him in my life in some way, any way I can take him. I can’t explain it, but I just get the feeling that we’re meant to know each other. And in a way that most people don’t. I’m not a spiritual person, so this isn’t something I’ve ever experienced before. I don’t believe in fate. I believe that you make your own way, and it’s your decisions that decide where and how you end up; however, something in me is telling me I need to be near him. I’m not going to question it. “Are you close with your brother?” I find myself asking, absorbing any information about him I can get. “Spencer, yes,” he says, putting Snoop down. “I have another brother, too. I’m not so close with him.” “Why?” I ask, wondering if he will answer. When he doesn’t, I ask a question of my own. “What’s his name?” “Sebastian. He’s a doctor,” he says, no emotion in his tone. “Now, what did you say you wanted me to do? Right, ask you out. So, Brielle, would you like to go on a date with me? Maybe we could go to the beach or something. I don’t know. What do you usually do on dates?” I squirm a little as he watches me with those intense pale blues. “I don’t know, maybe grab a drink or something, I guess. I haven’t been on a date in a pretty long time.” I notice that he changed the subject away from his brother, and I let him. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he doesn’t have to. It’s curious that you can be so close to one sibling and not to another. And a doctor? That’s quite impressive. “Why?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. “Do the men here have bad taste?” “Something like that,” I say, smiling warmly at him for the compliment. “A walk on the beach sounds perfect, Sylar. Can we stop at my house and drop Snoop off? I think he’s had enough exercise for one day.” “I think he needs more,” Sylar says, smirking, but then adds, “Yes, of course we can do that.” I all but bullied him into spending time with me, and I just hope it’s what he wants, and that he isn’t doing it just because he’s a nice guy, even though he keeps telling me he isn’t. When I think back to the

first few times I saw him in the café, I guess I wouldn’t have thought of him as a nice guy either. He was quiet, and not very polite, but he was never rude. He just kept to himself, which isn’t a crime. Some people like to be invisible. What I want to know is why Sylar likes it. “He’s meant to be a little chubby,” I huff, picking him up and following Sylar to the front yard, where his black truck is. He opens the door for me, which I find charming, then waits for me and Snoop to climb in before shutting it. Sad, but I can’t remember the last time a man did that for me. “Alarm” by AnneMarie plays on the radio as I tell him which house is mine. I love this song. He stops and waits while I drop Snoop off inside, then return to his truck. “You have a nice house,” he tells me as he gets back onto the road. “You said you were renovating it?” “Yes.” I nod. “I like that you remember that.” He grins and says, “If you need any help, just let me know. I have a lot of spare time these days.” “That’s what retirement is all about, right?” “I like that you remember that,” he says, darting his eyes to me before returning to the road. I laugh at him. “Are you always going to use my words against me?” “Probably,” he says, running his hand over his beard. “And thanks for the offer,” I tell him. “I might have to take you up on it. I can only do so much by learning from videos on the Internet.” He shakes his head. “That’s what you’ve been doing? Just tell me what you need. Spence and I will get it done.” “I can’t ask you to do that,” I say, brow furrowing. “It wouldn’t be right. I’ll do what I can but if I get really stuck, it’s nice to know I can call on you for backup.” “I’ll come inside and see what I’ll need,” he says, ignoring me. “It will be fun.” “Fun?” I ask, quirking my brow. “That’s your definition of fun?” “Sure,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t drink, or do drugs or anything like that. Not much of a partier. I like to be productive. I like to run, to train, and I like working with my hands.” I wonder what else he’s good at with his hands. Okay, mind out of the gutter, Brielle. “Train?” I ask, wondering what he means. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve done mixed martial arts my whole life, so sometimes Spence and I will mess around. I don’t want to become sloppy.” “I like to drink sometimes,” I say, interested in his reaction. “That’s fine,” he says, not fazed. “It’s just not for me.” Is he a control freak? I have a feeling that he is, and that’s why he doesn’t drink. Either way, I’m not going to judge him on his choices, just like he didn’t judge me on mine. “Noted,” I say, watching the road.

I’m going to the beach. With Sylar. I guess I owe Christina a thank you after all, because without her scheme, Sylar and I would still be strangers.

Chapter Seven “So what brought you to town?” I ask him, shoes in my hand as my feet enjoy the sand beneath them. “We were left the house,” he explains, looking out to the ocean. “So we decided to come here and check it out, and we liked the place. The beaches are beautiful here, and the views. It’s quiet, which I like, so we thought we’d try spending some time here. How about you?” “I’ve always lived here,” I admit, hating that fact. It sounds sad, like I tried to get out but never made it. “I did a little travelling, but I always came home. My parents left me their house and the café, and I don’t want to sell either, so I ended up just staying, I guess.” It might not be spectacular, but it’s home. My friends are here, and I have everything I need. I can’t complain, and I usually don’t. “Why are you single?” he asks, looking down at his feet as the water covers up to his ankles. My eyes widen at the question, and my mind races as I think of how to answer it. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t met anyone worthy of my time. How about you?” He stops and faces me, lifting his hand to push away an errand lock of hair that has escaped my braid. “I’m complicated, I suppose.” “Complicated or picky?” I ask, glancing up at him, shielding my face from the sun with my hand. “Were you ever going to come back into the café?” “I don’t know,” he says, dropping his hand. “I wanted to, but I don’t know if I would have.” “Because of me, or because of the coffee?” “Both,” he says, lip twitching. His voice is gruff, but his words are only ever eloquent. He hasn’t sworn once yet. My voice, on the other hand, is sweet and soft, but I’ve been known to cuss like a sailor. “Why wouldn’t you come back if you wanted to?” I ask, taking a step closer to him so our bodies are almost touching. “That doesn’t make any sense, Sylar. All we shared were a few reluctant words. At least, reluctant on your behalf.” Again, I don’t get an answer, at least not a proper one. He just says, “Because it would be easier that way,” and takes my hand in his and leads me along the beach. I like this better.

