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Chapter 6
Addie
Despite my protests, all of the guys insisted on coming with me.
“It’ll be a mini vacation!” Ryder had said eagerly.
Ronan added, “Hopefully that means you’ll wear a bikini.”
I think those two would’ve blown a nut if I told them that I had never worn a bikini before in my life. I had too many scars, too many horrors that I preferred to keep hidden behind long sleeves. It had only been recently where I felt comfortable enough to walk out of my house in a tank top. The boys never judged me, and they never questioned the collection of scars on my wrists. They knew what they were from, and they helped me overcome it.
“You guys don’t have to come with me,” I said for the millionth time. We were in the living room of Sarge’s house, an assortment of suitcases loitering the small room. Mof, much to his displeasure, was in a small cage. I could hear his hissing from across the room.
The boys continued to talk over me, discussing transportation. Growling, I grabbed my own suitcase and walked out the door.
It took them a solid five seconds to realize what I was doing.
“Where are you going, Princess?” Ronan asked, sounding way too amused for the situation.
“I’m leaving. By myself.”
“No, you’re not,” Asher said. He, too, sounded like he was on the verge of laughter. That bastard was supposed to be on my side!
“I’m ignoring you,” I huffed.
Fallon’s house was in a small neighborhood, each house more stereotypical of a grandma’s house than the next. White picket fences, yellow siding, elaborate garden displays.
Yup. I would never not make fun of Fallon’s taste in bachelor pads.
“Are you just going to walk there?” Calax called.
I saluted him with my middle finger.
“Adelaide!” Fallon’s strident voice made me stagger to a stop. Frowning, I glanced at him over my shoulder. He must’ve been following me while the others stayed at the front door; I nearly ran into his stomach when I turned.
Stupid Fallon. Stupid Calax. Stupid everyone.
Scowling up at him, I crossed my arms over my chest.
“It’s not safe for you guys to go,” I said, low enough that the boys’ prying ears wouldn’t be able to hear.
“And it’s safe for you?” The question wasn’t said meanly, but as an observation.
“No,” I admitted. “But I don’t want anyone to risk themselves for me.”
He was silent for a moment, his handsome face deep in thought. “It’s your decision whether or not you wish to go, right?”
Nodding, I smiled gratefully.
“Exactly. My decision.”
“And is it not also their decision on whether or not they wish accompany you?”
His question threw me off balance. I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. Damn. Why did he have to go and add logic?
“But...” I floundered to come up with a legitimate excuse. “But did everybody agree?”
I didn’t want people to feel obligated to go because others on their team were. I had lived my entire life with a very vague perception of freewill, and I hated to think that I was depriving the boys of it.
