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"I don't like how she was touching you all," I admitted. My voice was still angry and he chuckled in my ear.
"I like it when you're jealous."
"Not just you three," I clarified. "She should lose all of her credibility."
"She will. Your dad was already on the phone with the organization," he admitted, letting me go so he could see me face to face.
He bent down and brushed a kiss over my lips.
"Having your hands all over us was the highlight of today, though," he admitted with a smirk.
"Same," I huffed out a laugh. "Definitely the only good part of that whole thing. We may need to invest in some massage oil. I could work out all those tense muscles after practice."
"Dammit, woman," he groaned, pushing down on his cock that was now standing at attention.
"What are you doing now, brat?" Brock called out as he walked up, his arm around Tate's shoulder. My stomach was right back into knots at the look on Tate's face. I was going to end that woman for this. Even I knew he had issues with touch.
Except when it came to the guys or me. Something I felt honored he allowed at all.
"Need me to go out for a few drinks tonight?" Elias asked at the sight of them. Brock nodded and I chewed on my lip, unsure.
"I'll go..." I trailed off, fighting for my life trying to think of an excuse.
"No, please," Tate said. His voice was strange and hollow. I nodded, going to him without hesitation. He pulled me close and buried his head in my hair, breathing me in like I was his salvation.
"Let's go home," Brock said. There was a hint of vulnerability and worry in his voice. They’d told me they were together but hadn't really shown me anything about that side of their relationship.
"We've got you," I promised Tate.
I'd do anything to chase that look off of his face.
But murder plans would have to wait until tomorrow.
Tonight was about him.
ChapterEighteen
Brock
Tate pulled Macy into his lap the moment we got in the car, ignoring her protests. He didn't let go as I carefully drove them through town and back to our place. My face was set in a worried mask but inside, I was furious.
He'd done so well keeping his mental health in check lately. But ever since we rescued Macy and he’d opened himself up, it'd been popping back up.
My heart slammed in my chest at the reminder of what would happen if it got worse.
I still couldn't shake that night from my head. We lost a game and came back to our place. I found a letter from the prison on our table and didn't see Tate anywhere. Reading his personal letter wasn't my finest act but the moment I saw the accusatory words tearing my best friend down, I saw red.
"No, Tate, what did you do?" I choked out as I dropped to my knees next to the tub. There was an empty bottle of pills on the floor next to him and I knew what his plans were.
"I didn't take them, they're in the toilet," he admitted. My eyes went to the bowl, seeing the colorful pills floating there. My entire body sagged in relief and I crawled over to him, clasping his hand in mine.
"I'm not good for you. I'm broken," he said, voice cracking as tears trailed down his cheeks. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his expression killed me.
"Look at me," I growled. "You are not broken. Don't let them have that power over you. You're my best friend, lover, and an amazing man if you'll let yourself. But baby, you have to get help."
He closed his eyes and nodded.
"Hey, are you alright?" Macy's gentle voice brought me out of my memories and I gave a weak smile.