***** “What do you think hurts more, a tattoo or anal?” Christina asks, making me choke on my morning coffee. “What the hell made you ask that? Jesus, Christina. You’re lucky there are no customers in right

now.” I groan, shaking my head at her. “Okay, stop acting like a prude. I’m asking because I’m curious. I’d like to do both in the future, and I’m wondering which one I should tackle first. The one that hurts the least, right?” “I’ve never done either of them, so why are you asking me?” I ask her, unable to hold in my laughter. “Seriously, the shit you say. We need our own reality TV show.” She grins and agrees. “We do. Especially now that we have some eye candy.” She told me all about her time with Spencer, and yes, they did end up sleeping together. Apparently he’s a god in bed—her words not mine—and they are seeing each other again tonight. I told her about my time with Sylar, which was much more innocent. We spent the day talking and getting to know each other. We held hands. We flirted. But that’s it. And that’s okay with me. In fact, it was perfect. He didn’t ask for my number though, so I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again. I just know that we will. “I say go for the tattoo first,” I tell her, winking. “Yeah, okay,” she says, touching her shoulder. “I want a sleeve, so it’s going to hurt like a bitch.” Elijah walks out the front at that moment, smirking at Christina. “How high is your pain tolerance?” She winces, and I start laughing again. “She started crying the other day because her nail broke.” “Hey! That hurt really badly, okay? Half of it pretty much ripped off!” she says defensively, looking at her fingernail. “Bree wouldn’t even take me to the emergency room. What kind of friend is she?” “A normal one,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “Maybe start with a small butterfly or something, instead of going for a sleeve to take your virginity.” “I cried during that too,” she says, smirking at both of us. “It hurt.” Elijah rubs the back of his neck. “I feel like we need some boundaries in here.” “Face it, we have none,” I say, returning to wiping down the counter. “At least Charlie isn’t in today, to hear her carrying on. He’d probably run out in front of a car. I’ve had to listen to her describe her sexcapades in detail. Details, Elijah. I don’t want to know how many times my best friend can come in one night.” She holds up four fingers. Elijah winces and scrubs a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay. I’m going to go out the back now.” He turns and leaves. I put the cloth down and cross my arms over my chest. “Did Spencer say anything about Sylar?” “Nope, but he seemed happy to see the two of you together,” she says, resting her hip against the counter. “I get the feeling he’s a bit of a loner.” “Did you admit to Spencer that there was no missing cat?” I ask, since I forgot to before. “No,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t want him to think I’m crazy. He can never know the truth. As far as he’s concerned, I lost my ginger cat named Kitty, and although a sad and traumatic event, it brought the two of us back together.”

“Did he say why he didn’t call in the first place?” “He said he lost my number,” she says, shrugging. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but when he opened the door, he looked happy and surprised to see me. Let’s just enjoy what time we have with them, Bree, because I think we both know these men aren’t the type to stick around long-term. Spencer is here for a good time, not a long time, and Sylar…. I don’t know what he is, but he will go where his brother does.” Her words are probably true, and I don’t like the idea of Sylar leaving town, but it is what it is. “By the way, you realize that you just had your first day date, right?” she says, arching her brow. “Not a drop of alcohol involved.” “I guess you’re right,” I murmur, wondering what makes Sylar so different. He’s my exception, it seems, and it’s quite a scary thought that he already has a hold over me. I don’t like it, but I crave it at the same time. I haven’t felt in so long. Anything. I haven’t felt anything. I think that’s why I crave him so much, because around him, I feel. Why does that feel like I’m using him or something? I don’t even know. It’s like I’ve been living in black and white, but he’s brought back colour. I don’t want anyone to have power over me again, but I don’t want to go back to how I was living before I laid eyes on him, either. If I’m feeling like this after spending just one day with him, how deep am I going to get as we go on? Opening yourself up is such a gamble, and I don’t know how anyone does it these days. Maybe they just need to find their exception. Christina closes the space between us and cups my cheeks with her palms. “My baby is all grown up.” “Because I went on a date that I wasn’t drunk on?” “Yep.” I smile, my cheeks going all squishy with her hands still on my face. “That’s pretty sad.” “You were a sad woman,” she says, letting go of my face with a cheeky grin. Customers start to file in, and we all go into work mode. Yet, in the back of the mind, pale blue eyes never seem to fade.

***** “Hey,” I say, smiling when Spencer walks into the café just as I’m about to close up. He’s my last customer for the day. Sylar came in earlier, but the place was packed so I didn’t get to chat. Still, in the few moments he was in here, I couldn’t stop smiling. I saw him smile once, too. He was wearing all black as usual, but jeans and a V-neck T-shirt this time. He looked good. “You’re just in time. Five more minutes and I would have been closed,” I say, standing at the counter. “Do you want the usual?” “Yes, please,” he says, studying me. Spencer is a less intense version of his brother, but I can tell that underneath, he isn’t all charm and gentle nature.

“One or two?” I ask, wondering if Sylar wants another. “Two, just to be safe,” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter. “So, Brielle,” he starts, and I know he wants to talk about something. “Yeah?” I ask, giving him my full attention. “Sylar,” he says, shifting on his feet. “He doesn’t usually show interest. In anyone, or anything… and —” “I’m not going to hurt your brother, Spencer,” I say, assuming that is what he’s getting at, but as the words leave my mouth, I realize how egotistical they sound, like I’m assuming I have the power to do so. “If that’s what you’re getting at.” “Yeah, okay,” he says, but still looks a little worried, his brow furrowed. “I’m glad he’s actually speaking to you and everything, I just don’t want it to backfire.” He puts his hands up. “Not saying that you don’t seem like a nice girl…. Ah, fuck. I’m messing this up, aren’t I? And if he finds out I said anything, the bastard will kill me with his bare hands.” “You don’t want what to backfire?” I ask, brow furrowing. “Him opening up,” he says, wincing. “And me encouraging it.” My lip twitches. “It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have anything to worry about.” “Good,” he says, smiling as I slide his coffees over to him. He tries to pay, but I don’t accept it, just like I did with Sylar today. “On the house.” He leaves the money on the table. “Not happening. Thank you, though.” I roll my eyes. Sylar did the exact same thing. I walk him to the door, then lock it behind him. He wants to protect Sylar from me? I think it’s me who is going to need the protecting.

