Wrapped in Love

by Lexi Ryan

  “It’s not.” I gently massage her arches.

  She snorts. “Tell that to Nic and Ethan.”

  I’m silent for a long time, weighing my words against her disappointment and frustration before speaking. I know I can come off as condescending—my siblings remind me frequently—and that’s the last thing I want right now. Molly is more than competent in her position. She’s motivated, organized, and passionate. If anything, her expectations are too high. As her boss, I’m pretty sure I’m not ever supposed to think that. As the man who loves her, I just want her to give herself a break.

  “I’ll make adjustments,” she says. “To the staff. To the way we serve and the way I train them. I won’t let something like tonight happen again.”

  “It probably will,” I say gently, and she winces. “And when it does, it won’t be a reflection of your efforts or abilities. It’ll simply be the nature of the beast. And if you always hustle to make it work like you have today and every day before, then our clients should consider themselves lucky.”

  She blinks at me, then swallows. “Thank you, Brayden.”

  “You’re welcome.” The words come out gruff, like they have to pass over the rough terrain of my raw emotions before making it past my lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened with the little shit who walked out?”

  She’s silent for a long time, and for a minute, I think she won’t tell me. “I went to high school with his brother. Apparently, Gabe hasn’t grown up much in the last eight years and decided to share the escapades of his youth with his little brother.” She takes a deep breath, and I wait, knowing she needs to get through this without me interrupting. “Austin cornered me down here on our break. He suggested I supply him with the same . . . favors I once gave his brother.”

  My whole body stiffens, but I try to keep the magnitude of my rage out of my voice when I say, “I hope you didn’t—”

  She flies upright. “I would never. Not at work, and certainly not with some child.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” But I see it on her face. That defensiveness. The shields she’s honed after a lifetime of people assuming she would. The little teenage punk believing she would. Even though she’s his boss, eight years older than him, and light-years better than him. “I was going to say that I hope you didn’t feel like your position as his boss meant you shouldn’t kick him in the nuts.”

  She swallows. “Obviously, I tried to handle it professionally, but he was persistent, and it got a little . . . ugly.” She turns her head, her gaze shifting to the lockers, the shower stalls, anywhere but my eyes. “There are some moments when I’m not sure why I thought coming back to Jackson Harbor was a good idea.”

  The pain on her face does something to me—a tug in my chest somewhere between an ache and a need to act. It’s the way I felt when I watched my father die, when I watched my mother fight cancer. The way I felt when Sara disappeared and cut herself out of my life so completely that I had no way of knowing if she was okay.

  I exhale slowly and return my focus to her foot, digging my thumbs into her heel before taking her other foot into my hand and giving it the same treatment as the first. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back. And not just because you’re my girlfriend or because there’s no one else I’d want in your position.” I swallow hard. “You make me happy, Molly, and despite the assholes, I think you’re blossoming here, and so is Noah.”

  She turns back to me. “Why are you so nice to me, Brayden?”

  I hate that she even feels like she needs to ask. As if she doesn’t deserve the same kindness as everyone else. “Would you rather I be cruel?”

  She pulls her feet from my lap and scoots around to the seat next to me, never taking her eyes from my face. “I don’t know what to do with kindness.” A smile—wobbly and unsure, but a smile nevertheless. “Typical fucked-up girl with daddy issues.”

  “Don’t.” The word comes out harder than I intended, but I don’t rush to soften it. I let it sit in the air between us, simmering with all the frustration I feel. When I speak again, my words are quieter, but the same steel is behind them. “Don’t talk about yourself as if you’re unremarkable, like you let them believe you were in high school. As if you’re worth nothing more than the cheap pleasure you can give the nearest asshole.”

  “Why not? I earned it—my reputation. I earned it by blowing dozens of guys before I could vote. Austin didn’t do anything most of the men in this town wouldn’t do.”

  “That’s bullshit.” Anger simmers in my words.

  “Wanna bet? Follow me around someday and see how they treat me.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I mean it’s bullshit to think that you deserve to be treated like that. How many guys in your high school fucked every girl who spread her legs? How many would take action from the easiest target?” She blinks then lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug that I don’t buy for a second. “And if you walked up to them now and demanded sex just because they handed it over so willingly before, would that be okay?”

  “Of course not,” she whispers.

  “You don’t owe anyone any explanations for the decisions you made, and you sure as fuck don’t owe me an apology for firing an asshole kid who dropped his pants and expected you to—”

  She leans forward in a flash and presses her fingers to my lips. “Don’t say it, okay?”

  I exhale, letting go of the words I know she doesn’t want me to say. I focus on the feel of her skin against my lips, her taste a breath away. I dream about this skin. About these fingers. I constantly think about this amazing woman I love, and sometimes I’m not sure love is going to be enough to make her understand what I see when I look at her.

  I knew about Molly’s reputation that night we were together in New York. We weren’t in high school at the same time, but my brothers talked. Hell, guys my age talked. I didn’t care about her reputation or about the choices she made back then. Some guys sleep around, and some girls sleep around. It doesn’t matter to me.

