Page 17 of Wild for the Knight

Unlocking her side when I’m done, I climb into bed. My thoughts race as I run through the mental checklist of things Dr. Williams told me to do. “First, son, you need to find someone you can trust with your mess. Most likely, this is someone you haven't met yet.” My thoughts were, ‘Open up to a stranger? Yeah right.’ Apparently, that's common because he immediately followed with, “I know, but sometimes you feel like you have to be a certain way around people you know. Keep up the persona you’ve built. For someone new, they don’t know you yet. You can be whoever you want.”

Vulnerable Abby might as well be a new person, right? I’ve never seen her cry, yet in the past few days, I’ve seen it twice. She’s always quick to the draw with her cutting words, yet she’s been quiet and introspective most of the time. We wouldn’t be Tate and Abby if we didn’t claw at each other every chance we got, though, the bickering is still there. There’s just no heat behind it on her part. It’s like she’s just too tired to fight. I don’t even want to think about why that bothers me. I repeat the affirmations Dr. Williams gave me until I slowly drift to sleep; my last coherent thought is a pair of light brown eyes staring daggers in my direction.

I wake up to the smell of coffee brewing, which is odd because Abby, like Hannah, only drinks iced coffee. When I get to the kitchen, I discover she left to get her own, but she knows I drink hot coffee, so she made some and left it in the pot. I chalked it up to a metaphorical olive branch. Our peaceful truce lasted all of about five minutes when she tried to turn the fireplace on before she opened the vent. It was forty-three degrees when we got here last night; for us Floridians, that might as well be in the negatives.

My brother and Hannah are six hours out, meaning we have that amount of time until everything needs to be done and in place. My half-bubble of peace is popped as the front door swings open and the Peanut Gallery walks in. Monroe looks like a lumberjack in a red and black flannel shirt and furry hat. Reed’s lips are pulled into such a scowl I think they might be stuck that way, his exasperated look tells me he wants to smack the former upside the head. Andrews and Wilson file in behind them. But it's my roommate who catches me off guard. “The hell are you doing here?” I growl, which shocks all of us. Myself mostly.

“Reed invited me. Figured I’d tag along. Keep the boys in line.” He smiles, then turns to Abby. “Hey, Knight.” She doesn’t say anything, which has his head tilting to the side, eyes assessing her body language. “You okay? Do I need to kick Tatum’s ass? Was he mean to you?” She stiffens a bit before Reed slings an arm around her shoulder, and she relaxes into him. The possessiveness I feel isn’t normal. The fact that I know how perfectly she fits under my arm has me wanting to pull her out of his embrace. I hate it. It also doesn’t make any sense, because I don’t want her.

“No, much to my surprise, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” The entire room breaks out in laughter, but her eyes meet mine, and she gives me a soft smile. One that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, one that looks just like the self-deprecating one she gave me the other night. One that says “thank you.”

“Okay, boys, glad we have more hands to get things done. Let’s get the rest of these decorations up.” She claps her hands in front of her, trying her hardest to fake her enthusiasm. It may fool them, but it doesn’t fool me.

She puts her hand on Reed’s stomach, pushing off slightly before giving him a blindingly fake smile. I watch as she saunters over to the banner I was too stubborn to help her with last night. “Wanna help me hang this, captain?” Her eyes hold Reed's for a second before they meet mine, and she smirks.

My feet move before my brain can catch up. “Give me that,” I grunt as I snatch the long, pink, flimsy piece of fabric out of her hands. Her laugh is music to my ears. She may have given them a fake smile, but this laugh was real, and it was just for me.

“Thanks, Sunshine.” She winks and walks away. Abby - 1, Tatum - 0.

Chapter 8 - Abby

My head is a mess. It has been since we ran into the three assholes that haunt my life. No one seems to notice my fake joy except for Tatum, the man sees right through me. A tiny fact that drives me up the freaking wall. Maybe it wouldn’t if it were anyone else, but I’m already having an internal battle. My mind hates him, my body clearly hasn’t gotten the memo. Like Sleeping Beauty, one touch of his lips and it magically woke up. Freaking A, Batman.

I’ve put the pink cowboy hat on the hook by the door, the banner is finally hung over the fireplace, thanks to my little reverse psychology play. If there’s one thing Tatum is, it’s prideful. Do I use that to my advantage? Absolutely. Do I feel bad about it? Not even a little bit.

There are tiny cowboy boots on every flat surface in the house. Their bedroom has their favorite picture in it, along with the custom-made boots wrapped up nicely and sitting on the bed. Everything on my “pre-arrival” checklist has been ticked off, and I feel like I can breathe in that aspect, but I’m struggling to breathe when I think of everything that has transpired in the past few weeks.