Chapter Eight “Why does everyone act like I suck men’s souls as a hobby?” Christina asks, pursing her pouty lips. “I have the least hearts in my jar.” She looks at me. “In fact, you have more.” “I do not,” I say defensively, although she’s probably right. After Eric, I did break more than a few hearts, not on purpose, but because I had no idea who I was or what I wanted then. I was selfish, and I shouldn’t have been dating at all. All I wanted was a distraction; my heart was broken and therefore no one else could touch it. I was safe, but I was also cold, and the men I dated didn’t deserve that. No one does. “You so do,” she says, licking her ice-cream cone. “Charlie sent me out of the house because his friends are coming over. What am I going to do to his friends, exactly?” “He probably doesn’t want to see them check you out,” I say, smirking. “Aren’t his friends all nerds? You’re probably the first woman they’ll have seen up close in real life.” “Nerdy guys are hot,” Christina says, eyes going wide. “But I’d never go near any of his friends, just like I’d expect the same from him with my friends.” She looks at me. “Not that I have many apart from you.” “And Charlie is safe from me,” I add with a smirk, changing the channel on the TV. “Everyone is besides Sylar,” she teases, biting into the crunchy ice-cream cone. “Oh by the way, I invited him and Spencer over here for drinks tonight.” “What?” I yell, jumping up off the couch. “Please tell me you’re joking. Is this you trying to be funny?” She starts laughing. “Calm down. The house is clean.” I glance around frantically. “The house is friends-visiting-level clean, it’s not Sylar-level clean. There’s a huge difference.” She watches with dry amusement as I rush around, cleaning the house, shoving things into drawers so it looks less cluttered, and trying to make the house look like no one lives here. “You have serious issues,” she mutters, tidying up the pillows on the couch for me. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d go straight into a cleaning frenzy and panic mode. Relax. Your house is clean, and I don’t think he’d really care if it wasn’t perfect.” “It’s about me caring, not him,” I say, dusting a table. “I need it to be clean.” I pause. “If they’re coming over for drinks, don’t we need to actually go out and buy some?” “Probably a good idea,” she says, wincing. She then stands and grabs her keys. “I’ll do a store run. What do we need?” Sylar doesn’t drink alcohol, so what would he have instead? Juice? Coffee? I can’t imagine him

sitting there, all manly looking with a mocktail in his hand. The mere thought makes me laugh. “Are you losing your mind over boys coming over to chill?” Christina asks me, being dead serious. I roll my eyes at her, then grab a piece of paper and write up a quick list. When I hand it to her, she reaches out and pats my arm. “It will be okay, Bree. I’ve got this.” I wave her away and continue to clean. This is the first time Sylar will be coming to my house, and fuck me if I don’t want to make a good impression. Should I cook something? Men like food. Or is that putting in too much effort? I probably shouldn’t set unrealistic expectations, because I don’t cook that much. Okay I’m definitely overthinking this. I finish tidying up and then wait for Christina to return with the goods. Now that the place is clean, I can look forward to having Sylar in my space. He didn’t come in last time, even though he said he wanted to check out the work that needs to be done, and I was happy that he didn’t. I like to be prepared for these things. When Christina takes longer than I thought she would, I decide to jump in the shower. Might as well start getting pretty.

***** I’m in my towel when I hear her in the kitchen, so I venture out. “Hey, what took you so long?” I ask, combing my damp hair with my fingers. I come to a standstill when I see not just Christina in the kitchen, but Sylar and Spencer as well. Fuck. I look down, making sure the towel is indeed covering my breasts. “Look who I ran into,” Christina says, cringing. “Great welcome,” Spencer says, eyes wide. Sylar slaps him on the back of his head, gets up, and blocks the view of me with his huge body, his back to the others. Looking down at me, he murmurs, “You going to go put some clothes on, or just stand there looking like a deer in headlights?” “The former, I guess,” I say, peering over his body to flash an evil look in my best friend’s direction. She could have warned me! “Come on,” he says, turning me around and pushing me with a hand on the small of my back. I walk to my room, and he comes in and closes the door behind him. “She tried to call you and tell you we were coming, but you didn’t answer.” “Oh,” I say, licking my suddenly dry lips. He’s in my room. I’m in nothing but a towel. And I haven’t had sex in a very long time. And it’s not just any guy—it’s him. I swallow hard, and tighten the towel around me. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I meant in my house, but did it sound like I meant in my room? He closes the space between us and cups my face. “You look beautiful with no make-up on.” “Thanks,” I whisper, my heart starting to race. “Get dressed. I just wanted to warn you that my brother bought Christina a kitten to replace the pet she lost. He’s going to give it to her tonight.” “He got her a kitten?” I ask, not sure that I heard right. Sylar nods. “She was upset, so….” He shrugs, smiles, then leaves my room. He got her a kitten. She hates cats. I smirk. I’m going to enjoy watching this play out.

