Page 19 of Laken's longing

Dad pulled the pants over Laken’s feet, then tucked the comforter around him. “Yes, now go grab him a glass of water and leave it on the bedside cabinet.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Jupiter grumbled, going to the bathroom in Laken’s room and finding a glass to fill.

He returned and placed it down, seeing Dad hadn’t moved. “Happy now?” he questioned, cracking a yawn.

Dad walked to him and before he could realize his intention, muscular arms wrapped around him in a fierce hug. The familiarity of it left Jupiter swallowing hard and he allowed himself to hold on with no prying eyes, burying his face into Dad’s neck and inhaling the clean scent of his body wash. It settled the nerves dancing around inside him like it always did. Made him feel safe. Protected from the monsters.

“You’re a beautiful boy inside and out,” Dad whispered against his temple. “And I can see you’re worried about Laken. We are too.”

“Somethin’s up. He was talking about shit being revealed.” He eased back to meet Dad’s stare. “Do you know what he’s talking ‘bout?” He witnessed the flicker of unease before it was gone.

“Maybe…” Dad kissed his brow. “You need to take your own advice, too.”

Jupiter groaned in protest, too tired to have this discussion and seeing whatever Dad knew of Laken’s problems, he wasn’t going to share.

“You heard that, did you?” He’d take one for Laken because that’s what brothers did.

Dad guided them out of Laken’s room and closed the door, and Jupiter got a good look at Dad’s expression.

“Yes, it was solid advice.” He gently cupped Jupiter’s cheek in a move that still surprised at the gentleness that came from this fierce warrior who’d saved him.

“Just give it some thought,” Dad said softly before walking back to his own bedroom and slipping inside.

He did and often, and the answer was always the same. His body held all his secrets, and he wasn’t sharing those with anyone. Love could go fuck itself.

Chapter Nine

Isley

You will not misbehave. You will not misbehave. You won’t.

Isley had taken to reciting this on a regular basis since returning from the trip to Paris. Laken’s fathers’ retirement basically threw everyone for a loop. Only it was much worse for Isley—it had to be with how he was suffering—when he had not seen love coming to bite his ass and take a huge chunk. It turned Isley’s life upside down, and inside out for good measure. He wasn’t sure if he could continue with the way things were anymore because who could have predicted that he’d end up rejected by the one person he had to spend most of his time with.

He cursed under his breath at his misfortune and how if he had kept control, things would not have turned disastrous post the visit to Darling Ranch, where his animal had given away a vital piece of Isley.

That’s right, cast the blame at me. You had feelings long before we went to the ranch.

Whoever came up with the idea—he suspected Silas because of what was revealed at the ranch between him and Ziggy—was to blame. His animal could go leap off a damn building because he wasn’t taking responsibility, not fully, for the mess of his life.

Laken, since Paris, had finally pushed Isley over the edge of his patience. Pushed. Knocked. Trampled into it. He had a huge well of it, and now the river of his patience was drier than any desert in the heat of summer.

That man!

Laken, god the guy was enough to drive a saint nuts. Isley prided himself on having never lost his temper or his cool demeanor, not once in a working environment.

Not once.

Not a teenie tiny bit!

Technically, they weren’t in the workplace when it had first happened in Paris. Then he was more miffed than furious. Louis would have tired anyone’s patience with his handsy nature, therefore it was understandable from anyone’s point of view to do what he did.

Since their return from Paris, Laken had created distance between them. Been dismissive. He wasn’t the one rejected, confusing Isley as to what Laken’s issue was with him. It should be him acting like an asshole, not the other way around.

He sighed dejectedly, trudging down the corridor to Laken’s office, doing his best not to think about all the ways he wanted to make Laken beg. Scent marking him wasn’t enough to repel Louis, though technically it wasn’t him but his animal side that had carried that out.

It was fun.

It wasn’t fun. It was naughty and I’m not like that,Isley argued back with his sugar glider side, for what felt like the hundredth time. He didn’t know what possessed him to shift and latch onto the back of Laken’s jacket as he’d left thehotel in Paris. He’d seen Louis waiting in the lobby when he’d returned, dejected about an evening alone. He had quickly found a restroom and shifted, leaving his clothes in the locked cubicle, to follow them. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d lost his own goddamn mind taking a chance to glide right into Laken’s hand in the full restaurant with the potential of being caught and killed by an unsuspecting member of staff thinking he was a rodent. This shit happened. When Louis had snuggled up against Laken in the booth—and in principle Laken was a free agent, which, of course he was—he’d lost it. Because all those heated moments when they had these weird stare offs that resulted in the room smelling of sex were giving Isley mixed messages. This was why he’d taken matters into his own hands, or more to the point, Laken’s. Could he therefore be blamed for what transpired after? No. He’d gate crashed the meal unbeknownst to Louis, refused to let go for an hour to teach Laken a lesson about messing with him, then promptly got a blatant rejection—nude.