Safe Love (Love Brothers #4) Read Online Free Page A

about your mama,” she’d said.
    He’d gotten to his feet, fury and a scary rush of lust
    pinging his nerve endings. “I’m not tellin’ you anything. I’m leaving. Thanks
    anyway.”
    He’d stood there a solid minute, listening to his heart beat
    and contemplating his options. The woman threw the sort of sexual vibe he’d
    once loved—the sort that had drawn him to Crystal. But something about Margot
    Hamilton was so very, very different from Crystal that he’d had no answer for
    it so he’d turned around, walked out the door, gotten into his car and driven
    straight to Rosie’s house.
    Rosie, the woman he’d been with for all intents and purposes
    since her Marine husband, and Antony’s best friend Paul had been obliterated by
    a bomb in some God-forsaken desert. He’d helped when her son Jeffrey was born,
    and ever since had propped her up in all the ways he knew how. They hadn’t been
    physically intimate however, until recently. And that had sent him over the
    edge, or brought him back from one, he wasn’t quite sure which it was.
    Once in her driveway he hadn’t gone inside. Instead, he’d
    jammed the truck into reverse and headed home, his head a muddled mess and his
    body so revved it actually hurt. Throwing himself into mucking out the horse’s
    stalls, he’d avoided thinking about anything for an hour or so. By the time
    he’d done everything possible in the barn and the yard, he’d had no choice but
    to sit, sweaty and filthy, sipping a beer and wishing he could just get drunk
    enough to pass out.
    The arrival of his youngest brother, Aiden, at the house
    meant he had an excuse to take out some of his frustration by being a dickhead
    for a while. To his credit, Aiden had taken it for a few minutes, and then had
    stomped out, declaring he needed to do some “apartment hunting.”
    “No, don’t … go,” Antony had whispered, but Aiden was
    already gone, squealing out onto the street behind the wheel of Antony’s truck.
    And honestly, he didn’t blame the kid. He’d run off from his own self, if that
    had been possible.
    Antony returned to his present reality, staring down at the
    empty cup, and then out into the yard his dead wife had maintained so lovingly
    and carefully for the few brief years they’d been allowed by fate or the
    Almighty to have together. He’d let her many flower gardens get overgrown years
    ago, leaving them that way as if in a big old ‘up yours’ to the universe.
    Lame, he thought as he got slowly to his feet and stretched,
    noting that for the first time in as long as he could remember he didn’t feel
    antsy or irritated. Getting laid must be helping. His phone buzzed across the
    table and he grinned at the sight of a text message from Rosie:
    Hey. You ok? Thought I saw your truck in the drive last
    night but Jeff was being a pain and when I looked again, it was gone.
    He replied quickly, already formulating how he would spend
    his day—reviving Crystal’s flower gardens. Yeah. Sorry. Had to do some
    thinking after the first therapy session. Thought some quality time with you
    would help but decided I wouldn’t subject you to me.
    You’re allowed to subject you to me anytime.
    Thanks. Gonna do some work outside. Dinner tonight?
    Yes. Aiden working in the garage today?
    Antony stopped, confused for a split second by her question.
    His face heated up and a strange sort of irrational jealousy spiked in his
    brain. He shook his head to clear it. He and Rosie were engaged now. There was
    no more reason to stress over his brother muscling in on the woman—if there
    ever had been.
    Yeah . He replied finally. He’s the man in charge
    over there today. Hope I don’t regret it.
    He waited, but she never responded to that so he shoved
    aside the lingering, illogical anxiety over her question about his youngest
    brother, cooked and ate some eggs without really tasting them and then headed
    outdoors, determined to dispel a bit of his near-constant list of things