Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Army grabs me, the table legs scraping against the floor as the others mobilize. “Goddammit, Dallas!” Trace bellows.
“Army!” Liv scolds.
They rush into action, Army’s eyes spitting fire.
But Aracely makes it to us first. She throws her arms between us, trying to push him off. “Look at his face,” she tells Army.
It takes a minute to remember my fight with Callum. I haven’t looked in a mirror, but I register the bruises. The ache around my eye.
“He wasn’t having a party last night any more than we were,” she snaps at him. “Stop it.”
Liv is there, helping push him off, and I leave.
Someone catches my arm, and I almost whip myself out of their grasp, but I see it’s her.
“We were worried,” she whispers, everyone returning to their seats at the table. “We…”
We love you, she wants to say.
It’s the same look of hesitation that he had on his face that morning I dropped him off at his car and his father was waiting.
It was in his eyes, though. All the words he wanted me to hear.
I knew then that he wanted me more than anything, and I’d made a mistake.
My sister knows better, though. My family doesn’t say things like that to me. They know I wouldn’t know how to respond.
I walk up the stairs, hearing my mother crying as I sometimes do and feeling so heavy. I need another shower and a drink. And the beach in the rain sounds good, too, but…
Being alone doesn’t feel appealing, either.
At the top of the stairs, I see Macon’s bedroom door open, the soft little sobs becoming clearer. It’s not in my memory. Someone’s crying.
Inching forward, I take them both in, Macon sitting on a chair and Krisjen straddling him. She presses cotton to his face, her chest shaking with tears she tries to hold back as she nurses his cuts and scrapes from the fray he got into trying to make it home last night.
He slides his hands up her thighs. “Baby, I’m okay.”
She nods, her expression like a child’s who’s trying to keep a straight face.
I watch her dab the cotton pads, soaking up the small amount of blood, and a pang hits my chest.
“You won’t be left alone again,” he tells her.
She swallows, and I can tell she’s trying so hard to prove she can be his wife and be strong, because last night wasn’t the last scare she’ll ever have.
“I’m not scared for me.” She trembles, leaning in. “I love you so much.”
I blink as he takes her face in his hands, my brother’s constant rage and steel for so many years giving way to tenderness and devotion to a woman he never thought he’d be lucky enough to call his own.
They kiss, almost melting together, and then she wraps her arms around him. “Can’t you just stay home all the time?” she whimpers.
I falter, my stomach knotting.
He laughs, and she laughs, and they start making out with full force.
Lifting her into his arms, he stands up and kicks the door closed behind him, taking her to bed, no doubt.
My parents looked like that sometimes. Macon and Army were old enough to remember a lot more, but their love was strong. Too much passion, and it killed my mother, because she didn’t survive losing my father for long.
Drifting into the bathroom, I leave the light off and wet a washcloth. I’m glad Macon has her. I like seeing him happy.
Dabbing the cloth, I clean my scrapes myself.
* * *
—
Something tickles my chest, rising up my neck and landing on my lips. I jolt, opening my eyes. Callum hovers over me, my sheet covering my bottom half as I lie naked in bed. Glancing around, I notice Iron asleep on his stomach in his own bed, the ceiling fan rocking a little as it spins. Darkness looms out the window, but the gray sky tells me the sun is close to rising.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but he smells fresh—soap and cologne—as if he just woke up, showered, and came over.
“Don’t kick me out.” His nose brushes mine as he stares at my mouth. “I’m thirsty.”
He dives down, and I plant my hands on his arms out of reflex, but once his mouth touches my neck, the fucking butterflies swarm my goddamn stomach. I love having my throat kissed.
“Fuck.” My eyes dart over to the next bed. “My brother is right there.”
“Is there another room?” Callum asks.
His lips trail down to my pec, biting and kissing. “No,” I reply.
“My car?”
My dick rises. “It’s too small.”
We did it in there yesterday. I want more room with him.
He climbs down, kissing and pulling down the sheet. He sucks me into his mouth, pleasure and heat washing over me, the hair on my head feeling like it’s being pulled from the inside. “Oh, my God,” I groan. “Don’t stop.”