Page 34 of Wild for the Knight

Her gaze cuts back and forth between the two of us. But there’s no way she can prove he put it there, so instead, she says, “This was delicious, thank you, Abby.”

I should say “thanks” and move on. But I have no filter, and my response is a little more protective than I intended. “Tate cooked the noodles,” I say, “So, I can’t take all the credit.”

There’s a beat of stunned silence, followed by wide-eyed looks from every corner of the table.

“What?” I glance around the room, meeting everyone's gaze. Well, obviously, they didn’t expect that.

Reed clears his throat in a way that feels so awkward as he wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t let anyone help you. Ever.”

Okay, buddy, that’s quite the exaggeration. It’s not like I’ve gone through life without ever accepting help. Hearing it from him, though, makes my skin prickle. They know I hate being questioned, hate being in the hot seat. The sudden shift in the room is palpable. They’re all waiting for me to snap. My blood pressure starts to rise, but then I feel it. Tate’s ankle rests against mine under the table, offering me a line to hold on to.

I lace my hands together and lean my forearms against the edge of the table before sitting up straighter, feigning confidence I don’t entirely feel. “That’s not true.” I refute.

They all stare, and for a split second, I wonder if they can see how much I hide inside. If it would hurt them to know they don’t really know me. If they knew that the man next to me knows more about the real me than they do. I fight back the words that want to spill out, the words that would defend the ways I’ve protected myself. Instead, I hold their gazes, pushing back against the weight of the words left unspoken. Inside, though, I feel something cracking. Another strand of control snaps. The silence thickens, but my stubborn self doesn’t give in. Not yet.

Greyson clears his throat, breaking us all from the stare off we’re in. “So, who’s ready for book club?!” Yeah, that’s what we need.

When we’re all finished, I start to rinse off the pots and pans before putting them into the dishwasher. “Explain,” Hannah says as she hops up on the counter, her feet kicking like a child. I straighten myself out so we’re at eye level.

I shut the water off and dry my hands on the towel to my left, before leaning a hip against the counter. “We’ve come to an agreement. A truce of sorts until your wedding passes.” We haven’t talked about it honestly. Just the part about letting me in and him helping me loosen my grip on control. Oh, and then the part about him wanting to see where this goes. Things That Increase Abby’s Anxiety for five hundred, please.

“Does it bother you?” She holds my gaze for a beat before hopping off the counter and wrapping her arms around my neck.

“No,” she whispers, “I haven’t seen either of you this happy or at peace in a long time. It’s nice.” She squeezes me before she pulls back, locking our eyes. “I just don’t want to see either of you hurt.” Wait a second, back up.

“We aren’t dating, Han.” Her lips roll together, a choked sound escapes her lips. Her smile grows from non-existent to blinding before she breaks into a fit of laughter. One that hurts my feelings, if I’m being honest. I don’t know where the protective instinct over Tatum came from earlier, but even now, I find myself wanting to defend him and the ‘potential’ relationship we could have.

She wipes the corner of her eyes where tears start to fall, “No, I know that,” she chuckles, “Could you imagine? You’d probably kill each other.” Her head shakes, but her smile remains in place.

“I just mean, one day he’s going to find someone, maybe Chelsea.” She rubs her hands together. “She’s so excited to meet him when we get back.” My heart drops, and all of a sudden it’s hard to breathe. I know what he said, but then things got crazy, and did he really mean it, or was it a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing?

He turns the corner to the kitchen right before she says, “I love you both, but you’re so different.” Her hand lands on my shoulder, my eyes land on the point of contact before they trail up her arm until they make it back to hers, “I wouldn’t want either of you to get hurt by trying to force something that isn’t really there.” Her pitying gaze makes my stomach roll. “You’re not his type anyway. Pretty sure he needs a docile, calming woman. Like Chelsea.”

I’m at a complete loss for words, something that very rarely happens. I can’t look at either of them, so instead I let my eyes find a spot on the floor. It’s a really interesting spot, a dot of dark blue on the light grey linoleum. I wonder how it got there. Is there a story behind it? Could I make one up? All I wanted to do was get through dinner and go soak in the hot tub. It sounded like the perfect way to de-stress from the events of the past twenty-four hours.

I feel the waves of his anger before she notices his presence. “Respectfully, Hannah. That’s not what I need, or want,” he grinds out. He stands next to me, but angles his body slightly in front of mine, putting space between my best friend and I. Holy shit, his protective side is mind numbingly attractive. “What I need is someone who will challenge me. Push me to be better.” She flinches at the sharp edge of his tone.

His arms cross over his chest, making the back of his shirt pull tight, revealing the outlines of his muscles. “What I need is fire. I don’t need some housewife, and if that’s what your friend is...” She’s frozen to her spot, I’m not entirely sure she’s even breathing. “You should tell her I’m not interested anymore.” Her mouth drops open as she looks at him. The blunt and to the point Tatum she knew when they first met stands proud and unwavering in front of her.

Her mouth closes and opens a few times before she finds her voice, “No, no, she’s not like that. I just thought–”

“I said, tell her I’m not interested,” he seethes before stalking off in the direction of his room. Both of us stare in shock as he stomps his way across the living room, garnering attention from literally every other person in this house. Greyson’s head rapidly moves back and forth between us and his brother. He’s off the couch and in front of Hannah in seconds when he realizes there are tears in her eyes.

“What happened?” he asks as he runs his hand up and down her back.

I don’t wait around to hear her answer, I make my way to my room with my head held high, taking sure, steady steps. I shut and lock the door behind me before I fling the bathroom door open, only to find Tatum standing on the other side, chest heaving with his fists clenched by his sides.

Chapter 17 - Tatum

No one gets to talk to Abby like that. Not even me. Not my type, my ass. I’m learning there couldn’t be anyone more “my type." Maybe that’s why it’s so frustrating.

I’m standing in my room when I hear her door shut. I turn and face the open bathroom door seconds before her side swings open. The bewildered look on her face is stunning. God, I want to see her uninhibited more often. If this is what’s waiting for me on the other side? I’ll push her to that point every damn day.

In seconds, her chest is plastered to mine. Her arms come around my neck as she jumps and wraps her legs around my waist. Her hands slowly slide over my shoulders, then up my neck, coming to rest on my cheeks. The chill of her palms against my heated skin sends a shiver down my spine as she stares at me for a beat before resting her forehead against mine. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” She whispered.

It’s the only warning I get, before her head moves back and she twists a finger into my chain, pulling my lips to hers. This time, though, it's full of passion. She’s in control, and I’ll gladly let her have it... For now. Taking a step further into the bathroom, I close the door behind me and flip the lock.

The second her back hits the door a wanton sigh leaves her swollen lips, and my knees damn near buckle. I’m so far gone for her that I don’t even remember why we hated each other to begin with.