AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Stop it,” Shay admonishes. “Tonight is going to work out. It’s clear you all love each other. Even the densest person can see that.”
I scratch the back of my neck, contemplating her words. Love. “Love is not enough to sustain a relationship. Trust and love go hand in hand. I have to be able to know they won’t abuse my feelings for them so they can take advantage of me. After every?—”
My eyes shut, hoping to ward off the pain. Inhaling, I center myself so I don’t fall apart where I stand. “After everything, I need to know it’s not another ploy. I’d murder them. Mercilessly,” I hiss, glaring as I ball my hands into fists. I’d be on the next episode of Snapped or Cold Case Files. My training this summer will go a long way in ensuring I’m never caught.
“Okay, Harley, stow your stabby hair sticks,” she teases. “And remember, you’re too pretty for prison, but if you absolutely need to kill one of them, I’ll stage a prison break before they even read the charges. Then we can hide at my family’s estate in Jamaica.”
Her joke eases the tension, and the tightness in my shoulders dissipates, making my mood far less volatile. Smiling, I retort, “As long as you promise hot guys, I’m there.”
“No the fuck you’re not—not if you want the island of Jamaica to still exist,” Lev growls.
I snap my head toward his voice and almost melt where I stand. Lev’s hair is in a messy bun, showing off the shaved sides of his head. He’s wearing gray, black, and white flannel and distressed dark-wash denim jeans. His jaw flexes, accentuating the sharpness of his stubbled jaw.
“Wipe yuh chin, bitch,” Shay giggles, snapping me from my trance. Then, she turns to Lev. “And I’m going to pretend you didn’t threaten my country.”
Shay leans over and hugs me from the side before reminding me to make them work for it. I smile, squeezing her back before we part, and she exits the room, leaving Lev and me alone in the room.
“Hot men?” he quips, arching his brow as he strides over to me.
“What about hot men?” Owen questions, entering the dining room. Wes, Wyatt, and Sebastian quickly follow behind.
Lev answers, brushing his thumb along my cheek. “Ariah, here, thinks she can run off to Jamaica with Shay, be with hot men, and leave us behind.”
Sebastian bends to kiss me. “Oh? Is that right, Spitfire?” he murmurs, breathing along my neck. “Ten,” is all he has to say, and shivers travel the length of my spine, making my pussy involuntarily clench.
“I didn’t actually do it. So, how does that count?” I whine.
Smirking, Sebastian’s fingers trail up and down my arm. “As if you actually need to do anything. Eleven,” he hums, and I yelp when I’m pulled away from him.
“What men?” Wes demands, pulling out my chair. I sit, and he takes the seat next to mine.
I stare into his chocolate-brown eyes in shock. Wes has barely spoken two words to me since I’ve moved in. Outside of threatening to punish me for trying to lift boxes during the move, it’s been radio silence.
He’s part of the reason I’m terrified to settle in. Wes’s journal professed so many mixed emotions. He was angry, unremorseful, conflicted, and hurt. I can still feel each stroke of his pen as if it were a blow.
“Now you’re speaking to me?” I quip. I guess now is as good a time as any to do this.
In for a penny or whatever.
Wyatt sits to the left of me, with Lev sitting next to him while Owen and Sebastian sit on the other side of the dining room table.
Clenching his jaw, Wes pauses and then speaks, “I wanted you to get settled before we had this conversation.” He picks up the cloth napkin before me, unfolding it and laying it across my lap. My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline. “Don’t look so surprised,” Wes jokes. “I do have some manners. Just not in the bedroom.”
Snickering, Wyatt states, “Smooth. Don’t speak to Riri for days, weeks even, and you’re showing up to dinner with your dick in hand instead of an apology.”
Wes glares. “I’m not sorry,” he grits out. “I’d do everything I did a million times over if it meant we ended up here with Ariah, the babies, and Owen safe.”
“Let’s at least feed Ariah before you two set off the next world war,” Lev commands as the servers bring in the dishes.
Steak, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and asparagus are placed in front of me, but I’m stuck on Wes’s words. I’m not sorry. . . I’d do it again. “Choosing to save Owen isn’t the problem. It’s that you, all of you,” I point my steak knife in each of their directions. “Didn’t ever fucking consult me,” I snap, slamming my hand on the table.
“Why don’t you put the knife down, Angel? Then you can yell at us like we deserve,” Owen suggests.
I want to snap back, ‘fuck you,’ but he’s right. “I should stab you for all the fucking liberties you’ve all taken,” I seethe and place the knife down.
“When exactly did you want us to ask you? Huh?” Wes challenges. “Was it when you ran out of the room, or maybe it was when you packed your bags and ran off without so much as a word?” Wes’s voice rises with each question. “Wait, let me guess. It was when you cut off all communication with us?”
“Fuck you,” I scream, standing. My chest heaves, and I ignore the thunk the chair makes when it hits the ground. “Fuck you for thinking you have a right to be angry at me for leaving after you ripped my heart out!”
