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“I’m wondering. Cheating doesn’t make sense to me, not unless something happened in her life recently and she’s pushing Jordan away.”
“Why couldn’t she just break up with him?”
“Not if something is going on with her. He would push, you know that. She was at our house the night before, at our documentary thing. They were both happy that night.”
He considered it, his shoulders rounding and falling forward. But then he sighed, looking at me again. “And what if she did just cheat? If there’s no deeper reason for it?”
“I don’t know.”
“She’s turned into a royal bitch again, that’s for sure.”
“I know.” But Tabatha wasn’t careless. I couldn’t see her cheating on a spur-of-the-moment decision, especially if she wasn’t drunk. So none of this made sense.
“You going to talk about what’s been going on with you today?”
I flashed him a grin. “I was being stupid. That’s all.”
He was studying me. “You still being stupid?”
I shook my head. “No. Just finding my footing here.”
“I love you.” His head lowered, his eyes pinning me in place.
My breath was taken, just like that.
We’d been through so much, and my love for him swelled up in my chest, threatening the tears to spill. I blinked them away, but my voice was raspy. “I know.”
This wasn’t a time when I had to say it back. He wanted me to know, to be reminded, and I was. I reached over, grabbed his hand, and tugged him into bed with me. I didn’t say the words back this time, but I showed him instead.
It was afterwards, when he was holding me against him, as he was curled around my back. His breath moved against my neck, his arms under my breasts. “Take backup with you when you confront Tabatha.”
I had to smile, even though it was only to the darkened room. He knew he and Zellman couldn’t help me with the girls. We might’ve been able to get away with breaking that rule last year, in Roussou, in our high school, but that was only on a few exceptions. That wouldn’t fly here, and it shouldn’t. Everything had been different in Roussou.
I didn’t have any female friends here, but … “I will.”
I had one person I could ask, someone I knew could handle herself.
His arms tightened around me, and I felt him moving my hair aside. His breath was on my neck before I felt his lips there. “Good.” Then his hand moved down, down, down between my legs and pleasure was rolling through my body within seconds as he slid a finger inside of me.
BREN
“You want me to do what?”
In a perfect world, I would’ve waited. At least a week. I didn’t have a week. But I did wait until later in the morning. It’d been an early morning, a seriously early morning, but I’d been jazzed for it. And when I showed up at Coug r Lanes for my first day, they had not disappointed.
I met the whole group.
Hawk was there, her mouth pressed tight as I handed over the paperwork she needed from me.
Gramps and Bonnie were there, both dressed in black clothing. Everyone had been wearing black clothing, but they’d also been dressed in their vests, Taser guns on the side, their badges hanging over their chests from a chain. The only two people who had actual guns were Hawk and another guy, the Brock guy that I thought Hawk had been.
Brock was a guy, and he had classic handsome features. A square face, with an almost square-like jaw. Intense blue eyes. His hair was a strawberry blonde, a small amount of curl, but he kept it trimmed. If he’d let it grow longer, his whole head would’ve been covered in curls. He had the beginning of a dark beard, or maybe he just hadn’t shaved. Maybe six-three, he had a linebacker’s body frame. Lean build, but muscular shoulders, and his legs were ripped. He looked like he could tear through someone at a second’s notice and not break a sweat. There was an intensity to him, a look given to him from how his eyebrows almost overshadowed his eyes. Pretty eyes, but the strong forehead made him look like he was plotting someone’s murder, when he was more than likely thinking he wanted to get a donut. It was his own sort of resting bitch face.
Shetland was the other guy, besides Gramps, in the group and he was almost opposite Brock in every way.
Tall. Gangly. He had a bowl-cut haircut. Straight up. I had to laugh because it looked like someone had literally put a bowl over his head and cut around it. But he had the same hair color as Brock, so I wasn’t sure if they were brothers or not. Same blue eyes, too, but a different face. Shetland’s face was long and angular. His cheekbones were washed out, almost flat. His mouth tiny, like a bird’s. His nose was too big for his face, and he had the same forehead as Brock’s, but it didn’t work for Shetland. It made him look deranged and moody at the same time. His one redeeming feature was his smile. When he grinned, it was infectious and caused everyone to grin.
