Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 46

The second the door swings open, the world outside feels like a different planet compared to yesterday morning.

The storm didn’t just pass through — it tore the place apart and kept the souvenirs.

Garbage bins lie abandoned in the middle of the street, half-tipped and trailing trash down the gutters.

Branches, some bigger than a man, are snapped and scattered across lawns and roads.

One car down the street has a whole tree leaning against it, the hood crumpled like tin foil.

Neighbors are already outside, armed with gloves and rakes and exhaustion, trying to piece the world back together.

I’ve seen worse.

A lot worse.

But judging by the way Penny’s mouth falls open in a silent gasp, she hasn’t.

Neither has Tyler, probably, but he’s better at pretending.

She turns to him, wide-eyed, and says, "You drove back in this?"

Tyler shrugs, grinning like it’s a good story for later.

"Yeah. It was tricky. Had to swerve around some stuff. No big deal."

She frowns, hugging the oversized shirt tighter around herself, but says nothing else.

We start walking toward her house, Tyler launching into some story about the football game last night — who won, who lost, who made an epic fail worth laughing about for weeks.

Penny trudges beside him, yanking at the waistband of the massive joggers she's wearing — mine, still, and way too big for her — her little huffs and frustrated mutters making her sound more like a storm cloud than the actual storm.

If I weren’t so pissed off, I might actually find it funny.

Cute, even.

But the truth is — I can barely see straight through how hard I’m trying not to grab her and tell her she’s a goddamn idiot for staying with someone who treats her like she’s optional.

Maybe she’s right, though.

Maybe sunny, fun, easy is what she needs.

Not someone like me —

Someone who’d destroy her without meaning to.

Someone who doesn’t know how to be soft without first being brutal.

I’m rough.

Closed off.

Mean without trying half the time.

And hell, I’m leaving again soon anyway.

Heading back to the Navy, back to the life that chewed me up and spit me out and taught me how to stop needing things like this.

Wanting her — it’s a stupid, selfish instinct.

One I should’ve killed the second it started.

I shove my hands deeper into my pockets, clench my jaw, and force myself to focus on anything else —

the crunch of glass under my boots, the low murmur of voices from the houses we pass.

The world is still dripping, heavy with rain that hasn’t fully drained away, and somewhere overhead, wood creaks against wood — faint but sharp enough to slice through the fog in my head.

I slow down, scanning instinctively.

Old habit.

The one that kept me alive more times than I can count.

The sound sharpens — a dry, splintering crack.

Tyler and Penny walk ahead, still talking, completely oblivious to the danger threading itself above them.

Then I see it.

The tree ahead, heavy and battered from the storm, leaning dangerously toward the sidewalk.

A branch — thicker than my arm — is hanging loose, ready to snap.

Another crack — louder now — and the whole thing shifts, the movement so subtle it would be easy to miss.

Except I don't miss things like that.

"Move," I bark, already surging forward.

There’s no time to explain.

No time to think.

I grab Tyler first, fingers fisting in the back of his collar and yanking him sideways hard enough to stumble.

Then Penny —

My hand wraps around her waist like it’s always meant to be there, pulling her tight against my chest as I pivot us out of the way.

The branch crashes down with a roar, smashing into the sidewalk where they’d been standing a second earlier, sending splinters and debris flying.

For a beat, everything is still.

The world holds its breath.

Tyler recovers first, letting out a shaky laugh that sounds a little too loud.

"Holy shit," he says, clapping me on the back hard enough to jolt me forward.

"Bro! That was some superhero shit right there. Seriously. You saved my ass."

He whips out his phone and starts taking pictures of the wreckage, already planning whatever story he’s going to tell the guys later.

I barely hear him.

Because Penny is still pressed against me —

her breathing rapid, her hands fisted in the fabric of my shirt like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

I don't let go.

Not immediately.

Because the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet.

Because I can still feel the way she fits against me — small, warm, breakable.

Because part of me is still running hot from the thought of how easily she could’ve been crushed if I hadn’t looked up.

Penny tilts her head back slightly, eyes wide, pupils blown huge with leftover fear.

Her lips part, but for a second no sound comes out.

Then — so soft it’s almost a whisper —

"Thank you."

I nod — because I can’t find any words that won’t make things worse — and finally, finally loosen my grip.

She steps back, smoothing down the oversized clothes like armor, cheeks flushed with more than just leftover fear.

Tyler is still buzzing around the fallen branch, pointing and laughing like it's the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

I glance up at the tree —

the way more branches still hang low and battered —

and my instincts flare again.

"Let’s keep moving," I say, voice sharp enough to cut through Tyler’s rambling.

"Before the rest of that damn tree comes down."

Tyler grins, oblivious, and nods.

Penny says nothing, just follows as we continue down the broken sidewalk —

the distance between us feeling smaller now,

and somehow infinitely more dangerous.