The Home-wrecker (The Goode Brothers)
The Home-wrecker: Chapter 18

I’m passed out on my bed, the TV still playing across the room, when my phone starts buzzing on my chest. In a rush, I sit up and notice the name on the screen—Briar.

My fingers have never moved so fast to answer a call.

“Hello?” I stammer groggily as I glance at the clock on my nightstand. Twelve o’clock in the morning.

She sniffles into the phone line. “I’m outside,” she whimpers.

“What?” I nearly bolt out of bed. “You’re outside where?”

“Your house,” she replies. “I know it’s late. I just…didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m coming,” I say in a rush as I throw on a pair of sweatpants and quietly open my bedroom door. The house is silent. Luckily, my parents’ room is on the other side, so I don’t risk waking them.

When I tear open the front door, my heart lurches at the sight of Briar standing there, huddled against the cool breeze. Her nose is red, and there are blotches of pink splattered all over her cheeks. It’s obvious from the swells under her eyes that she’s been crying.

“Jesus, what happened?” I whisper as I go to her, wrapping her up in my arms.

She melts against my chest, sobs racking through her tiny frame as I hold her.

After a while, she finally murmurs, “Sean and I got into a fight.”

It’s wrong of me to perk up at that, but I do. I hate to see her hurting, but maybe this is what she needs to finally take the steps she has to take.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask, rubbing her back.

“Can I? Are your parents home?”

“They’re asleep,” I reply. “We just have to be quiet.”

When she gazes up at me, her expression softens. I love the way she looks at me as if she needs me. And there’s never been an easier choice in my life. Whatever Briar needs, I will give her.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

Quietly, I guide her up to my room, closing us in and immediately feeling how charged the space between us feels. We’re alone in the middle of the night.

Have I made it evident enough how much I want her? She has to know that, right? But now’s not the time for wanting. She’s upset, and I’m not going to be some perv who tries to make moves on her when she’s in a vulnerable state. I’d never want her to be with a creep like that.

“Talk to me,” I say as I take the chair at the desk. She slips off her shoes and climbs onto my bed, sitting cross-legged and staring down at her fingers.

“He accused me of cheating on him,” she murmurs. “He’s been loyal to me for three years, and I don’t appreciate him, and if I really want to hang out with someone else, then I must not love him.”

“He’s playing mind games with you, Briar,” I say. “And I’m not saying that to convince you to leave him, but he’s making you feel bad for something you haven’t even done.”

Her gaze lifts to my face, a furrow in her brow, and it suddenly has me questioning everything.

“Have you?” I ask. There couldn’t possibly be someone else.

Quickly, she shakes her head. “You know I haven’t.”

Silence grows between us as she chews on her bottom lip.

“Briar,” I carefully whisper. “He’s talking about me, right? He thinks you and I…”

Slowly, she nods.

My heart hammers in my chest, and the air in the room grows thick. I want to kiss her so bad it hurts. And I have no clue if she loves Sean or if she would see me as a fling, but all of the things I feel like I should care about at this moment, I don’t.

But I can’t bring myself to close the distance.

“Will you come sit next to me?” she asks with a softness in her tone.

My breath feels heavy and slow, and I can’t ignore the way my cock twitches when she says that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I reply quietly.

“Why not?”

“Because if I sit next to you on my bed, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

I watch the delicate movement in her throat as she swallows. Her lips part as her gaze connects with mine.

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?”

“If I start, Briar, I won’t want to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

There are no more questions in my mind. No more moral dilemmas or consequences to consider. There is just her and the consent to do what I’ve wanted to do for months now.

I move toward her, running a hand along her jaw and sealing her mouth in a kiss. She grabs my neck to pull me closer, but I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor this kiss and the way her lips feel against mine.

As I climb onto the bed, she falls backward, so she’s lying down, and I’m draping my body over hers.

Our kiss is ravenous. It feels like our first but also like I’ve been kissing her for years. Her mouth is mine and no one else’s.

