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I curse and haul him back to his feet. “I’ll help you get him to your vehicle.”
“I’m sleeping in my booth.” Rune takes my father’s other arm. His weight nearly knocks the fragile woman over. I can see exactly how my dad’s night is going to go, and it’s not how he’s planned.
“I’ll do it.” Bexley rushes over and drapes my dad’s arm over her shoulder. “Lead the way, Rune.”
It’s quieter walking down the vendors' aisle, away from the music.
“So, you and my dad really aren’t the only ones staying in your booth.”
She chuckles, but I hear the worry in her voice. Worry that I plan on spending the night with her. “I told you, there’s a group of us. Very top secret.”
“Very top secret,” my dad mutters.
Rune’s tent is small, with a standard round palm reading table and two chairs. I deposit my dad in the corner on a high pile of shimmering and sequin throw pillows and blankets. The rest of the booth has the same boho feeling with lots of pink and orange colors.
“Have a good night.” I hold the material door while Bexley slips underneath.
“You too.” Rune touches each of our hands. “Remember, you’re both connected. It’s the right time.” The door falls closed, leaving us alone in the darkened pathway.
My emotions are heightened. I can thank the alcohol for that. Rune’s telling me one thing, and Bexley’s fucking scared of me, and all the feelings swirling inside me feel ready to explode.
Bexley laces her fingers together in front of her. "I don’t need you to stay with me—”
“Why are you afraid of me, Bex?”
***
BEXLEY
––––––––
“AFRAID OF YOU?” I repeatthe question as if I heard it wrong. Which I’m kind of hoping the drinks I’ve consumed tonight altered what I think I heard him say. Because me being afraid of him is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’ve always felt safe and protected by all the Creed men.
From the intense way he stares at me, he’s dead serious and waiting for my answer. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“If you want to be friends, I can be friends.”
“Okay."
"I stand by my word,” he grunts the word out.
"I believe you."
He doesn’t look convinced. The creases on his eyebrows deepen to the point of looking painful. His jaw twitches, and his eyes search mine as if he’s trying to find a different answer.
"I am not afraid of you.” I reach out and touch his forearm. I feel his muscles flex beneath my fingers. “Why would you ever think I’m afraid of you?”
“The fear in your eyes earlier when we were in the tent, and you said you can’t give me whatever I’m looking for. That goddam fear.”
Most people would be afraid of any Creed sibling. They’re big and burly badass men wearing leather and ripped jeans while straddling a massive metal bike between their thighs. I’m not most people.
I step closer. “Any fear you might’ve seen was my own. Fear of falling back into old routines. Of crushing on you so hard that you’re all I think about. Day and night. And then some.”
He chews on my words for a silent minute that feels like a lifetime. I chew on my words. Maybe less would’ve been better. Had I said too much? At the same time, I never want Johnny to think I’m scared of him.
“You’re crushing on me, Bex?”
Laughter tumbles out of me. “That’s what you took away from everything I said.”
