Page 20 of Wild for the Knight

Monroe: More beautiful words have never been spoken.

Abby: In the closet in my room, there’s a purple bag. Inside, there are penis-shaped straws. One for everyone. We’ll start small.

Monroe: Good plan. I’ll get them.

Monroe: Wait, why are there snakes in here?!

Abby: If I have to spend a week with Oscar the Grouch, I might as well have fun with it. He’s terrified of snakes.

Monroe: Diabolical. I like your style.

Abby: Getting the actual groceries. See you in a bit.

Monroe: BACON4LYFE!

“Monroe thinks you guys can eat all the bacon they bought in the next week... Is that doable, or should I start making bets? I’m on a winning streak. Reed isn’t too happy about it.”I ask as I tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

“Didn’t see how much there was.” Ahh, back to cold Tatum. Got it.

“Okie dokie then. Let’s get this show on the road.” Unlocking the door, I step out into the Georgia spring air, it’s starting to grow on me. I like the cold to start and end the day. The walk into the grocery store is short, and soon, the heat is smacking us in the face. “Ahh, that’s nice,” I say as I grab a shopping cart, pulling out the list I wrote in my journal. The same list I texted to Monroe, and he completely ignored it.

Deep breaths, you are getting the train back on the tracks. Start at aisle one and move through them in order.

Tate points at the list in my hand, “Can I take a picture of that? I’ll get the stuff on the bottom half.” I start to say no, but his hiked eyebrow stops me in my tracks. Sighing, I hold out the list and watch as he grabs a basket and makes his way toward the opposite end of the store. I mean, my list is organized by aisle number, but all stores are different, so this may be a game of Where’s Waldo instead of a quick trip.

Chapter 9 - Tatum

What is wrong with me? I don’t do this. I’ve known her for two years and have never felt the bone-deep urge to protect her like I do right now. I’ve never felt anything but annoyance. I don’t have answers; all I know is when she confirmed those assholes hurt her, I saw red. I said friends, but honestly, I’m one stop short of begging her to give me a chance. Begging her to see how good we could be together.

But mostly, I want to beg her to let me protect her, which I know would go over like a lead balloon. What I don’t understand is where these feelings came from. Is it because Dr. Williams told me I should try to start letting people in again? Or is it all the time we’ve spent together over the past few months? We’ve been dancing around each other for years now. Is our hate just disguised interest?

I know Reed was trying to see if he could make me jealous. Hopefully, I hid it well, but deep down, I wanted to punch him in the face. Wanted to pull her away from him so he couldn’t wrap his arms around her shoulders like he always does. She invades my senses, my mind, and I don’t know how to stop it.

When my basket is full and I’ve gotten everything on my half, I meet her by the checkout. “Do you need anything else?” She shakes her head and pushes the cart forward. When the clerk finishes scanning our items, she starts to pay, but I’m faster, tapping my card on the top of the device. She looks up at me, a soft smile gracing her face. One that looks angelic, one that tells me this quiet, gentle version of Abby might just be the real version. The one hidden under that tough girl exterior, the exterior that makes a heck of a lot more sense now.

After loading the groceries, I grab her hand as she walks to the driver's side. She looks at me over her shoulder, a blonde hair escaping her bun. I tuck it behind her ear before leaning in, “Those guys are scum.” I gently press a kiss to her forehead. “You deserve the world, Knight.” She doesn’t smile, just absently blinks at me before taking her hand out of mine and getting into the car.

I stand out in the cold for a few seconds after she shuts her door, letting the air calm the fire raging inside me. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, not since Nikki. I’m hesitant, but at the same time, there’s this pull to see where it goes. One that could end very badly for both of us, not to mention our friends. But I’ve never been one to play it safe.

Well, maybe in the dating aspect of life, given I shut that whole operation down. I’m pulled out of my thoughts when she honks the horn at me. I let my head fall back as a groan leaves my lips; this woman is going to be the death of me.

When we’re about five minutes from the house, I break the silence. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. At least not with me.” I watch as she digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She takes a deep inhale and then lets it out slowly.

“I don’t know what to do with this side of you.” Her chuckle is soft, and I find myself smiling. A genuine one. She catches it and gasps. “See!” She squeals as she bounces lightly in her seat. “In the two-ish years I’ve known you, I’ve seen that smile twice, both of which were in the last few days. Who are you, and what have you done with Tatum?!” My head hits the headrest as a deep, bellowing laugh leaves me. My eyes shut as her surprised squeal replays over and over in my head.

The car rolls to a stop at the mouth of the street the cabin is on. I look over to see her wide, unblinking eyes locked on me. I run my hand up the side of her arm until it lands on her cheek; she immediately leans into my palm. “This is the real Tatum,” I whisper. “The one that existed before shit hit the fan. Apparently, you’re the only one he feels safe enough to come out around.” I shrug as her mouth drops open.

Her mouth closes after a few more seconds, but she continues to look at me. Interest, confusion, and disbelief are all evident in the way her eyes trace over me. Each pass tracks like a physical touch; I can’t deny that I like being on the receiving end of her attention. Which is freaking weird because normally, I’d do whatever I could to not be in her line of sight.

“Can you bring grumpy Tatum back?” Her voice is tight, like she’s struggling to breathe. My eyes meet hers, and that's when I catch denial. I drop my hand until it’s resting on the side of her neck. Giving it a little squeeze, I nod. It’s easy to fall into that category when other people are around, but when it’s just her and I? I’m not sure I want to.

Abby stands in the kitchen cooking Hawaiian chicken with pineapple and rice. It smells delicious; my mouth is already watering. I want to ask if she needs help, but that would draw unwanted attention. So, instead, I sit in the corner of the room with a nice cold beer.

She cleans as she goes, wiping down every surface or utensil the second she’s done with it. She’s so lost in her head that when Monroe walks in, she startles. He whispers something in her ear, and I see the transformation in real time. They’re up to something; the mischievous glint in her eyes gives it away. They narrow slightly but shine a bit brighter, and she has her lips pressed together so hard they’re turning white.

When he finishes what he’s saying, she smiles and nods. He leaves, my gaze tracking his movement as he walks out the door to the backyard. I want to follow him, but the sound of a forceful hiss from the kitchen has my head snapping in that direction. Abby’s looking down at her hand in shock; I’m on my feet and by her side in four steps. “Shit.” I grab a towel and some ice from the freezer, gently cupping the back of her hand as I bring the makeshift ice pack to her burned palm. “Do we have any soy sauce?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her lips parting slightly. “Funny time to be thinking about Chinese food.” She breathes through the pain. I feel the corners of my lips pull up slightly, but I quickly school it when Hannah comes around the corner and gasps.