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His eyes snap up, meeting Ransom’s, a small frown builds along his brows, but it smooths when he looks back at me.
Ransom’s hands fall from my thighs, but I wait for the answer.
“We would if we wanted to.” He glances at Arsen quickly. “It hasn’t been about any of that, but with you, we realized it could be enjoyable, and I’m not talking nutting at the end,” he says unabashedly. “That part’s natural, but to actually feel good, to be excited and want to please? We’ve never gotten that outside of us.” He shrugs. “So, if we want to fuck with an added person, we will, and when we’re done, we’ll still be us. It’s not a plan, but we have no reason to limit ourselves. We know what matters, so we’ll do what we want when we want.”
God, the freedom in that statement.
Envy forms a knot in my abdomen, twisting.
“So, what if you find a girl you want to keep?”
They both laugh, but, again, share a look and shrug.
“Then we keep her, I guess.” Beretta’s grin is wide, teasing. “But so far, the only one we’d consider isn’t up for grabs.” He laughs, and both their eyes lift to Ransom’s as they climb from the table, and only a second before the bell rings. “And by the looks of it, that girl is in trouble.”
I frown and they smile wider, both walking away.
I glide forward on the seat, pushing to my feet as I grab my bag, but when I turn to Ransom, and he hasn’t moved, I pause.
A deep glower stains his forehead and his eyes pin mine.
“What?”
He licks his lips, looking off a moment and back in the next.
“If you think I’ll be fucking anyone who isn’t you, you’re wrong.” He rises to his feet, placing himself in front of me, his hand burying in my hair, right here in the middle of the dining hall, without a care. Without pause, though there is a slight shake to his hands.
My stomach flips, a strange tingling sensation spreading along my face.
He kisses me, and not gently either, but short and harshly, and when he pulls back, he adds simply, “And if you think you will be, you’re very fucking wrong.”
I don’t know what my face looks like, but he laughs, wraps his arm around my shoulder and leads us to cooking class.
At my seat, he nudges my knees apart, stepping between them with his hands in my hair.
His eyes tighten suddenly, falling to the floor. “What are you doing after school?”
I shrug and say, “Nothing.”
“I want to take you with me.”
Suspicious, my mouth curls into a grin. “Where to?”
He licks his lips, his gaze snaps to mine. “To see my sister.”
I freeze, my throat growing thick.
“What?” My question is nearly inaudible.
Ransom stands tall, waiting, but all I can manage is a nod, and slowly, he nods back.
He turns and walks away, but he doesn’t go back to his seat.
He slips out the door.
The others watch him go, both making their way to me, scowls in place.
“He wants me to go with him after school,” I share, slightly panicked. “To see his sister.”
Shock wrinkles their foreheads, but it’s quickly followed by soft smiles.
Beretta taps on the desk. “In case you were wondering, that’s fucking huge.”
My brows cave and they chuckle.
Class begins, but I can’t focus, forcing Arsen to carry us today.
All I can think about is Ransom and what this means.
Stepping inside the tall white building, we’re greeted by a middle-aged woman who must recognize Ransom.
Her eyes soften, and she sets a small clipboard down in front of us.
Ransom grabs a pen and the woman looks to me.
“Hi, can I help you?” She smiles welcomingly.
I stiffen and Ransom's eyes snap up.
“She’s with me,” he tells her.
The woman’s grin seems to double in size. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Sienna will be so happy to have her here.”
Sienna.
My lips curve.
That’s her name.
“In the garden, Mr. Rossi?”
Ransom nods, setting the pen down, and I glance at the form. It’s labeled Rossi 242, her room number maybe, and the sheet is nearly full of visitor sign-ins, each one the exact same. His.
His hand slips into mine and he walks us around the entryway and out through the large double door that leads to a mini pond and outdoor recreation-like area.
There’re a few tables and benches scattered around, a few other patients visiting with family members or friends, a small snack hut and a wall of board games that have been put to use for some time now, their boxes are faded, torn at each edge.
“He never comes to see her.” He frowns, grabbing my free hand and lacing it into his other one. He looks to me. “You saw the form.”
I shrug a shoulder, wrapping my hand around his bicep.
“He’s a dick, can only be bothered when they make him, when he has to sign orders and shit he can’t do by email, and even then, he complains about missing work. I can’t wait to get her out of here,” he admits a moment later.