When her legs part and I feel them wrapping around me, I grind myself against her, and the soft moan she hums in my ear is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

Lifting up, I stare down at her and soak up the sight of her splayed out beneath me.

She’s here. She’s in my bed, and she’s mine.

With her soft hands latched around my neck, she plays with the hair on the nape as she says, “I feel so safe with you, Caleb.”

“You are safe with me, Briar.”

Leaning down, I kiss her again. The next few minutes are full of touches, kisses, and need. And like I told her, I don’t want to stop. And like she said, she doesn’t stop me.

She doesn’t stop me when I tug her shirt over her head.

She doesn’t stop me when I peel down her pants.

She doesn’t stop me when I touch her, sliding my fingers into her soaked cunt.

We are naked and alone, and there is nothing stopping me as I bring our bodies together.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize that I’m being reckless with my own heart. As I thrust inside her, it feels as if I’m getting everything I want, but am I? At any moment, I could lose her. It could be in an hour, a day, or a year, but that’s a pain I will eventually face.

Being inside Briar feels like heaven. Like we were made for each other.

Her body is clenched around mine. She’s muffling her moans in the crook of my neck as I rock into her. The sensation of her shivering around me sends me over the edge, and I bite my own lip hard enough to stop me from crying out as I fill the condom between us.

When our bodies are spent, we lie in that position for a long time. She’s busy catching her breath, and meanwhile, I’m too scared to see the look on her face. Did she regret that? Does she feel terrible?

It was wrong of me to take advantage of her during a time when I should have been consoling her, but I’m falling head over heels for this woman. There is no reason for my actions.

She is my reason.

After slowly lifting up, I stare into her eyes, checking for signs of regret or sadness. Softly, she smiles.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she replies, fighting a wide grin.

I wish I could smile in return, but I don’t understand what that means. Was I just a fling to her? Just something to check off her list?

Feeling like a fool, I decide to blurt out the truth. “I like you, Briar. A lot.”

Her hand caresses my cheek. “I like you too.”

I want to know more. I want to know if she’ll leave him for me. I want to be sure that this meant as much to her as it did to me. Instead, I slide my dick from inside her and pull off the condom.

Then I lie back in bed with her and hold her tightly in my arms. After a few minutes, she falls asleep there, but I don’t.

I can’t help but feel like this was either the greatest or worst moment of my life. Because if she doesn’t end up with me, then I will forever look back at this night as the night I had everything I wanted, only to have it ripped away. The catalyst of my earth-shattering pain.

But even knowing that it could end in heartbreak, I’d still do it again.

Present Day

I’m leaving the office early today. I’m struggling to concentrate on work. There’s too much on my mind, and to make matters worse, Briar is home alone with Dean.

I’m playing with fire here. I dared him to try and seduce my wife. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hope Briar turned him down. I hope she humiliated him.

But with every ounce of confidence that courses through me is a hint of doubt. He is good-looking and young and so fucking suave.

I trust Briar, but anyone would have a hard time turning him down.

Halfway through my drive, my phone rings. A feeling of dread washes over me until I see it’s my mother’s name on the caller ID instead of my father’s.

“Hello,” I say with a chipper tone after answering it.

“Hello, baby,” my mother croons through the phone in her sweet Southern drawl.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Abigail? I hope she’s not being too difficult.”

“Oh, not at all,” my mother replies. “She and I were just having a fashion show. Abby designs my outfits⁠—”

“And Nana has to wear them!” Abby calls from a distance, overhearing our conversation.

My face stretches into a wide smile at the happiness in her voice.

“Sounds like you girls are having fun,” I say.

“We are having so much fun,” my mom replies.

It’s nice to hear her so happy, too. It’s been a tough year for my mother. My father’s scandal, learning he was a regular at a sex club in the city, and then being arrested for attacking her son’s girlfriend, my mother needs all the smiles and laughs she can get.

“Abby would like to know if she can stay another night,” she says.

“Of course,” I reply.

My mother responds with a soft hum of approval. Then it sounds as if she closes herself in a room so I can no longer hear the cartoons playing in the background.

