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Misael nudged Bishop with his foot. “This dumb lug was afraid that when you went back home and were reminded about how good shit was in the high life, you’d forget about how good it was here. With us.”
Bishop averted his gaze, looking almost bashful for the first time since I’d met him, and my heart squeezed in my chest. I couldn’t even blame him for feeling like that. If I was in his position, the fear would be real too. Hell—I had my own fears, worrying about whether or not they would care about me or want me when I was no longer around and in their immediate presence.
I reached out, tilting his head up to meet his gaze again.
“That’s why I wanted to come over today,” I said softly, glancing from him to the two boys beside me. “I wanted… to talk with the three of you.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that.” Bishop was watching me carefully, his expression serious.
“I… I want to tell my parents about you three. How I feel about you. That I want to be with you. I want it to be an open thing, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. People at Slateview got used to it. They didn’t even bat an eye. The people from my old life can get used to it too.”
Bishop’s hands tightened around mine, and I felt the other two boys shift closer to me, but they didn’t speak, giving me room to continue as I forged ahead.
“I don’t want the kind of relationship my mother and father have, where one of them is lying and the other one is just blissfully unaware of it. Where they’re only in it for convenience or status. I want… I want what Nathaniel and Josephine have. It doesn’t matter to me where you’ve come from or what you’ve done. I know you care about me. That’s what matters. And I…”
My voice trailed off, and I felt all three of the boys around me lean forward, as if they were drawn toward me by a magnetic force. As if they were as desperate to hear the words as I was to say them.
Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed aside the last vestiges of the old Cora, the one who was too cautious for her own good, the one who did what she was told without considering what she wanted.
The
n I spoke the truth that had been sitting in my heart for weeks.
“I love you. All of you.”
The air seemed to go still around us, as if it was cradling the words, holding them aloft for the boys to savor them.
The hazel of Bishop’s eyes darkened before seeming to light up with a flare of sparks. Still on his knees, he pressed himself between my legs, hooking the back of my neck and hauling me to him for a kiss that made my world spin. Misael barely waited for my lips to disconnect from Bishop’s before he was kissing me too, and when Kace turned me toward him, I felt like I was drowning in these three boys.
They were the ocean, beautiful and dangerous, and I was the shore they broke themselves upon.
“We love you too, Coralee,” Bish murmured roughly, claiming my lips again as the three boys pressed in around me.
Kace’s breath tickled my ear, and I felt his words in my soul as much as I heard them.
“We need you, Princess.”
Twenty-Eight
I stayed as long as I could at the warehouse.
The four of us abandoned our beers and ignored the snacks, the boys feasting on me instead, and then we all ended up on the couch in a rough pile. I draped myself over all three of the boys, relishing the feel of their bodies so close to mine, unwilling to leave them so soon after seeing them again.
But it started to get late, and then it started to get early, and I knew that if I wanted to get home before my parents woke up and realized I wasn’t at home, I needed to get a move on.
The boys all kissed me breathless before I left, and I promised to see them again soon.
On the way back home, I thought about how I was going to bring up the fact that I wanted a relationship with the Lost Boys to my parents.
It wasn’t so much a matter of when, but mostly how. I knew I wanted to do it as soon as possible, so there was no question that this was what I wanted. Getting my parents in the same room at the same time might be a hassle; they were still mostly avoiding each other. Father was pouring his time into work, into getting his business back up and running, and Mom was back to socializing with her lady friends at the country club, spending long hours there gossiping and sitting by the pool.
When I pulled up the drive and parked in the garage, the sun was just coming up. I darted upstairs on quiet feet and stepped into the shower, hoping if Mom or Dad heard me, they’d just think I was up early on a Saturday morning.
After throwing on a soft, expensive top and a conservative skirt from the closetful of new clothes that’d appeared in my room over the past week, I headed downstairs to find some breakfast. I could tell I would be tired later from my lack of sleep, but right now, I was too wired to even think of going to bed.
I padded down the large, curved staircase, passing by my father’s office on the way to the dining room.
He sat behind his desk, his laptop out and open, already deep in the middle of something even though it was early on a Saturday. He was settling back into life as a man with things to do, pieces on the chess board to push. I hesitated as I walked by, wondering if I should talk to him about the conversations we’d had while he was in prison. About his promise to do better this time around.
