Your Brother's Wife
Chapter 85: Your Brother's Wife
I swallowed the pill with a gulp of water and with it tried to drown the storm of emotions clawing up my chest. Hours had passed since Roman left, and I’d barely moved, marinating in thoughts that made me feel equal parts pathetic and ridiculous.
Why was I even spiraling over this? Why would I even want him to be okay with me getting pregnant in circumstances such as ours—accidentally, unplanned, chaotically so? It wasn’t as if we’d ever sat down and mapped out a life with kids, a future, and matching pajamas. The man already made it clear that he was anti-marriage and anti-kids.
And yet… the thought still burned me alive.
It was already extreme enough that he came inside me multiple times, all because of my stupid freaking allergy—which I allowed him to do the first time. But letting that reckless desire grow into a whole human being? That was an entirely different level of insane.
I tried to rationalize it. I should thank him for being careful. For being safe. For being reasonable. For being smart. For protecting me from my own stupid, sentimental urges. But the more I repeated that earlier conversation, the more hollow they rang. My chest ached anyway, a dull throb like pressing on a bruise that won’t heal.
And then, salvation, or maybe just distraction, came in the form of a blast of music.
Specifically Beat It. The familiar rock anthem nearly shook the house. The walls practically vibrated with the bass, rattling picture frames, buzzing against the quiet I’d been suffocating in. Roman hated loud music. Loathed heavy metal and rock with a passion. He’d once told me it was “noise with a bad attitude.” He wasn’t behind this. Which left only one other culprit.
Reese.
The thought of him was enough to make my temples throb harder than the music itself. I guess Roman's dislike for him was rubbing off on me, too.
Still, curiosity yanked me from Roman's bedroom. I put my hair up in what couldn't be classified as a ponytail and jogged downstairs to find out who was blasting this music.
The noise grew louder with every step until I reached the kitchen doorway and—surprise, surprise—there he was.
Reese stood at the stove, his blond hair pulled into a perfect ponytail that made mine look like a sad parody. He was barefoot, wearing a pair of black sweatpants I instantly recognized as Roman’s. He looked maddeningly comfortable, like this was his house, not his brother’s.
And he was flipping pancakes. Flipping freaking pancakes to Beat It.
I paused at the threshold, my body refusing to obey the normal etiquette of walking in and demanding he turn the volume down. Instead, I hovered, half-annoyed, half-disoriented.
“You look… okay?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He glanced up, one brow raised, spatula in hand. “I could say the same thing to you.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
A smirk tugged at his mouth as he switched off the burner. “The least you and my brother could’ve done was let me sleep in peace. It's rude to keep a guest up all night.”
The world tilted beneath me. My stomach dropped so fast I thought I might be sick. Even the tips of my fingers went cold.
He’d heard us last night.
The humiliation was instant, raw, sharp enough to peel skin. Was Roman aware? Was it his plan? Perhaps he did it intentionally? Maybe to scare Reese away.
“Of course I heard you,” he said lazily. “You made it quite difficult not to. I even coined up a new term for ya.” He grinned like a maniac. “Forceful Exhibitionists.”
I bit down on my tongue, hard enough to taste copper. Why had I said that out loud? Why had I given him the satisfaction of knowing my shame?
“Sorry,” I muttered, even though the apology made bile rise in my throat.
He waved it off casually. “It’s no biggie, Savannah. I've done worse.”
Easy for him to say. My insides felt like shredded paper. I cleared my throat, desperate to shift gears before the awkwardness swallowed me whole. “Roman said you had a migraine. Doesn’t really look like it.”
“Mm. I don’t,” Reese said, shrugging. “Just needed an excuse to get him off my back. He came pounding on my door at four a.m. sharp, so I had to improvise. He'd have sent me out.”
“Oh,” I said brilliantly.
“Yeah. Oh.” He replied unenthusiastically.
The silence stretched taut that I wanted to strangle it. “But I thought you were leaving this morning,” I blurted.
