The only reason I’m not actually sick is because their collective tension falls several levels. I see it in the way their shoulders drop, the lines on their faces smooth out, and the deep breath that Hudson takes as he looks away from me.
Derek tempts another step closer, holding out a hand to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to assume. Why don’t you come and sit with us on the couch, and we can go through it together?”
This is it.
This is my last moment to leave.
I shift to the side and take a look back at the door, trying to assess my feelings through all the buzzing nervousness, fear, and I think…excitement.
Just as I’m sure I want to stay, there is a very quiet plea from a man that I am sure would never beg.
“Please.”
Heart in my throat, I turn back to Derek and find him significantly closer. We’re within touching distance. All I need to do is reach out and put my hand in the one he is holding out to me.
My gaze traces up his arm, over his button-up covered chest, to his face, and find eyes full of heartbreak and hope. “Please, baby. Stay and talk to us. Show us the changes you need. Walk us through what you need to feel safe with us again.”
His voice is rough, nothing like what I’m used to hearing from him. It’s broken and so full of emotion that my chest aches for him.
I want this. I want this. I want this.
I. Want. This.
With them.
As I raise my hand and place it in his, our warm palms connecting, every single nervous butterfly, bee, and wasp soothes itself into a gentle glide. Everything settles into place because I have my Daddy with me, and he is going to help me put this all back together the way we all want it.
Derek’s fingers close around my hand, and my eyes slide closed as I revel in the sensation, my body flowing along as he applies gentle pressure to pull me closer to him. My cheek presses into his chest, his musky cologne wrapping around me as he cups the back of my head with his other hand.
“It’s okay, we are going to sort everything out.”
I feel his voice more than I hear it. The deep timbre makes me want to rub my face against him like a cat. But I don’t, obviously.
I tip my head back to look up at him, not sure what I want to say, but like every other time I haven’t known how to ask for what I want, he seems to know exactly what I need. Pulling back from me, he turns and leads me to the couch, my hand conveniently still in his.
As we get closer, my gaze flicks up to the TV, and I come to such a sudden halt that Derek accidentally yanks on my arm. He looks from me to the TV, and his cheeks turn a little pink.
“I, uh, paused it when I saw Oakley sitting alone.”
A grin starts to form on my face. “Were you watching me?”
“We were watching the game,” he mutters, tugging on my hand. “When the camera was showing the crowd, I caught sight of your friend and paused it on her. You weren’t there.”
I allow myself to be dragged along, but when he tries to guide me down onto the center of the couch next to Xavier, I take matters into my own hands and sit on the coffee table, facing the four of them, since Darcy lobbed himself over the back and is sitting on the other side of Hudson.
My gaze roams from one side of the couch to the other, taking in each of their faces.
Darcy. Hudson. Xavier. Derek.
Darcy reaches forward and holds out a hand. “Here, let me take your bag for you.”
I look down at where he is gesturing to my shoulder and frown. Fuck, I forgot about that. Shrugging out of the bag, I offer it to him, careful not to crease the papers any more than they already are.
Once he has put it to the side of the couch and returned to sitting, we go back to the awkward stare off from earlier, and I start to wish I didn’t give up my bag. Now I have nothing to fiddle with to try and deal with this nervous energy running through me.
“Why don’t you show us what you want to change?” Hudson asks, shifting so that he is on the edge of the couch, angled toward me.
Nodding, I go to the first page and find the first sparkly red ink mark I made while in the cab. As I’d left the arena, there were several taxis loitering out front, which sparked a bratty idea.