***** I re-emerge in jeans and a white T-shirt, and Christina hands me a glass of red wine as I sit down next to Sylar on the couch. A movie is playing, and there are drinks and a platter on the table. She has done well hosting in my absence. “So Spencer apparently has a surprise for me,” she says, smiling and snuggling up to him. I nod, but couldn’t contain my smirk if I tried. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.” Sylar hides his grin behind his glass of what looks like orange juice. Meanwhile, Spencer is practically inhaling his beer. Apparently he has no problems with alcohol. I sit back and realize how weird this situation actually is, two best friends and two brothers hanging out. Those two all over each other while Sylar and I have no idea what to do with each other. Maybe he just wants to be friends; I don’t know. I get mixed signals from him, and I have absolutely no clue what goes on in that mind of his. “I had a little look around,” Sylar says to me, bringing my attention back to him. “I can definitely help you fix this place up, if you want me to.” “Okay,” I say, flashing him a small smile. While Christina and Spencer disappear into their own world, Sylar and I do the same. I move a little closer to him, so my thigh is touching his, and lay my head back. “Did you finish everything you had to do yesterday?” He nods. “I did. The café was busy when I came in. I’m happy you’re doing so well.” “We have a morning and lunch rush every day,” I explain. “I try and make sure we have two people out the back and two out the front when it hits, but sometimes I get the timing wrong.” I take a sip of my wine then continue, “Running a business isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.” Humour dances in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s meant to be fun, Brielle. It’s meant to be profitable.” “Can’t it be both?” “It seems like you’ve made it that way. I remember walking in one morning and seeing you and Christina singing into a broom.”

I wince, remembering that morning. “Great, we’re unprofessional, too. When the place is empty, we do tend to mess around a little, but whenever we have customers around we’re on our best behaviour.” “They love your coffee around here,” he says, putting his glass down on my coffee table. “How do you think I found you in the first place? I went to pump some petrol and the man at the counter kept raving on about the best coffee place in town.” I’m pretty sure that man is my uncle, and he’s biased, but I smile at his compliment. “Well, I’m glad you decided to give it a try.” “Me too.” “Why are you single?” I ask softly, using the question he asked me on the beach. “If someone as perfect as you is single, what kind of chance is there for a man like me?” he asks, watching me. The look in his eyes is curious, intense. He’s serious, but he wants to know what I think. I think that he’s intrigued by me, but he doesn’t know if he’s making a mistake by being here tonight. I feel like he struggles with himself every time he sees me. I don’t like that, and I don’t want him to do that. He doesn’t want to regret his decisions, but neither do I. “And what kind of man is that?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes. “Not a good one,” he replies simply, like he’s reciting a fact. He truly thinks he is a bad man. “Will you tell me why you think that?” I ask, wishing to know. He looks down at his hands and turns them over so they’re palm up. “I’ve just done bad things, Brielle. I want to move forward now, but it’s hard.” “Maybe I can help you,” I say, and clear my throat. I realize how stupid that might sound, but I mean it. I’d help him in any way I can. “I mean, I can listen if you need someone to talk to. With no judgment.” His lips tighten. “You’re the last person I’d want to have hear about these things, Brielle.” “I shouldn’t be,” I say, taking his hand in mine and squeezing gently. “Tell me something about you, Sylar.” “I’d much rather hear about you,” he says, running his thumb over my knuckles. “How about I start, but then you have to give me something. It doesn’t need to be deep. It could be something small, like your favourite colour or the places you’ve travelled to,” I say, expression gentle. “Okay,” he says, shoulders relaxing. I smile and tell him that my favourite colour is black, and that I’ve always wanted to go to Las Vegas. I tell him that I’ve only been in one serious relationship, and that it left me scarred, but not broken. I tell him that one day I’d love to go snowboarding, and I tell him about my wonderful relationship with my parents. He tells me that his father died when he was ten, and that his uncle took him and his two brothers in. He can’t remember his mother. Sebastian chose med school, while he and Spencer had no choice but to go into the family business, although he doesn’t say what that is. His favourite colour was grey, although he said now he thinks it’s green. Green, like my eyes?

I blush at the thought. I ask him what emotion he feels the most. He tells me it’s guilt. I don’t ask why, but I want to know. What has he done to feel so guilty?

Chapter Nine One Month Later “Spencer told me he could get lost in these eyes of mine for days,” Christina announces on a sigh. “Your eyes are cold and lifeless,” Charlie says, scowling, making me and Elijah crack up laughing. “Shut up, Charlie,” she says, huffing. “I didn’t even know you were standing there.” “Clearly,” he says in a dry tone, then looks to me. “What do you think of the guy, Bree?” “That’s her future brother-in-law, so she’s a little biased,” Christina says, wiggling her eyebrows at me. Charlie flashes me a droll look, like he expected better from me or something. “The two of you have horrible taste in men.” “Maybe that’s why we’re friends,” Christina suggests. “We have that in common. Friendship is based on mutual interests. We should start a group. For women with terrible choice in men to vent to each other.” “I can’t even deal with you,” I tell her, shoulders shaking as I try and contain my laughter. “Stop egging him on.” “I can’t believe you didn’t give me a chance, but you gave creepy hot guy a chance,” Elijah grumbles, shaking his head. “And then when he breaks your heart, you’re going to say that there are no good men out there.” He points to himself. “Even though one was standing here the whole time! Sure, I might have a little tattoo envy, but I can already tell that he’s bad news.” “All right, everyone calm down,” I say, rolling my eyes at their theatrics. Did I only hire people with dramatic flair? It seems that way. “I’m not going to spend this shift chatting about my love life.” Or lack thereof. It’s been a month since Sylar’s been in my life, and we haven’t even kissed. Why won’t he kiss me? Am I that unkissable? I touch my lips with my index finger. He needs to kiss me. Or maybe I’m playing it all wrong and need to take things into my own hands. “What are you thinking about?” Christina asks me. I drop my finger from my lips. “Just wondering how Whiskers is doing.” She makes a face. “He’s shitting and pissing all over my house.” “That’s what you get for lying about losing a cat,” I say, smirking at her. When Spencer gave her the kitten as a gift, I thought she was going to cry, and not from happy tears. I know she will look after him though. Deep inside, Christina has a heart of gold. “I’m thinking about pretending I lost him, too.” Deep, deep inside. “He’s cute,” I say, shrugging. “And pets are forever. He’s family now. You can’t get rid of family,

