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I wanted to kill that fucker too with my hands, and Wells made sure he and I were on opposite corners of the room. There were couches in the big suite Bru had been crashing in and Wells sat with me while Thatcher took the easy chair near Bruno. We all basically surrounded the door, and I had a feeling Wells’s decision to babysit me on the other side of the room was because of fucking Thatcher. They hadn’t really talked to each other since we all got together, and clearly, there was still some tension there. I wasn’t happy with Thatcher either, but that last shit he’d said had gotten to me. The shit about knowing what Sloane running again would do to me.
I hated he was right, but I wouldn’t admit he was right. Not about this. This wasn’t about me.
It’s not.
I pushed my emotions away, staring at the door. My gaze clashed with Bru’s on the way back, and when he shook his head, I sat up. “Got something to say, man?”
I literally was taking back all the good shit I’d said about him in the past. He’d been a decent dude up until now, and I got he was trying to have his sister’s back, but what he’d done was really fucking shitty. He knew she had a family here and was one of us.
He fucking knew that.
He knew she had a twin brother, and he chose to go all silent and shit knowing this entire town was going crazy looking for her. They had a TV in here, so they knew what the fuck was going on. Bru crossed his legs. “I don’t have anything to say.”
“Seems like you do.” I pocketed my phone. Wolf wasn’t answering it anyway. “So say it.”
“I wouldn’t.” The advisement came from Thatcher. He gazed up from his phone. This was probably solid advice my friend was giving Sloane’s brother, but that didn’t stop the dude from cocking his head at me.
“I just hope he’ll relax is all. When she gets here?” Bru swung his head in my direction. “Dude looks like he’s going to punch something, and things are already tense with my sister.”
“I said I wouldn’t, bro.” Pocketing his own phone, Thatcher grew two sizes next to Bru, and that said something. My friend already wasn’t fitting in the chair he sat in. “Make no mistake. I helped your ass out, but I will always be with my boy here. He wants to kick your ass, I’ll let him, so I’d watch what you say to him.”
I didn’t need Thatcher coming to my defense. I could handle my shit, but it was nice to know where he was right now.
And I did know he’d always have my back.
Like Wolf recently, it seemed a few of us were keeping secrets in regard to Sloane, and if I had a secret to keep, one she entrusted me with, I didn’t know what I’d do.
Yeah, you do.
He had been trying to protect her and have her back, and no one got that more than me. The need to protect her. The need to keep her safe…
“Let’s just all relax.” Wells lifted his hands. He was always the more laid-back one out of all of us. He looked at me. “You okay?”
That was him asking if I was going to punch something. I shrugged, and with a sigh, Wells glanced at Thatcher. “You okay over there too? If shit starts hitting the fan, and I get a shiner, I’m not going to be happy about it.”
I smirked, and Thatcher did too. If Thatcher and I got up to shit, Wells knew he’d be in there too. Fucker had our backs, and even if he was mad at Thatcher, or any of us, he would stand up for that person. We were all just that close, and I noticed my friends nod at each other before they both went back to their phones. Their beef wouldn’t last long, never did.
“Guys?”
We all swung our gazes to the door, Wolf easing inside.
He wasn’t alone.
We all got to our feet when a girl in a jacket behind him surfaced. She was in Wolf’s jacket, the hem hitting her toned legs, thighs bare and exposed. The jacket sleeves touched her at the fingertips, and she tugged the hood of a hoodie she wore beneath down. Dark and wavy curls fell out of it, a thick wave of brown-black, and I swallowed.
Cookies.
A wash of them hit me, like Christmas morning and birthday parties. Like happiness, sadness, and everything in between. I’d clearly forgotten what she smelled like, what she tasted like, because all that came back the minute she was in the room with me. I was reminded about each flick and taste of my tongue, and the hints of soft scent that came off her skin while I did it. I was reminded how I hadn’t had it.
And how I hadn’t had her.
Her face was different, not thinner or anything, but tired, weary. Subtle shadows underlined her eyes, and she had a bruise on her fucking face. It was yellow and faint, but it was there, and before I had time to react to that, her goddamn brother crossed in front of me.
“You okay?” Bru asked her, and I stopped myself from reacting and doing the first thing I wanted to do. That thing included taking her away from here, away from everyone and even Wolf. It included keeping her with me and not only making sure she was okay, but keeping her, claiming her.
A subtle squeeze to my forearm let me know I wasn’t fighting off those urges by myself. Wells and Thatcher surrounded me, and while Wells had my arm, Thatcher had my shoulder. They were keeping me here.
They were helping me fight.
