I’m an asshole.

I’m an asshole.

I’m an asshole.

That’s all I can think as we drive back toward the cottage, with the radio up and the wind in our hair.

It’s a perfect day, and I just fucked Nora Greene in the middle of broad daylight, after basically agreeing to a summer fling.

What the fuck am I doing?

Nora chooses this moment to reach over and grab my hand, holding it tightly while she drives. She doesn’t look at me, she just gazes at the road and then the lake, then the road again.

Her red hair gleams under the sun, her skin luminous and creamy and my gut tightens.

What the fuck? Nothing good can come of this.

Why, then, does it feel so good?

Her hand feels perfectly at home inside of mine.

And you weren’t arguing about your dick being inside of her mouth, either, my fucking devil side tells me persuasively.

I sigh.

This summer will probably kill me.

Or condemn me to hell.

At the moment, though, I don’t care. Everyone around me has gotten where they are today not by thinking of other people, but by thinking of themselves. Putting themselves first. Maybe it’s time I start.

Being with Nora feels good.

Isn’t that enough of a reason?

The silence is comfortable and familiar as we drive to the rental car company and exchange cars and then head back for the cottage. We’ve managed to kill most of the day with driving, but it was nice.

Nora turns down Honeysuckle Drive. As we pass my mother’s house, I grit my teeth, as I remember that her life is practically in my hands. Her life as she knows it, anyway. I sigh.

Fuck it.

She doesn’t deserve my help.

But just as quickly as I have the thought, I think something else. No matter how much of a bitch she is, I don’t want to give her the power to make me be someone I’m not. And I’m not an asshole.

Nora glances over at me.

“You know what I’ve recently decided?”

I shake my head. Of course I don’t.

Nora stares straight ahead as she speaks.

“I’ve decided that I can’t help how people treat me. All I can do is handle myself… and not let their actions reduce me. No matter what happens, I’m going to be me. They can’t take that away.”

What a curious thing to say. It’s almost as if she can read my thoughts.

“That’s very wise,” I nod. “But easier in theory than practice.”

Nora puts the car in park outside the cottage. “I know. Trust me. Wanna watch me practice?”

Puzzled, I start to ask what she’s talking about, but then realize that another car is in the drive, a sleek black Mercedes.

Turning, I find Maxwell Greene sitting on the porch, waiting for us, dressed in an expensive suit and shiny loafers. He’s as out of place on that porch as anyone I’ve ever seen. And from the expression on his face, he doesn’t want to be here, either. I can see from the way he’s looking at me that he doesn’t approve of me.

At all.

I clench my jaw.

Fuck him.

I don’t need anyone’s approval.

I climb from the car and grab my crutches as Nora greets him.

“Hi dad,” she calls cheerfully, but the smile on her face is forced. I wonder why she hates him so much? Because it’s clear to me that she does.

Her father scowls.

“What are you doing here, Nora?”

He doesn’t even bother to greet her, as if she’s too unimportant to waste his breath.

Nora flinches, but covers it up.

“As you know, Brand was injured when he was saving my life,” she places emphasis on those words. “I’m here to help him while he’s recovering. It’s the least I can do.”

As Nora’s father rolls his eyes, I remember the day of the accident, and how I’d glanced behind me and saw him and his wife, talking to the EMTs. Nora’s mother was anxious and hysterical, while Maxwell was as cool as he could be. Almost unconcerned.

What kind of father does that?

I stick out my hand. “I don’t think we’ve officially ever met. Brand Killien.”

Maxwell stares at my hand for a minute, almost in distaste, before he stiffly takes it.

“Maxwell Greene,” he replies gruffly. He looks immediately away to Nora.

“It’s time to come home. You’re supposed to be relaxing this summer, getting ready for the Fall. And William is at our house. He’s waiting to talk to you.”

Nora instantly goes pale. The horror on her face is obvious and very, very revealing.

She opens her mouth, then closes it.

I step forward.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but Nora promised me that she would take me to Physical Therapy this evening.”

Her father barely glances at me. “Well, I guess you’ll have to get someone else to do it. Nora, I’ll meet you back at home.”

You’re welcome for saving your daughter’s life, asshole.

He starts to walk toward his car.

Nora is frozen, but then she glances at me.

I nod. Be strong, Nora. Don’t let him control you.

She looks into my eyes, searching for something, something I can’t name. She must find it, because she squares her shoulders and takes a step.

“Actually, dad, I can’t come home right now. I’ve got an obligation here. I gave my word, and I need to keep it. Isn’t that how you raised me?”

Her voice starts out tremulous, but grows steadier. Maxwell stops in his tracks, then turns slowly.

I can see the displeasure on his face, from the idea that his daughter dared to defy him.

There’s a coldness in his eyes that is familiar to me. I used to see it in my own father.

He takes a step, and I move slightly in front of Nora.

I stare into his face.

If you want her, you’ll come through me, asshole.

Humor fills his eyes.

“Are you going to do something, gimp?” Maxwell asks, his voice quiet and even. I smile at this. I could level this guy out with two gimpy legs and one hand tied behind my back. But I don’t say that. I don’t have to. He knows.

I stand my ground because actions speak louder than words.

Maxwell stares at his daughter, his gaze unyielding.

Finally, he turns.

“We’ll discuss this later, Nora. Your mother is hosting a dinner on Friday. You’ll be there.”

Without even looking at us again, he gets into his car and drives away.

I hear Nora exhale from behind me.

I turn around and stare into her face. She’s still pale, still shaky.

“Are you ok?”

She nods.

“Yeah. Thank you for… thank you.”

I nod. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Me either,” she murmurs. She stretches on her toes to get the house key and unlocks the door.

As we go in, she turns to me. “I think I have to go to my mother’s dinner. Will you go with me?”

Her voice is strained, her eyes empty.

I immediately agree. “Of course.”

“Thank you. I’m going to… take a shower. Are you ok out here for a while?”

“Of course.”

I watch her walk away, her back stiff, her hands fisted at her sides.

She’s in the shower for a long time.

The physical therapist comes and does his thirty minutes of PT with me before Nora finally emerges from the bathroom, steamy and clean.

“How did PT go?” she asks curiously as she steeps some tea in a china cup. I notice that her arms are red. She scrubbed them with force.

I shrug. “It’s ok. I know what to expect. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Nora sits in the chair next to me by the window.

“Was your leg really shattered before?”

“Pretty much. I think I’ve got more metal and screws in it than bone. But it’s okay. I can walk, which is more than a lot of guys.”

Without meaning to, I think of Mad Dog, my old colleague and friend, whose legs were blown off in front of me. He hadn’t survived.

“This dinner,” I change the subject. “What’s it for?”

Nora shrugs. “I don’t know. My father makes my mother host dinner parties for his business associates. It’s hard to say who will be there or what this one is for.”