and you don’t always like them either.” “True,” she replies, sending a look in her brother’s direction. “Okay, we need to do some work. Elijah, you do the stocktake. Charlie, you do the store run. Christina, you clean the restaurant.” “Okay,” they all grumble, leaving me alone to my thoughts. We’ve been seeing each other nearly every day, getting to know each other and enjoying each other’s company, so why doesn’t he want to take things further? I mean, we hold hands and touch each other, so it’s clearly more than a friendship, but we aren’t lovers, because he hasn’t touched me in a sexual way. Still, I do just like being around him. I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a long time. Sylar is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and anyone I probably will ever meet. Still, if I have to hear about Christina’s epic sex life with his brother again, I’m going to have to scream. After work I head straight home and find Sylar’s car there. With his help, I’ve done more work on the house than ever before, and it’s starting to look amazing. Sylar and Spencer both know so much about trade work, and I’m learning so much from the two of them. “Hey,” I say, walking over to him as we both get out of our cars. He opens his arms and I go right to him, resting my head on his chest, his arms wrapping me in his safety and warmth. “How was work?” he asks, kissing the top of my head. Okay, so that he will do, but his lips haven’t touched mine just yet. “Not bad,” I say, closing my eyes. “How was your day?” “Went into work,” he says, referring to his part-time construction gig. “Then wanted to see you. Can I take you out for dinner tonight? Wherever you want to go.” I smile against the soft material of his T-shirt. “I’d like that. Let me have a quick shower and get changed first.” I step away from him, but take his hand in mine as I walk to my front door and unlock it, refusing to let go of him. He chuckles as I try to open it and fail. Eventually he lets go of me, takes the key, and does it for me. He’s laughing a lot more, I’ve noticed. And sometimes his smile touches his eyes. Sometimes. We walk inside and I put my keys down on my kitchen table, along with my handbag. When I glance up at him, I don’t know what he sees on my face, but his expression turns concerned, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I say quickly, shaking my head. Maybe a little too quickly. “Brielle,” he says, voice low and stern. “Tell me.” I clear my throat and decide to just go for it. Complete honesty. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I

look him straight in the eye and say, “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” I see his eyes widen as he processes my words. He blinks a few times, runs his hand down his beard. “You’re upset because I… haven’t kissed you?” I nod, then add, “It’s been weeks. Are you not attracted to me or something? I mean, I know you always compliment me and tell me I’m beautiful, but—” He cuts off my rant with his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, and his hands cupping my face. His lips fit perfectly over mine, his taste addicting, his hold on me possessive and gentle at the same time. A devastating combination. When he breaks the kiss, pale blue eyes lock with mine. For once his emotions aren’t hidden. For just a moment, I see me how he does. I see the want, the need. The fascination. He looks at me like I’m perfect, like I’m rare. Like I’m his. “That was worth the wait,” I breathe, my eyes still heavy lidded as the post-kiss haze hasn’t left me. I don’t think it ever will. In fact, I need more of it right now. I go up on my tiptoes and pull his head down to me, so our lips are close but not touching. “Does this mean I get to kiss you whenever I want now?” I see his throat work as he swallows. What is going on in that mind of his? Was this a way of keeping his distance from me? If it was, it’s now over. He can’t kiss me like that and not expect me to want it again. Over and over. Every chance I’m able to. Fuck, I’m addicted. I close the space between us and kiss his lips softly, hesitantly at first, retreating a little before diving in and kissing him fully. He lets me. With a growl from deep in his throat, he takes control and deepens the kiss, hands on my waist, fingers digging into my skin. I knew we’d have this chemistry from the moment I laid eyes on him, because I’ve never felt drawn to someone like that before. In fact, if you’d asked me before I would have told you that that kind of instant attraction and allure didn’t exist. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I say against his lips, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against his. In a quick move, he lifts me and places me on the counter, probably so he doesn’t have to bend so much, since he’s so tall. “Not upset anymore?” he asks in a husky tone, eyes as gentle as I’ve ever seen them. I shake my head. “Good.” “I better go get ready,” I say, before I drag him to my bedroom. I kiss him once more, just because I can, then jump down and head to my room. “Brielle?” he calls as I’m about to leave the room. “Yeah?” “Don’t ever think that I don’t want you,” he says, shifting on his feet. “It’s not that. I just… am at war with myself over what I have and what I should have. I wanted to kiss you from the moment I first saw you.”

“Sylar—” “Go get ready,” he says gently, smiling sadly. He doesn’t want to explain his comment, but he’s given me what he can. I don’t want to push him; he can tell me everything when he’s comfortable. It’s his choice, his story to tell. “Okay,” I whisper, then jump in the shower. I replay the kisses over and over again while I wash my body, squeezing my thighs together in frustration. If I can feel this from just his lips on mine…. I can’t wait for what’s to come.

Chapter Ten After dinner, we head back to my house. As he’s walking me to the door, I feel bold enough to ask, “Do you want to stay the night?” He stills. “Brielle—” I place my hand on his chest. “Sylar, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle, or whatever.” I don’t think I’ve ever had to talk a guy into my bed by telling him he’s safe from me. From his previous comment, it seems like he feels like he doesn’t deserve anything from me. I feel like he’s slowly allowing himself to enjoy us more and more, to not feel so guilty about being happy, but I don’t think he realizes that he’s also punishing me by resisting. Okay, that’s a pretty dramatic thing to say. And selfish. God, his kisses make my mind go all mushy. He doesn’t say anything, but comes inside with me and sits on my bed while I take my eye make-up off and brush my teeth. I remove my clothes and throw on my black PJ pants and singlet top, assuming it’s something safe, not too sexy, just comfortable. He’s shirtless upon my return, and it’s all I can do not to stare. I’ve never seen his bare body before. Ever. His tanned skin is smooth and hairless. Aside from a few scars, which in my opinion only add to his beauty, his body is sheer perfection. “Wow,” I mouth, eyes wide as saucers. “Those are abs. In real life. Yeah, wow.” Okay, I knew his body was hard as a rock, but I didn’t expect… this. I didn’t realize he’s so muscular. He shakes his head at me, like he’s finding my whole reaction amusing, then pats the bed beside him. I sit down next to him. We look at each other. He reaches his hand out and cups my face. “You are so perfect, just like this.” “I’m not perfect, Sylar,” I whisper. “No one is.” I look down at his stomach and let my fingers trace his abs. “Okay, some people are.” “I’m not a good sleeper,” he admits. “That’s fine because I sleep like a log,” I say, shrugging. “Unless you need me. Then please, wake me.” “You’re a deep sleeper?” I nod. “Yeah, I can pretty much sleep through anything.”

