Page 84 of Promise

“If we don’t move, I might attack you again.”

I chuckle, low and deep. My chest expands. She didn’t attack me. She . . . I don’t know what she did to me. Make love is too soft. Fucked me is too hard.

She clung to me.

For all her protests while dancing, she clung to me on those stairs, and I did the same to her.

“Promises, promises,” I tease, speaking quietly right near her mouth.

She leans forward and brushes her lips against mine. She isn’t kissing me. Not exactly.

“I promise,” she says against my mouth, then she pulls free and tosses back the covers, sliding out of bed.

She laughs, knowing what she’s done to me. I’m hard and horny . . . for my wife.

When we reach Mary Haven’s house, the driveway is full of pickup trucks. Saturday morning breakfasts are apparently still a thing around here.

“Hello,” Trinity calls out as we enter. The chatter coming from the back of the house signals that is where the majority of her family gathers.

Trinity enters the kitchen first. I stand behind her.

All conversation comes to an abrupt end.

Mary is standing at the stove. Cortland sits at the table. Vale is holding Mirabelle. Clint sips a mug of coffee while his little girl is seated beside Cortland, coloring.

And Tate slowly stands from his chair. “I just lost my appetite.”

The flinch in Trinity is subtle. Just a twinge of her shoulders, but it’s enough to raise my hackles.

“Tate.” My tone is sharp. “Can I have a word with you? Outside.”

The tension in the kitchen doubles.

Mary slowly turns, spatula in hand, raised and ready to speak.

“I’m leaving,” Tate announces.

“Outside.” I snap. “Now.” The gauntlet is thrown down. He can either step outside with me or look like an ass in front of his family.

He pushes in his chair, making it thud against the table, and slips out the back door.

Trinity’s head turns, her eyes concerned, but I rub my hand up her back and kiss her cheek. “Be right back.”

I expect Tate to sneak around the side of the house and disappear. Instead, he stands in the middle of the backyard, a space we’ve used for parties and family celebrations.

His arms are crossed, eyes aimed at me like arrows. Tate and I are roughly the same height. He might be broader than me, but I could still put up a good fight. And right now, Tate is looking to fight.

“Just what the fuck is the problem?” I stop a few feet in front of him.

“Are you serious?” He glares at me while fisting his fingers at his side.

“Look. I know I left. I know I hurt your sister. I broke my own heart at the same time.” I thump my fist against my chest. Tate has never been in love. Not really, and while it used to not bother me, each man to his own, his lack of a true relationship is one reason I never went to him with my issues. Besides those troubles revolving around his sister, I really didn’t think Tate would understand.

I love his sister, but it doesn’t mean marriage is easy. Relationships take work. Hard work. Tate doesn’t get that.

“Yeah, well, not everything is about you,” he snaps.

This pulls me up short. “Then what is the fucking issue? Because I’m not going anywhere. And our friends are still my friends.”