“And how are you doing, baby?” she asks.

My throat grows tight, hearing the concern in my mother’s voice. “I’m fine, Mom,” I lie, hoping it keeps her from worrying.

“Have you heard from your father?” she asks gently.

I can’t lie to her about that. Clearing my throat, I reply, “Yeah. I saw him last week.”

“How are you feeling after that?” she asks.

With a heavy sigh, I say, “He asked me to help him.”

“Of course he did. You’re a damn good lawyer, Caleb.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?” I reply.

“No. That’s your business,” she says sternly.

“Isn’t it sort of everyone’s business at this point?” A sarcastic laugh slips through my lips.

“No, it’s not.” With that motherly tone in her voice, I swallow my laughter. “I won’t pit my boys against each other. You’re both grown and can make up your own minds. That is between you and Adam, and I won’t get in the middle of it.”

The line gets quiet for a moment as I contemplate her words. My gut is telling me not to even consider it. He is evil and vile, and he deserves the worst possible charge he can get.

But my head is saying that with everything I know about this case and that attack, an aggravated assault charge would be much easier to convict. He’d go to jail either way, but a heavier charge might cost our family more time and stress.

What does he honestly deserve?

My mother’s voice cuts me off from my contemplation.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Caleb, just remember this. You don’t owe that man a thing. Make your decision based on what you want.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I mutter.

With that, she says her goodbyes and hangs up the phone while I’m left to overthink the entire thing through the drive.

When I get home, Briar’s car is still parked in the garage next to my empty spot. Dean’s car is nowhere to be seen, which gives me some sense of peace. At least she’s here without him.

Climbing out of the car, I loosen my tie as I step into the house.

“Briar,” I call from the kitchen. There’s no response. Maybe she’s sleeping upstairs.

Before jogging up the stairs to check on her, I stop at the laundry room. I tug off my jacket and hang it on the rack for dry cleaning. Then I unbutton my shirt and toss it in the hamper.

As I riffle through the pile of clothes on the counter, I pause when I realize there is nothing in here that I recognize. But it’s definitely men’s clothes, obvious in the black silk briefs I’m holding in my hand.

For a moment, I’m confused. Then I realize these must be Dean’s clothes.

He’s doing his laundry in our house? Has Briar been doing his laundry for him?

For far too long, I stare at the briefs in my hand, my fingers delicately rubbing the soft fabric, imagining how tight they must look on Dean’s ass and thick thighs.

Fuck, he’s getting in my head again. It’s been years since I even allowed myself to think of a man in his underwear. That was college behavior when locker rooms and communal showers started making me discover some things about myself.

So I get aroused by men sometimes. It doesn’t matter. I’m married to Briar, and I have never acted on those desires, so what difference does it make?

A car door closes in the distance and spooks me. For some reason, my reflexes make me shove the underwear into my pocket rather than put them back in the pile of clothes where they belong.

I leave the laundry room in a rush to see who’s outside. Going out through the back door, I watch as Dean and Briar stomp away from each other, him going to his apartment and her walking toward me.

She pauses at the sight of me standing in the backyard, home early from work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Where have you been?” I ask at the same time.

“We went to the museum in the city,” she replies, trying to move past me.

“Together?”

“It was just a museum, Caleb,” she snaps in return. Something is bothering her. I can tell. I know my wife enough to know her moods. And something has definitely set her off today.

Grabbing her arm, I turn her toward me. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she replies with fervor.

“Why were you alone with him?” I ask. I find myself searching her features—her lips, her cheeks, her neck, her hair—as if signs that he’s touched her would be written on her skin.

She glares at me, and for a moment, it feels like she’s a stranger.

“What’s wrong, Caleb? You don’t trust me?”

The pain etched in her expression makes me release her arm.

“Of course I do, Briar. It’s him I don’t trust.”

“Right,” she replies with a slight eye roll. “Because I’m so trustworthy, right?”

Jerking her arm from my grip, she stomps out of the room and up the stairs. Meanwhile, I’m staring at her, dumbstruck, without a damn thing to say.