Page 70 of Holden’s Resurrection

“We sort by size,” Bobby deadpanned.

“Well, then there’s no need to shuffle—you can scratch Holden in on the bottom.”

My eyes widened at Nixon’s comment. Was he being factitious or serious?

Holden shook his head and the pink in his cheeks deepened.

“Have they seen you?”

“Baby.” Holden chuckled.

Now I had to know. Holden was unusually large; if his name would be on the bottom of the list, I feared for the safety and well-being of the women around me.

“Seriously?”

“Charleigh, he’s joking.”

“Thank God. I was getting ready to ask how any of them walked if you were—”

I didn’t get the rest of what I was saying out because Holden tugged me so hard I face-planted into his chest. One of his hands rested on the back of my head and he held me in place.

“Fucking hell.” His voice rumbled against my cheek and his body shook with silent laughter.

“Now I have to know. I heard the evidence of what Chasin’s packin’ when I lived with him and Evie. I didn’t need verbal confirmation in inches,” Bobby continued her tirade. “But now I’m worried about our girl here. If it’s been eight years for her, I’m not worried about her walking—”

“Roberta,” Genevieve muttered. “Quiet.”

Holden went still, then he started vibrating, not with laughter but with something else entirely. The pressure on the back of my head increased, his other hand on my hip squeezed painfully, and for my part—I’d stopped breathing.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I was just joking around. I didn’t mean…shit.”

I didn’t know what to say, not that I could’ve spoken when my face was smooshed against Holden’s chest, but I felt like I needed to let Bobby off the hook. She hadn’t done anything wrong. I knew she hadn’t spilled my secret on purpose, she was trying to be funny.

I felt Holden press a kiss on top of my head before he released me and kissed my forehead.

“Gonna check on the girls,” he muttered.

Shit.

“Holden.”

“Later,” he whispered. “Love you, Leigh-Leigh.”

Then he was gone. Nixon followed, and once again, I was in the middle of the girl huddle.

“God, Charleigh, I’m so sorry,” Bobby reiterated.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do. I don’t know when to quit. I was just joking around, trying to push Nixon’s buttons.”

“He’s so used to it, it doesn’t faze him.” McKenna snorted. “Besides, the guys give him so much shit about being a house kitten, your jabs are like mini-pokes.”

House kitten, Nixon Swagger? Yeah, right. I didn’t believe that for a second. Nixon was a man’s man, meaning he was all-man, not a soft little pussy cat. More like a roaring lion.

“Charleigh?” Evie’s soft tone brought my gaze to her. “I really am sorry for being such a bitch. Thank you for forgiving me.”

“There was nothing to forgive,” I told her. “Holden told me, he asked you to keep me out of his hospital room. He also explained how close you are; the bond the two of you share is one born out of something horrific, but it’s beautiful nonetheless. I understand you wanted to protect him from me. And I think now you understand I would never hurt him.”