“I won’t disturb you?” he asks, looking unsure. I gently tug on his beard. “You won’t, and if you do, I don’t mind.” “I mind,” he says, sighing. “Sometimes I just can’t sleep, so I’ll get up and wander around the house, or work out.” “So that explains the abs.” “Brielle, concentrate,” he chastises, making me giggle a little. “You can wander around my house, you can work out, you can do anything you like. Make yourself at home. If you really hate it, then I won’t ask you to sleep over again, okay?” He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult.” “That’s meant to be my line,” I joke, running my hand over his shoulder. “You can’t fix me.” “I’m not trying to. I’m trying to be with you just as you are.” “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he says, making a sound of frustration. “You’re extremely stubborn, you know that?” “Yep.” “Brielle?” “Yes, Sylar.” “Come here,” he growls, pushing me back on the bed and kissing me hungrily. I run my fingers down his bare back, wishing my T-shirt was off, so I could feel his bare skin against mine. But I’ll take what I can get. My breasts press against his chest and I can feel my nipples pebble. I’m so turned on, but it’s up to him to make the move, to take what he wants, because I don’t want to push him into doing something that he regrets afterwards. I might not be the most patient woman in the world, but I know Sylar is different to other men. He breaks the kiss and looks down at me. “I love kissing you.” I smile and reach up to touch his face. “Me too.” “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can test my resolve,” he whispers, then shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you, Brielle?” Love me? Fuck me? Never let me go? I could name a few things, not that I’d vocalize any of them. I kiss him in answer, pulling him down on me, loving the feel of his weight. He lets me roll him over onto his back so I’m on top. His eyes never leave me, and I like that. It’s intense, and it’s powerful. I feel so giddy when he looks at me like that, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, like he’s so fascinated and amazed by my mere presence. To see that in the eyes of a man so rough around the edges, so guarded, is something I’ll never forget.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” I tell him. “They were the first thing I noticed about you.” His lips kick up at the corners in obvious amusement. “What?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve heard the word beautiful being applied to me in my life,” he says in a low tone, his hands running down my back. “You’re something else, Brielle. You bring out a side of me I didn’t even know existed.” He pauses, then says, “I’ve never felt anything like this before.” I know exactly what he means. “Me either,” I reply with full honesty, and I don’t really know what it is. It’s more than just lust, than just mutual attraction. It’s visceral. That’s the only word I can use to try and explain it. I climb beneath the sheets and he does the same. “I like having you in my bed.” “I like being here,” he rumbles, pulling me into his arms. “Anywhere you are.” I fall asleep with a smile on my lips.

***** I wake up in the middle of the night, and Sylar isn’t in bed. I know he won’t like it if he thinks he woke me up, but I find myself getting up to see what he’s doing. I find him on the couch, TV on, in nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts. I’m pretty sure my face looks like the love heart eye emoji right now, because the view of him is one I could definitely get used to. “Hey,” I say softly, my voice husky. I climb onto the couch and rest my head on his lap. His fingers tangle in my hair as he gently massages my scalp until I’m about to fall back asleep. “I want to stay up with you,” I say, yawning. “Go to sleep,” he gently commands. “I don’t want you to be tired in the morning because of me.” “Sylar—” “Sleep.” With his fingers massaging my head with a perfect pressure, how can I not?

***** When I wake up next, I’m back in my bed, wrapped in Sylar’s arms. Rubbing my eyes, I lift my head and look at him. He’s awake. “Did you get any sleep last night?” I ask, hating that he never gets any. “A few hours,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Which is more than usual, to be honest.”

“How do you run on such little sleep?” I ask, feeling sad for him. “Why don’t you take a sleeping tablet?” He immediately shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to do that.” Because it takes away his control? “Why not?” I ask, laying my head back down on his warm chest. “Because what if something happens and I’m out of it?” he murmurs, pulling the blankets up over us. “I don’t like the thought of not being in control of my own body.” Nailed it. “What could possibly happen though?” I ask him. “And Spencer is in the house with you when you’re home anyway. So if someone broke in or something, he can kick their asses.” There’s amusement in his tone when he says, “Not going to rely on Spencer to save the day. He will probably sleep through a burglary because he’s still drunk.” “Or can’t hear over Christina’s cries.” I snicker. I make a mental note to remember to tell her that line. Sylar suddenly rolls me under him and pushes my hair out of my face. I can feel his hard cock against me, and my breath hitches. “Do you want me?” he breathes, gaze dropping to my mouth. I nod. “I want you so much, Brielle,” he says, making a sound of frustration. “I shouldn’t be here with you right now, but I can’t seem to leave. I’m selfish. You don’t choose who catches your eye. You caught mine, and now I can’t seem to step away from you. I’m stuck.” “You can be as selfish as you want with me,” I say, grabbing his neck. “It’s your call, Sylar, but I want you, too. I fucking ache for you.” Apparently those words are the magic ones, because his lips are suddenly on mine, and his hands are on my body. He trails his lips down my jawline and then down my neck, and I gasp as I’m hit with sensation after sensation. When he bites down gently on my shoulder, my back arches from the bed of its own accord, wanting more. Whatever he has to give, I can take. Our eyes are locked as he slides down each strap of my top, and they remain locked when my breasts are exposed. He kisses my lips first before paying attention to them, kissing one nipple and then the other, and then sucking on each in turn. Threading my fingers through his hair, I breathe heavily as his tongue peeks out to tease and torment me in the most delicious way. “Sylar,” I whisper, licking my lips. He lifts his head and looks at me, his eyes the darkest blue that I’ve seen them. I lift my hips as he pulls down my pants and panties, along with my scrunched-up PJ top. Naked before him, I watch him take me in, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he looks me over. “You are so beautiful. Perfect,” he says, then slams his lips back down on mine. I try and pull off his boxer shorts, and he ends up breaking the kiss to help me do so. Finally we are both completely naked,

