“You have the plague, man?” Nash asks with a nod of his head toward Darius, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“I sure fucking hope not,” Dare responds with a laugh.
“Why don’t you want to touch him then?” Nash asks me, his gaze piercing as if trying to dig out my secrets with that playful smirk still clinging to his lips.
“Such a sweet bunny,” Blake murmurs under his breath as he wipes a thumb across his lower lip, a smile playing across his face. “No need to be afraid of our reactions.”
I feel slightly called out, like they all know the attraction I’ve been fighting for so long. Swallowing, I close the distance between us, his warmth instantly sinking into my side as his hand innocently lands on my knee.
Keaton presses against my other side, sandwiching me in between the two of them. An unexpected warmth flows through me, a sense of complete safety. Something I value more than ever now.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Keaton’s voice seems to vibrate through me, commanding my attention with his no bullshit tone. “Tristan won’t tell us where he was until you can listen too, so that’s what we’re going to do. Then we’ll discuss not shutting people out when we’re in pain.”
It’s a lot of words at once from Keaton, at least it is when it’s not just the two of us. That alone has me refusing to be defensive, even if he didn’t directly call me out on it.
My hand squeezes around my notepad, and I swallow, bracing for the pain even though my throat has mostly healed from it. The echo of hands choking me out is still there even now.
Needing a distraction, I flick my eyes to Tristan. His gaze is fixed on me now instead of the floor. Knowing my attention is on him, he takes a step forward and begins his story fromthe moment we stepped off stage together on the day he disappeared.
I thought I hated, despised, downright loathed Napalm Delights before, but now it’s amplified tenfold. I fucking hate, hate, hate them. The way they manipulated me, separated me from everyone else in my life and made me entirely dependent on Dickless… ugh! I want to stab them or something.
They deserve worse than that, though. I wish gruesome deaths on them all, long, drawn out, and painful as fuck. Especially since they thought they’d killed Tristan and left him for dead!
Top of my to-do list: write a song about them dying.
Before I’m even able to think it through, I’m crawling from my spot between my two guys and across the bed to where Tristan stands and throwing my arms around his neck.
The movement has me teetering on the bed, forcing Tristan to compensate to hold on. He hisses, and I try to move back, worried I somehow hurt his ribs, but he squeezes me to him tighter, not willing to give up the contact.
“I missed you so much, Lexi. I’m so fucking sorry you thought I disappeared on you again,” he whispers in my ear. His hand moves to the back of my head, fingers weaving through my hair and cradling me so perfectly it makes me want to cry.
Taking a deep breath in, I’m consumed with the smell of him and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. I want to be closer to him, to hold on and never let go. He’s my first love and always will be. There’s a connection there that no sense of time or heartbreak can fracture.
Bergamot and leather fill my lungs, a scent I can’t get enough of.
“I’ll never leave you again, Lexi. That is, if you’ll let me stick around.” He kisses the side of my head. “I know you have Darius playing lead guitar now, but I promise I won’t be deadweight. We’ve written amazing songs together, I’m useful there.”
The doubt in his voice shows how vulnerable he’s feeling. I’m not sure why he thinks he has to play some vital role in the band, I couldn’t give two shits about that. He can sit around and be a sugar thirst trap for me, and I’d be fucking happy.
I just want him.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“I’ll earn your trust again,” he murmurs, his voice cutting off with choked emotion.
“I know,” I say out loud, unable to keep the words inside. Two syllables filled with grit from disuse, my voice sounding dirty and ugly. I don’t have time to dwell on it because Tristan draws away from me, taking his warmth and tempting me to make a squeak of objection.
His hands quickly cup either side of my face, holding me steady in front of him so he can carefully catalogue every expression, judging if I’m serious or not.
He must decide that I am, because a weight seems to slough off him, his shoulders appearing to not be as heavy and the tension in his face is quickly replaced with a growing smile. He kisses my cheeks multiple times, his lips soft. Each one makes me want to melt as his happiness flows out of him.
“I love you, Lexi.”
Tristan settles me on his lap as everyone else finds seats around the living room. I have to admit this is better than the bedroom as far as being able to see them all, but at the same time, I miss being squished between Keaton and Dare. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy having Tristan’s arms wrapped around me…
My emotions are tender right now, my heart ripped to shreds finding out what happened to us at Napalm Delight’s hands. Changing his contact information in my phone to one of their numbers? Who even thought of such a thing?
What would’ve been if that never happened? What would our lives look like now?