He pressed a hand dramatically to his forehead, groaning. “God, not you too, sister-in-law. Just when I was starting to get fond of you.”
I bristled. “I’m not your sister-in-law.”
In one quick step he was in front of me, the previous distance erased. My pulse jumped as he caught my hand and lifted it between us, the gesture mock-gentle.
“You are,” he murmured, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “That ring belonged to my mother. Wearing it makes you family, whether you like it or not. You're Roman’s bride.”
I yanked my hand back like his touch was fire. “Don’t touch me.”
He grinned, raising his palms in mock surrender, but there was nothing harmless about the way his gaze lingered. “Got it.”
I stepped back, putting more space between us cause I needed air. “When are you leaving, Reese?”
Instead of answering, his grin widened. “Now I see what he saw in you.”
My hands balled into fists at my sides, but I forced my voice steady. “And what’s that?”
“Himself,” Reese said simply. “You’re both very alike. He's just more controlling and… forceful.”
I stiffened. “That’s not a bad thing. Couples often mirror each other.”
“It is when the mirror cracks.” His tone was suddenly serious. “And trust me, with my brother, it always cracks.”
Anger flared hot in my chest. “Why would you say that?”
“You’ll find out, pretty girl.” He winked, retreating to his pancakes.
I hated him. It was official now. I hated his smugness, his cryptic little riddles, the way he seemed to crawl under my skin and rearrange my insides without lifting a finger. His coded messages. Everything.
“Are you leaving after breakfast?” I tried again as he popped strawberries into his mouth like candy.
“No, sister-in-law.” His voice was sarcastic and mocking all at once. “Not yet.”
“Why? Roman doesn’t even want you here. I’m the one who convinced him to let you stay. And now you’re rubbing me the wrong way. You need to leave.” I pointed toward the door, forcing power into my voice.
For a moment he just stared. Blankly. Then he blinked and tilted his head a little. And before I could process, he leaned in and patted my head.
Like I was a little dog.
“You're not scary.” He drawled. “You do not order or threaten a Blackwood. Know this, Savannah Hart.” He laid emphasis on my name.
Maybe he did it to scare me. Probably to intimidate me. But I wouldn't be Savannah Marjorie Hart if I let it slide. No man bullies me and gets away with it.
I held up my finger bearing the ring. “I will soon become Savannah Marjorie Blackwood. Your brother's wife. So I do have the right to threaten you, Reese Blackwood.”
The mask slipped for a moment there and I saw surprise flash through his features. But he masked it sharply.
“And right now I'm ordering you to leave my husband's house. Your presence is upsetting.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. As if this was entertaining for him. “It's Reese Zachary Blackwood, honey. You missed that.”
“I don't care what your middle name is.”
Surprisingly, he began to clap. A full round of applause. Followed by full-blown laughter.
“You might not be scary. But you are feisty,” he said softly, too softly. “That’s cute. My brother’s taste must’ve shifted. You’re not his usual type.”
The words landed like a slap. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. “He’s always gone for gentle blondes who don't bite back. You’re not that. You’re something else. A deviation. And if there's something I've learnt, it's that deviations never last.”
His words lit a fuse in me. Anger burst out like a flame. “Leave, Reese. I mean it. Leave and don’t come back.”
I spun on my heel toward the gym, adrenaline pumping, my throat tight with rage. I'm going to tell Roman that his brother is the greatest jerk ever. His laugh followed me, low and amused. “Roman’s not here, sister-in-law.”
That stopped me on the spot. I turned slowly. “What do you mean he’s not here? He's in the gym.”
“He stepped out,” Reese said, leaning lazily against the counter as if the entire house belonged to him. “And I’m not leaving until our guest arrives.”
The hairs at the back of my neck rose. “What guest?”
He smiled like a wolf, and it sent a ripple of dread through me. “Your father-in-law. Time to meet daddy dearest.”