skin against skin, nothing left between us. I reach between us to stroke him, moaning at the feel of him in my hand. He is so hard, and so big. He’s going to have to enter me slowly, because it’s been a while, and he’s definitely the biggest I’ve ever been with. “Are you on the pill?” he asks me hoarsely, kissing my neck. “Yes,” I say, guiding him to the entrance of my pussy. “Is this okay?” He nods and pushes forward, slowly sliding the tip of him inside. I wrap my legs around him and moan as he slides in, inch by inch, until he’s inside me fully. “You’re so tight, Brielle,” he grits out, teeth clenched, as he starts to move. “Oh my God,” I whisper. I’m wet and he’s hard, and when he thrusts it feels so good, I can’t help but make noises that I don’t think I’ve ever made before. He cuts me off with a deep kiss, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock. When he reaches between us and starts to play with my clit, my orgasm creeps up, and when it hits me, it’s all I can do not to scream. Wave after wave of pleasure take me over, all the while Sylar whispers sweet nothings in my ear. When I come back to myself, Sylar pulls out of me and flips me over, my ass in the air, then slides back in gently, thrusting slowly. I bite down on the pillow as he grips my hips, fingers pressing hard but not hard enough to leave any marks. One of his hands gently pulls my head back by my hair so he can lean forward to kiss my lips. His finger again finds my clit, and I know he wants me to come again before he does. I oblige. I wish I could see him coming, but I feel his body jerking behind mine, the sounds he makes turning me on enough to want another round. When he’s finished, he pulls out and rolls me onto my back, peppering sweet kisses all over my face and neck. “I love the way you look, the way you sound when you come,” he says, shaking his head, as if he can’t believe it. “You felt so good, Brielle.” “So did you,” I say on a sigh, kissing his cheek. “Now come and cuddle me.” He smiles at my order and pulls me into his arms. This time, it’s he who falls asleep first.

Chapter Eleven “Why does your brother watch you like he’s waiting for you to explode, or something?” I ask Sylar, sitting on his lap outside at his house. “Because he knows me,” he replies. I look at his face, and I realise that while his brother knows him, I don’t. I only know what he wants me to know, what he lets me see. He looks so relaxed right now, and I’ve never seen him like this. “Sex looks good on you,” I say, making him laugh out loud. He moves quickly then, standing with me in his arms and carrying me inside the house. “And where do you think you’re taking me, Sylar?” I ask, cupping his bearded face. “Didn’t you get enough of me this morning?” After a long day of work, you’d think I’d be tired; instead, I can’t wait to have him inside of me again. “Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he mutters under his breath, laying me down on his kingsize bed. “You look so small on my bed.” I move to the middle and lie there like a starfish. “This bed is ridiculously huge. Host many orgies?” He smirks, pulls off his T-shirt, and joins me. “You’re the first woman I’ve been with in five years, Brielle.” I sit up, stunned. “What? Five years. Why?” And I thought my one year was bad. “I don’t know,” he says, a distant look on his face. “Just didn’t connect with anyone, I guess.” I watch him for a moment, wondering what he’s thinking. Then, feeling bold and wanting to pull him out of this mood, I sit up and pull my top off, and then slide my pants off. In my black lace bra and panties, I slide off the bed and stand in front of him. In a quick move, he spins me around so I’m facing the bed, his heat behind me. Pushing my hair to the side, off my neck, he kisses me there once. “Your body is… exquisite.” Fingers trail down my side, then run along my stomach, while his lips continue to kiss my neck and shoulders. I close my eyes, just feeling, and when his hand slides up my thigh and into my panties, I moan. When I open my eyes, I can see myself in the mirror on his wardrobe. I can see him behind me, his hand inside my panties, finger sliding inside my pussy, and I can see the look in his eyes as he too looks in the mirror. Pure heat. I’m pushed forward on the bed, on all fours. I think he’s going to slide into me, but then I feel his tongue there, licking my pussy from behind. I grip the sheets like a lifeline while his tongue flickers over

my clit, making me cry out in pleasure. He makes me come once, twice, until he stops and I all but drop onto the bed, my thighs shaking, no strength left in my body. “I wanted to do that last time,” he says, tone deep and husky. “But I wanted to be inside of you too much. I was selfish.” He totally wasn’t selfish. I want to say the words, but I can’t speak. He made me come twice last time, and that’s definitely not being selfish in my books. With a sudden spurt of energy, I push him back on the bed and straddle him. Taking his cock into my hands, I take control and slide him into me slowly. When I’ve taken all of him, I lean forward and slowly start to rock. He removes my bra with one hand, then lies back and watches my breasts and my face as I ride him slow and deep. His hands soon find my hips, and he starts to thrust upwards as he takes control from the bottom. Rolling me over onto my back, he slides in and out of me until he comes. Then, he goes down on me once more.