The chaos that is four hockey players and two soccer players echoes through the house; their locker room banter and louder than life laughter is overstimulating. I need a minute of silence, so I slip out onto the balcony attached to the master suite. The crisp air hits me like a sucker punch, sharp, and with a bite. I welcome the sting. It hurts less than realizing that despite me becoming the controlling, overbearing person I am today... It was all in vain. The second I recognized them, I froze like a deer in headlights.

Something I never thought would cross my mind, does at this very moment. Thank GOD for Tatum Wilder. The trees move in the distance, their newly sprouted flowers dotting the branches. New growth, a change of the season. Life. Could I learn to just go with the flow? I know that, regardless of the tight grip I’ve tried to keep on literally everything, I’m not happy. Am I capable of making that change? Of letting go instead of moving through the motions, and doing what I thought was necessary to keep me safe?

Have I been wrong this entire time? I watch as a butterfly lands on the railing a few feet from me, its wings opening and closing before taking off as the wind blows. With it comes a fresh, earthy scent. Rich with the smell of the blooming flowers, yet it mingles with something fainter. Pine and fir. The large trees stand tall and strong against the backdrop of the towering mountains, and from the sound of it, there's a stream nearby. My admiration is cut short when I hear the door slide shut behind me.

“Hey.” Tate’s voice slices through the air, curling around me like a blanket. A shiver runs through me as I feel the heat of him at my back. Screw you, body. Now is not the time to betray me like this.

“Cold?” he asks.

“No, I just needed a minute of silence before the real chaos starts.”

He hums as he comes to stand next to me. “Wanna talk about it yet?” Crap-a-doodle.

“I do not.” I wrap my arms around myself, a defense mechanism I’ve tried hard to let go of. His backside hits the railing of the balcony next to me, his hands landing on the wood on either side of his hips. There’s an intensity in his stare that feels like a silent battle of wills, but unlike our usual clashing, it isn’t filled with disdain. A dangerous mix of curiosity and hesitation swirls in the air as he watches me.

I look back at the trees in the distance, trying to focus on anything but the man to my right, the weight of his presence making me squirm. We crossed a line, one we had no business crossing. And while I’m thankful that he did what he did to get me out of that situation, I’m not a fan of whatever this is.

“I’m a good listener, Tink.” The coaxing lilt to his tone is firm. A scoff leaves my throat before I can stop it. “Come on...” His voice is almost pleading, one glance at him steals whatever oxygen I had left.

He’s looking at me like he sees every crack in my carefully pieced-together armor. Every fragile piece I’ve tried to hold together, protected by my “unbothered” attitude. My eyes drift to his lips. I hate that I know what they feel like. Warm. Gentle. Devastating. But most of all, I hate that I want to feel them again.

The door flies open, and Zeke sticks his head out, faltering for a brief second before he says, “Hey, love birds, they’re ten minutes away. We need to pull the cars into the garage.” He’s got a sickly sweet smile on his face, and my cheeks heat with the insinuation. I don’t wait for either of them to say anything before I hurry back inside.

This isn’t the time or place. This is about Hannah and Greyson. Okay, and maybe some pranks, but that’s beside the point. It’s game time. The cars are hidden, all the lights are off, and we’re hiding behind the huge L-shaped couch. I feel him before I see him, his energy pulling at me like a magnet. “Saved by the bell,” he whispers, his breath a gentle caress against my ear. “But I’ll get it out of you at some point.” Right, good luck with that little buddy.

He opens his mouth to say something else when the door creaks open. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you. I just need to grab the bags.” Greyson’s voice fills the otherwise silent cabin. My heart rate increases, adrenaline pumping through my veins as I count their footsteps. One. Two. Three... This has been a long time coming for them; I just hope we can make this week as magical as they deserve.

He flips the light switch, which is our cue. “SURPRISE!” We all yell in unison. Hannah shrieks as she folds herself into Greyson’s arms. One eye pops into view, looking around the room from under his arm. When she realizes it’s us, her eyes fill with tears, but there’s a huge smile on her face. I kick myself for thinking she would be mad about us being here. This woman has wanted to be part of a family for as long as I’ve known her.

“You guys!” She yells, laughing so hard she has to put her hands on her knees. Her head falls toward the floor for a few seconds before she gives it a small shake as she looks back up at us; her eyes land on me, and the tears I’ve been fighting all day threaten to spill. “Abby, this is amazing.” Her arms wrap around my neck, and I blink super fast, looking up at the ceiling to keep them at bay.