  But all that time, I thought Molly gave herself to those guys because she enjoyed it. Until she moved back to Jackson Harbor, I never knew the truth of what drove her—her history with her stepfather. If I’d known, I would have understood why she begged me not to take her home that night eight years ago, and I would have done everything in my power to put a stop to it then. If I’d known, I’d have made different decisions during my visit to the city last spring. Maybe I’d have wooed her and seduced her slowly instead of taking her to bed and making her think I was just another asshole who wanted to get her naked and nothing more.

  I wish I had known. Because then I’d have understood that there were reasons she offered herself so easily and freely that night—reasons that had nothing to do with me or the connection between us. I’d have understood that Molly McKinley is a woman who needs to be taught her value, and that if I ever want her to see herself the way I see her, those lessons need to come from me.

  She pulls her hand away and blinks at me. “I need to get upstairs.”

  “I love you,” I say softly.

  She tries to hide her wince, but I see it before she climbs off the couch and slides back into her shoes. “Brayden, I—”

  “Miss McKinley!” Bella says, flying into the break room in a rush. “You said to come get you when the bride and groom got here.”

  “Thanks, Bella,” she says.

  “Are you sure you don’t need me?” I ask again.

  She shakes her head. “I’m beginning to think you’re just trying to get out of your speech, Brayden.”

  Molly

  “Miss McKinley,” Bella says softly after dinner’s been served. “I think you need to see this.” She holds out her phone.

  I shake my head. “Not now, Bella.” I nod toward the head table, where Brayden is about to give his speech as best man.

  She bites her lip and looks anxiously between me and Brayden taking the microphone across the room. “Just look on Instagra
m as soon as you have a chance.”

  I nod then press a finger to my lips, indicating she should be quiet now. She rushes back to the kitchen to help the other servers clean up.

  Dinner service went well, considering we were short-handed, but I haven’t been able to chase away this gnawing feeling that’s been eating at my stomach and whispering ugliness in my ear since the incident with Austin.

  Austin’s assumptions and presumptions about me brought all my old fears to the surface, and with every word Brayden said to try to make me feel better, I just kept thinking that what happened with Austin is more of the same. I got kicked out of my house because my landlord thought he was entitled to a piece of me, and when I didn’t hand it over, he got pissed. Brayden lost an investor when I got drunk and careless and forgot I wasn’t that girl anymore.

  Tonight could have been worse, but it was a reminder that I can’t leave my past mistakes behind. They will follow me, and I have no idea why Brayden would want to put up with it.

  Behind the head table, he straightens his suit jacket and smiles at the room. He’s gorgeous and kind, and the sight of him makes my throat go thick. “Good evening, everyone. I’m Brayden Jackson, Ethan’s brother, which means I’ve had the absolute pleasure of being his best man, and it means now you get the dubious pleasure of listening to me speak. Anyone in my family can tell you that’s not something I choose to do often.” He pauses a beat while everyone laughs. “Tonight, however, I’m proud to say a few words.” He turns toward the newlyweds. “I’m not someone who believes everything happens for a reason—at least not in the sense that there’s some cosmic plan unrolling outside of our control. We lost our father too soon. I watched my mother lose the love of her life too soon and watched my siblings each struggle with their grief. And I guess that just hurt too much to accept as some cosmic plan.” His gaze lands on Ethan. “When Ethan lost his first wife and was left to raise his daughter while ravaged by his grief, I knew I’d never believe such a thing.”

  The last of the guests’ whispers quiet at the mention of Ethan’s late wife, and all eyes settle on the best man.

  “And now that I’ve convinced a room full of people that I should never be allowed to speak at a wedding again”—laughter—“I’ll get to my point. Regardless of how good or bad the things in our life are, we get to choose. It’s the choice that’s the gift. Ethan and Nic chose love. Despite their individual heartaches. Despite their own fears of getting hurt. They could have declared their love just wasn’t meant to be. Instead, they fought for something better than the heartache they’d both endured before. And because they made that choice, they found something that inspired even my old, jaded heart to believe in the power of love.” He raises his glass. “To Nic and Ethan.”

  “To Nic and Ethan,” the crowd calls in return, and they all drink. Even Brayden, who meets my eyes over his glass and holds my gaze. And because I’m a coward, because I’m not sure I can believe in the same things he does, I turn around and head for the kitchen, where my staff is working to clean up.

  They have it under control, but Bella meets my eyes and pulls her phone from her pocket. A reminder.

  I head to my office and pull my own phone from my purse, wondering if I’ll even be able to find what she’s talking about.

  But I don’t have to search, because my phone has blown up with notifications all leading back to Austin’s last Instagram post.

  Blowjob Molly, doing her thing. Thanks for everything, @MollyMcKinleyJB #happeningatJacksonBrews

  With shaking hands, I press play on the video. It’s only thirty seconds long, but by the time it’s over, I feel my world in pieces around me. I close my office door and shut off the lights. Then I curl into the corner and I cry.