***** I’m at work when I suddenly feel heat at my back and my hair is swiped to the side. “Hey you,” I say, smiling up at him. “Coffee?” “Yes, please,” he says, giving me a quick kiss. “I’m going to mow your lawn and do up your garden this week.” “You don’t have to do that,” I say, making his coffee quickly. “I know. I want to.” Christina comes out from the back and grins when she spots Sylar. “Hello. I hear you and your brother are cooking dinner for us tonight?” “Yeah, which should be interesting,” he replies, running his hand down his beard. “We’re making the only thing we know how, meat and potatoes.” “I love me some meat,” my best friend says, grinning. “We’ll bring some wine.” She pauses. “And something non-alcoholic for you.” “Don’t worry about me,” Sylar says. “And we already picked up some wine for the two of you. So you both just need to show up.” “Sounds good.” I hand Sylar the coffee and he hands me the money, which I don’t take, so he leaves it on the counter. “I’ll see you tonight then?” he asks, leaning over the counter to give me another kiss. “Yeah,” I say, smiling. “You will.” It’s in this moment that I know I’m falling in love with him. I realise how naïve I’ve been, thinking I’m strong enough to resist such a visceral reaction to this man. In my defence, I have never met a man like Sylar, so I didn’t believe this type of attraction actually

existed. Until now. He makes me feel. Everything. With him, I feel anger, pain, happiness, freedom, lust. But most of all, I feel love. I feel safe. And, for the first time in my life, I feel truly alive. We say bye and he leaves, getting into his truck and driving away. I can’t wait to see him tonight. “He’s got it bad,” Christina murmurs, shaking her head. “You must have a magic snatch.” I slap at her arm playfully. “Don’t be so vulgar at work.” “Fine, I’ll wait until we go home,” she grumbles, making herself a coffee. “Want one?” I shake my head. “We can’t show up to theirs empty-handed. It’s kind of rude, don’t you think?” “What else can we bring though? A bottle of tequila?” “They have wine. Do you really need tequila?” I ask, laughing at her. “Drunk bitch.” “It could be fun,” she says, shrugging. “We could play a drinking game.” “A shot every time you say something inappropriate? I’ll be drunk within the first hour,” I say, leaning against the counter. I look at my watch. “Charlie should be here soon. I feel like we need to hang out with him more. Should we do a movie and dinner, just the three of us, this week?” “Yeah, that sounds good,” she says, nodding. Charlie arrives, and the three of us get through the rest of the day, then close up and head home. I want to take my time getting ready, to try and look nice for tonight. I pick a red wraparound dress that is perfect for a dinner, not too dressy, but still nice and clings to my body. Sylar is going to love it. When I ring his phone to tell him that we’re about to come over, though, he doesn’t pick up. “Can you try Spencer?” I ask Christina, who immediately grabs her phone and tries to call him. “He’s not picking up either,” she says, sounding annoyed. We wait a little while and try again, but no one answers, so we get in my car and drive there. “I love this song,” Christina says, turning the volume up. It’s “New Bae” by Vic Mensa. She sings along with the high parts, making me wish I’d brought some earplugs. Luckily the men only live down the road. When I pull into their driveway and don’t see Sylar’s truck, however, I begin to wonder if they went out to pick up something last minute. One of them would have stayed home knowing that we’d be coming over though, right? Spencer’s car isn’t visible, but sometimes he parks it inside the garage. “Spencer might be here,” Christina says, reading my thoughts. We both open our doors and walk to their front door. I knock a few times, but nothing. What the hell is going on? “What should we do?” I ask her, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’ll try calling again,” she says, taking her phone out of her jeans pocket. “Otherwise, let’s just go home and wait. I don’t know where the hell they are.” They don’t answer, so we head back home and wait. Nothing. Christina falls asleep and eventually, past midnight, so do I.

***** By morning, we’re both starting to get worried. Christina does another trip to their house while I get ready for work, going through all the worst possible scenarios in my mind. What if something bad has happened? What if one of them got hurt? Should I call the hospital? I don’t know what to think, do, or say. I try his phone again, and send him a quick message telling him to call me as soon as he can, then I go outside and wait by my car for Christina. When she comes over to me, I know something is not right. “They left a note,” she says, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen her. “What does it say?” I ask, my eyes on hers, and she hands it to me. I read it once, and then I read it again. It’s not in Sylar’s handwriting. Christina and Brielle, We have a family emergency and have to leave town. Don’t know if or when we will get back. We’re sorry. We’re sorry? We’re sorry? So fucking sorry that I wasn’t worth a phone call, or even my own note? I share a look with my best friend, and I know she’s as hurt as me. This is fucking why I don’t let people in. They will always hurt you, in one way or another. “Fucking dickheads,” she mutters, taking the note from me and rereading it. “They couldn’t drop by and say bye? Nothing? This is all we get? I thought….” She trails off, and I know whatever she thought, I thought too. I don’t get it. I don’t get them. “Let’s go to work,” I say, getting into my car. I wish I had never met Sylar.

Epilogue “What the fuck am I going to do?” I ask Christina, pacing back and forth. “Oh my God! How did this happen?” What am I going to do? “Well, it happens when a man puts his dick inside you without a condom,” she replies, shaking her head at me. “I’m on the pill.” “You must have missed one.” “This is fucking bullshit,” I fire back. “This is now your reality… our reality,” she says, smiling gently. “It’s going to be okay, Bree.” “I don’t know anything about having a kid,” I say, covering my face with my hands. And I was doing so well trying to forget Sylar. I buried myself into work. I distract myself every day. With anything. Running, shopping, drinking. Anything. I even went on a date with that creep, Paul, just to try and get my mind off him. Desperate fucking times. And now? Now I’m carrying his baby. His. The man who left without a word and whom I haven’t heard from in two months. “What am I going to do, Christina?” I repeat, on the verge of hysterics. “I have no idea. Sylar is a ridiculously tall man. His baby is going to be huge. Good luck giving birth to that loaf of bread,” she says, eyes wide and unblinking. Loaf of bread? Oh my God. “You’re not helping,” I say, sitting down and staring at the wall. It takes me a few hours, but I finally let it penetrate. I’m going to be a single mother. I wonder if my parents are going to be happy about this. It’s still a grandchild, right? Right?

The End of Part One