“I should let you fucking kiss the ground, but I like your husband too much, and I’m a fucking patriot.”
“Get your own husband. That one’s mine!” Then I remembered what else he said. Confused, I looked at him, cocking my head. “I thought you were a SEAL?”
“Jesus, that boy is done for!”
“I’m not.”
Declan stood in front of me. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s get you to the bedroom. Maybe a shower will sober you up.”
Adam and Brock guided me across the backyard. Behind me, Declan yelled, “Eight weeks. Eight long, lonely weeks. I hate you all. I hope you know that.”
Laughter broke out behind me, and I tried to look around, but the world twirled on its axis.
“Declan, come help Brock get him to the bedroom. I’ll get all the stuff you’ll need for the night.”
“Thanks, Adam.”
“No problem. We shoulda warned you. Foster and Walker are assholes. They did the same thing to Brock and I. Only they got us both shitfaced.”
“I’m not shitfaced.”
“Dude, you’re so far past shitfaced it’s comical,” Brock laughed.
“I’m still trying to figure out who told my parents we were married.”
“I don’t think anyone did.”
“Whattya mean?” I asked vaguely, realizing that didn’t sound quite right. “Why’s my mouth thick and fuzzy?”
“Because you’re drunk, Hayden. But to answer your question, Declan, you’re wearing wedding rings and looking at each other with heart eyes, and you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself if you tried.”
“Why’d we try that?” I asked.
“Umm, because there were kids and your in-laws present, not to mention your Gunnery Sergeant.”
We stopped, and I looked around.
“This ain’t my house.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“But I need to get back to my house. Vato, we need to get back to the apartment. I have plans for that ass.”
“We will go back to your place, Papi. Tomorrow. Tonight, we’re staying here.”
“We can still fuck, though, right?”
“Man, I don’t need to know about y’alls sex life. Keep it to yourselves until I’m outta the room,” Brock said, lowering me down on the edge of the bed.
“Where’s here?”
“The house belongs to the security firm.”
I looked around the room. “I don’t work for the security firm. We’re not breaching protocols, are we?”
“You’ve not…”
“No, we’re not doing anything wrong. This house belongs to my Uncle Matthew. He owns the company.”
