Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“You okay?”
Penn’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I blink, realizing I’ve been lost in my thoughts again. His eyes are on me now, a hint of concern in them.
“Yeah,” I say, offering a small smile. “Just thinking about the game.”
His lips curve, just slightly, and that one look—soft and almost shy—makes my heart flip. “What did you think of it?”
“Loved it.” I respond, and I can’t hide the excitement that bubbles up. Can’t hide the pride in my friend. “You were incredible out there. Your talent is truly unmatched, Penn.”
His jaw works, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Thanks. It was nice having you there to cheer me on.”
The words are not overly effusive but coming from Penn—a man who has held himself in reserve for years—I know they have true meaning.
Warmth blooms in my chest and I hold on to that as silence settles again, but this time it feels different.
Solid and comfortable.
And not long lived.
Penn clears his throat, speaking quieter than before. “I told them,” he says.
It takes me a moment to process, my steps faltering slightly. “Told who?”
“The team.”
I stop completely. “Wait… you told them? About…”
Penn realizes I’m three paces behind and walks back to me. “Everything.” His eyes meet mine, steady despite the vulnerability I see flickering beneath the surface. “About the Wraiths. About what happened with Nathan. About the article and the danger, and the reasons I am the way I am.”
My heart pounds as I stare up at him. “Penn…”
He lifts a shoulder, looking almost uncomfortable now, like he’s not sure what to do with my reaction. “I had to,” he says softly, his gaze drifting toward the pavement. “I couldn’t keep carrying it around. Not with them. Not anymore.”
Emotion swells in my throat. “How did they take it?”
“Better than I expected,” he admits, his lips pulling to one side as we resume walking. “A lot of shock, sure. But… they’ve got my back.” He pauses, eyes locking onto mine again. “And yours.”
I swallow hard, my chest aching with something I can’t quite name. “I’m really proud of you, Penn. I know that wasn’t easy.”
He holds my gaze for a beat longer before his eyes drift away again. “It feels… weird,” he murmurs. “Lighter. Like I can breathe for the first time in a long time.”
My heart squeezes, and I resist the urge to reach for him. “You deserve that. And thank you for sharing that with me.”
He seems embarrassed by my praise, giving a slight cough. “I talked to Van after,” he says. “He put me in touch with someone—Jameson Force Security. They can help with the threats.”
Relief washes over me, so sudden and intense that my knees nearly buckle. “Really?”
“Yeah… his brother-in-law works there and they’re all like former Special Forces, CIA, Secret Service types. He says they’ll be more effective than the police as they have better resources.”
“Wow,” I murmur, letting that sink in. Is it possible that I could actually get a peaceful night’s sleep and not have to worry about the boogeyman jumping out at me from around every corner?
“I’m not taking any chances,” he says, and this time, when his eyes meet mine, there’s no hesitation. Only resolve. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Emotion chokes me, but I manage a shaky nod. “Thank you.”
The bar comes into view, its warm glow pouring out onto the street. The crowd buzzes inside, the hum of conversation and laughter spilling through the doors.
Penn’s posture shifts immediately, his shoulders going rigid as he surveys the crowd. He scans the room like a man on a mission, searching for King and Willa.
“Looks packed,” I murmur, my anxiety creeping up a notch. I don’t do well in crowded places like this—not since the threats started.
“Stay close,” Penn says, and before I can react, his fingers thread through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Heat floods me instantly, my pulse pounding in my ears as I glance down at our joined hands. His grip is firm, his thumb brushing lightly over my skin in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else.
God, I love how this feels.
Like I belong to him.
The space between us evaporates as he guides me through the crowded bar. Heads turn as we pass, whispers following us.
“Is that Penn Navarro?”
“Holy shit, it is.”
“Dude, get a pic—”
“Penn… can I get an autograph?”
“Not now,” Penn says to a female fan, his tone polite and leveled with a genial smile, but firm as he brushes past. “Maybe later.”
I glance up at him, surprised by how effortlessly he handles the attention. There’s no arrogance, no annoyance—just quiet control.
And damn if that doesn’t make me fall for him a little harder.
After a few more steps, Penn spots King and Willa tucked into a booth near the back of the bar, away from most of the crowd. Relief floods me at the sight of Willa’s warm smile and King’s easygoing wave.