“When you’re ready for this relationship to be out in the open, it will be. Kristoff is stressed, and as much as he hides it, he’s dealing with his mother’s death in his own way. I trust you, we trust you.”
Great, well, now my eyes are welling up with tears, and I just put on the most symmetrical eye liner of my life.
“You do?”
“We raised you. If we didn’t trust you, it would be our own doing. You’ve always been someone who goes for what they want. Your dad will adjust. But I think it’s best you give him a little more time,” she says.
I blink a few times. “Did I mess up my makeup?”
“No, honey, you’re perfect,” she says, wrapping her arms around me. “Just keep us in the loop, okay? As much as we trust you, we want you to be safe. You sneaking around and not tellingus where you are is unacceptable. You need to turn your location back on for me,” she says.
My cheeks heat as I pull back, and I nod.
“Okay, yeah. I can do that,” I agree. Especially because I know she’s right. I know I’ve been trying to keep this all a secret, but safety comes first.
“Have a good date. Let me know if you won’t be home,” she says, squeezing my shoulder before leaving.
I swallow thickly and grab my phone.
You little traitor.
Dad H
I’m a weak man. They cornered me!
Likely story. You owe me, Dad.
Dad H
Well, we’re all keeping your dirty secret from Kristoff.
Ugh, having four parents is too much.
Dad H
Love you too. Have fun on your date.
Jesus, a girl really can’t keep a secret when she has this many prying parental figures around. I fix my makeup and drive two blocks in the neighborhood where Bram’s white SUV is waiting for me.
He gets out of the car and opens my door. As soon as he’s in my space, his massive hands are wrapped in my hair.
His kiss is nearly feral as he pushes my back against the car, and he kisses me like he’s taking his last breath between my lips.
It’s a cold ass night, and I can feel goosebumps on my legs, but all I really want to do is ride my skirt up and have him fuck me on the side of my car.
He suddenly pulls away and looks me up and down.
“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he asks, and I roll my eyes and grab his hand.
“So are we going out, or are we going right to your house?”
“Seems wrong to not take you out when you got so dressed up,” he says.
“This,” I say, waving my hand at myself, “was all in an effort to get knotted tonight. Please, for the love of God, take me back to your house.”
He scoops me up, his forearm under my ass as he carries me over to his passenger door, holding me with one hand and opening the other. He moves me gently into the seat, adjusting my dress and putting my seatbelt on before kissing the side of my head and pointing at me.
“You sit here, don’t talk, and let me focus on the road. If you’re good, I’ll give you what you want,” he says sternly.
