I Wasn't Supposed to Find My Brother's Best Friend's Filthy Journal

Ellie'S POV

My brother’s house was dark when I pulled up, but I knew he’d be awake. Liam always kept a light on in the kitchen, a beacon for anyone needing shelter. I parked my car and just sat there for a moment, my hands trembling on the steering wheel. The street felt surreal, quiet. Gunner’s bike was gone. Mark was gone. Only the echo of Gunner’s words remained. Yeah. I do.

I grabbed my bag, the journal still inside, and walked to the front door. I didn’t knock. I just opened it and stepped into the warm, familiar clutter of Liam’s living room.

He was at the kitchen table, a beer in hand, his broad shoulders hunched over a motorcycle parts catalog. He looked up, his sharp eyes immediately scanning me. He saw the tear streaks, the wild look in my eyes, the way I clutched my bag like a life raft.

“Ellie?” He stood up, his chair scraping back. “What’s wrong?”

I dropped the bag on the floor. “Mark,” I said, my voice cracking. “He… he was cheating on me. With a librarian. A married one.”

Liam’s face hardened. He came around the table, his presence a solid, comforting wall. “Tell me everything.”

I did. I spilled it all in a shaky, fractured narrative. The hickey. The confession. The chase onto the street. I left out Gunner. I left out the journal. I left out the punch and the devastating admission. I just said Mark had grabbed me, that we’d argued, that I’d left.

Liam listened, his expression growing darker with every word. When I finished, he didn’t hug me. He didn’t offer soft comforts. He just nodded, a slow, grim motion.

“I knew it,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I fucking knew he wasn’t right for you.”

I blinked. “You knew?”

“A few months back,” he said, walking to the fridge to grab another beer. He popped the cap off, his movements controlled but tense. “I saw him downtown. He was talking to a woman—not you—outside a coffee shop. She was laughing, touching his arm. He was leaning in, smiling like it was his birthday. I thought maybe it was just an acquaintance. I didn’t want to start shit if it was nothing.” He took a long sip. “But I watched. The way he looked at her… it wasn’t nothing. It was the way a man looks at a woman he wants.”

The confirmation was another blow. My brother had seen it. He’d suspected. And he’d let me stay with Mark because he thought I was happy.

“No one is worthy of you, Ellie,” Liam said, turning to face me. His gaze was fierce, protective. “Not him. Not any of the guys you’ve brought around. They’re all soft. They don’t see what you are. They don’t know how to handle a woman who’s got fire in her.”

His words were a mirror to Gunner’s. Something… hotter. The comparison made my skin prickle.

“So, you’re done,” Liam stated, not a question. “You’re done with him. Tonight. You call him, you tell him it’s over, and you never see him again.”

“I already left,” I whispered. “It’s over.”

“Good.” He walked closer, putting his hands on my shoulders, his grip firm. “Now, I’ll deal with that bastard properly. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

A cold dread washed over me. “Liam, no. Don’t. It’s over. Just let it be.”

“Let it be?” He scoffed. “He chased you down the street. He grabbed you. He made you cry. He doesn’t get to

‘let it be.’ I’ll make sure he understands what happens when he treats my sister like that.”

The violence in his tone was clear. It was the same violence I’d just witnessed from Gunner, but from Liam, it felt different. It was familial. It was righteous. And it terrified me because I knew Liam wouldn’t stop. He’d find Mark. He’d hurt him. And if he found out Gunner was involved… if he found out about the journal…

If my brother found out, he would definitely kill Gunner.

The thought was a ice-cold spike in my chest. I had to keep Gunner out of this. I had to bury that journal, bury the truth, bury the way my heart had stuttered when Gunner said Yeah. I do.

“Please, Liam,” I pleaded, my voice desperate. “Just… let me handle it. I’m okay. I just need to get my stuff from the apartment. I need to move out.”

He studied me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re staying here. Until you find a new place. And tomorrow, I’ll have someone help you move your things. You shouldn’t go back there alone.”

“Who?” The question was out before I could stop it.

“Gunner,” Liam said, his tone casual, like it was the most natural solution. “He’s got a truck. He’s strong.

He’ll get your stuff out in an hour. And he won’t let Mark near you if that prick shows up.”

My breath caught. Gunner. Coming to help me move. Tomorrow. Being in my apartment. Being near me, after everything that had just happened.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I stammered. “Gunner’s… you always said he’s trouble. You warned me about him.”

Liam’s expression softened, but it was a pitying softness. “Ellie, Gunner is trouble for girls who don’t know what they’re getting into. For you, he’s just a friend. A loyal one. He’d never try anything with you. He knows you’re my sister. He respects that.”

The lie was so absolute, so confident, it made my stomach twist. Liam believed it. He believed Gunner saw me as a sister, as off-limits. He didn’t know about the journal. He didn’t know about the fantasies. He didn’t know about the punch, about the confession.

He didn’t know that Gunner’s respect had nothing to do with boundaries and everything to do with a different, more dangerous kind of claim.

“Okay,” I said, my voice small. I had no choice. Refusing would raise suspicion. “Tomorrow.”

“Good.” Liam squeezed my shoulders once more, then let go. “Go get some sleep. You look wrecked.”

I went to the guest room, the one I’d used as a kid. The bed was the same. The walls were the same. But I felt entirely different. I dropped my bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands.

The journal was inside the bag. A secret. A bomb.

I couldn’t leave it there. I had to look at it again. I had to see the words, now that I knew they were meant for me. Now that Gunner had admitted it.

I pulled it out. The leather was warm, almost alive. I opened it, flipping past the sketches and notes until I found the last page I’d seen. The entry from yesterday.

I’d fuck her right here, on her brother’s porch, with the sun watching, so she’d never forget who owns the heat inside her.

I read it again. Then I read the one before it.

I want to pin her against my bike, not to hurt her, but to show her how strong I am. I want her to feel my hands on her hips, gripping her, holding her steady while I take her from behind, hard and fast, until she’s screaming into the wind. I want her to know that her safe, quiet world is a lie, and that the real world is this: my body, her body, and the fucking raw truth of what we both want.

My skin flushed. My chest tightened. These weren’t just fantasies. They were declarations. They were a blueprint. And Gunner had just shown me, in the street, that he was willing to act on them. He’d fought for me. He’d claimed me in front of my cheating boyfriend.

And tomorrow, he would be in my apartment. Alone with me. Helping me move.

The thought sent a shiver through me, a mix of fear and a deep, forbidden thrill. He’d be there, in my space, touching my things, looking at my bed, my clothes, my private life. He’d see the remnants of Mark, of the relationship that had just crumbled. He’d see the emptiness.

And he’d see me.

I closed the journal, hiding it under the pillow. I lay down, but sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gunner’s blue eyes locked on mine after he punched Mark. I heard his voice. Yeah. I do.

I saw his hands, those strong, tattooed hands, gripping the toolbox in my brother’s garage. I imagined those hands on my hips, pinning me against his bike, just like he’d written.

The heat he’d described, the “heat inside her,” was now a real, pulsing thing inside me. It was confused. It was scared. It was desperately, dangerously curious.

Tomorrow, he would come. And I would be alone with him. And my brother, my protector, would be nowhere near, believing his best friend was just helping his little sister move a few boxes.

But I knew. I knew what Gunner wanted. I’d read it. He’d said it.

And now, lying in my brother’s house, hiding his dirty journal under my pillow, I had to decide what I wanted.