Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“Wasn’t gonna argue. I don’t think I can manage by myself without busting my ass anyway.”
I already had my own shower stuff and towels in the back of the car, so when we got back to the campground, I pulled right up to the office building and gathered everything I needed before helping Wolfe.
No one was in the bathroom, so we were able to find a stall without any awkward small talk. Inside, I turned on the water and began peeling us both out of our nasty clothes.
I wanted to ask Wolfe a million more questions. But under the fluorescent lights, he looked exhausted, so I told myself to be patient.
He’d had a fucking ordeal. I knew his head and ankle were still throbbing. Of course he wasn’t in the mood to talk about Fletcher Coe.
I just wanted so badly for Wolfe to trust me, to let me help him carry the weight of this, it was harder than it should have been not to push.
Instead, I gave him as much tenderness and care as I possibly could, moving his naked body beneath the hot spray and holding him in my arms as we let the water wash away the dirt and work its magic on our freezing skin.
Wolfe turned and buried his face in my neck, running his thumb absently over the scar on my side before throwing his arms around my neck and swaying a little bit as the water cascaded down around us.
Eventually, I began washing him with the bar of soap I’d brought. The clean scent filled the space around us with the warm humidity of the shower water. The murky water at our feet finally turned clear while I continued to run soapy hands all over his body.
It wasn’t sexual. We were both too tired and sore for that. But it was intimate in a way I cherished. If Wolfe needed comfort and reassurance, I wanted to be the one to do it. I loved every minute of holding him while crooning words of affection and praise against his damp skin.
But I’d be lying if I said that, even as I held the man I loved close, I wasn’t also thinking of the asshole who’d tried to take him from me.
Jake Mason had hurt Wolfe. Abused his trust. Probably amplified all his well-founded fears of fame. Had made him question himself.
I wanted him to pay dearly for that.
23
WOLFE
Trace had reminded me that Jake’s actions reflected on Jake, not on me, and I knew he was right. I also knew Trace believed his own words completely. That he didn’t blame me for what happened this afternoon.
But now that the initial terror had faded and I was safe in Trace’s arms, I couldn’t stop thinking about the other danger Jake presented… and it was hard not to want to kick myself.
Jake knew I was Fletcher Coe.
From what Clay had said, Jake would be spending the night in a cell, so it was unlikely he’d have a chance to post the news on social media right away. But I had no way of knowing who else he might have told. What fail-safes he might have in place. How long it would be until the tidy dam separating the two parts of my life imploded.
All because I’d gotten careless.
God, I was so fucking tired. And my ankle throbbed. My quads shook from the effort of getting down the mountain on one leg while holding the other up away from the slippery ground. Standing under the hot spray felt amazing, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand here.
“Hey,” Trace said softly, his arms tightening around me to take more of my weight. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe, I promise.”
I shook my head. Trace had no idea.
“I need to get out of this shower,” I said. “I’m sick to death of being wet. I want to pull on every article of clothing I own, then crawl under my duvet in the van.”
“I endorse this,” Trace said with a nod. “As long as I’m allowed to come.”
I huffed out a laugh and squeezed him once. For a man who’d made my life so fucking hard, he sure made it easy, too.
But there were some things he couldn’t fix, even if I’d let him. Like putting a genie back in its bottle.
I just kept thinking there had to be a way around this. A way to neutralize the information Jake had or to convince him not to reveal it in the first place.
Trace shut off the water and grabbed towels to dry us off. Then he helped me into a soft pair of his sweatpants and one of his big T-shirts and got me seated on the built-in wooden bench next to the shower stall so he could dress himself.
“Jake had my journal,” I said. “That’s what we argued about. He asked me to introduce him to Papa, I said no, and he… he threatened to reveal what he’d seen in the journal.”