  Brayden

  I was hoping Molly would have a chance to step away from the staff after dinner was cleared, but I haven’t spotted her since my speech. Though I’ve left the majority of the details of running this place to her, I do know enough to understand that there’s a lot to be done. Tonight, the staff doesn’t just need to clean up from this plated dinner for one hundred and fifty; they’ll need to do the prep work for the tasting room’s lunch menu for tomorrow, and prepare for the catering events in the week ahead too.

  I understand she’s legitimately busy, and yet as the guests spill onto the dance floor and I’m left to contemplate my beer alone, I still feel like she’s avoiding me.

  Shay takes the seat beside me and crosses her legs. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I’m fine. Wishing my girlfriend were out here, I guess, but good.”

  Shay flinches and looks away.

  “What is it?”

  She pulls her phone from her lap and puts it on the table, nudging it until it’s in front of me. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I unlock her phone and see she has Instagram pulled up and a post from Austin on her screen.

  The caption makes my blood boil, and I want to find the little punk and knock him out for using that horrible nickname. Hell, I already wanted to do worse for what he did to her this afternoon.

  The first time I watch, I don’t really know what I’m seeing—Molly, standing just inside her office, talking to Jason Ralston, who’s in her doorway. Molly looks at the camera or whoever’s holding the phone, then pulls Jason inside her office and shuts her door. Then it’s just . . . the door.

  I frown at my sister, and she swallows. “It has more . . . effect if you can hear them.” There’s an apology all over her face, and she shakes her head. “We don’t know when he took this video.”

  I hand Shay’s phone to her and push my chair back, heading outside to be alone. If this dread gnawing at me is any indication, I want to be alone in the cold when I watch—listen—to this.

  The first time I do, my stomach plummets to my feet . . . lower. Molly pulls Jason Ralston in her office, and then she’s moaning. I can hear the sounds she makes until they’re interrupted by Austin’s snicker on the other side of the camera.

  I don’t want to believe it. He could have added those sounds into the video. But I know Molly. I know her moans and her pleas. I know the sounds she makes when she’s turned on and nearing climax, and I recognize her noises as clearly as I recognize her voice.

  I knew she was seeing Jason. Maybe I didn’t know they were sleeping together, and maybe the idea of her letting him touch her here makes me insane, but I knew they were on a date just last week. This video could have been—

  Tuesday. For just a beat in the middle of her moans, the camera pans to the daily schedule on the white erase board outside her office, and I know this video is from Tuesday. But which Tuesday? On Tuesday four days ago, I had her alone in her office—kissing her between her legs, making her writhe until she came against my face. Did she pull Jason in there before or after me?

  I close my eyes, thinking about how she acted in front of Sara at the restaurant Monday morning—about how happy she was to pretend there was nothing between us just in case I wanted my old girlfriend back. I agreed to her boundaries. Her rules and restrictions on what we could be, but I never imagined . . .

  I’m thrown back ten years to Sara and her professor, to finding out in the most embarrassing way that she was sleeping with him behind my back.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  My head snaps up to Molly, standing coatless in the cold again, her arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are mottled pink. In the streetlight illuminating the parking lot, I can see a streak of dried tears running through her makeup.

  She chews on her bottom lip and looks everywhere but at me. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he did this.” She presses her hand to her mouth and whispers, “Or . . . why anyone would hate me so much.”

  She never wanted a relationship. She never wanted more.

  But it doesn’t matter if we were officially a couple when Austin took this video. It doesn’t matter to me that she told me she can’t do relationships. None of that matters
when this awful betrayal is roaring in my ears that I’m an idiot. That I’m blind. That Jason has something to offer her that had her pulling him into her office the same day I—

  “I deserved to know.” I swallow hard and look away—toward the building, the place we built together. She let him touch her there. “If you were fucking him and me at the same time, I deserved to know.”

  She gasps. “What?”

  “We weren’t using protection, Molly. I fucking deserved to know.” I can’t look at her. It hurts too much. And this feeling like maybe I don’t have a right to be angry? That just makes my rage worse.

  “You should get back inside.” She swipes at her cheeks. “They’re cutting the cake soon.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  She laughs, a hollow, empty sound. Her long inhale is so jagged that it sounds like it’s running over a hundred razor blades on the way to her lungs. “Do you want me to say it’s a lie? Would you even believe me? Go celebrate with your family.”

  I don’t move. I’m not going to walk away from this conversation—I have no business being in that reception while I’m this angry anyway.

  But she walks away from me, and I know this conversation is over.

  Brayden

  The rest of Ethan and Nic’s reception passes in a blur. I smile when I’m expected to, dance with whom I’m expected to, and generally give the performance of a lifetime. Only Shay knows what’s going on. I suppose everyone else will soon enough.

  Molly is scarce through the end of the party, though if I’m honest, I’ve avoided any moments when I thought she might show up.

  When it’s over, I can’t get home fast enough, and I don’t bother changing out of my suit before pouring myself some of Dad’s bourbon.