I love my brothers.
After we’d got dirtier in record time, then finally clean again, I dug my phone out and turned it on.
The missed calls and messages pinged through in a barrage of angry vibrations, and anxiety bubbled in my gut. Nausea.Fear. It was a sad fact that Lauren truly terrified me.
In the chaos of flashing notifications, Nash’s name popped up. Buying time before I faced Lauren’s wrath, I clicked on the message.
Nash:lauren came to the compound looking for you. she got saint. sorry.
Oh, hell. I didn’t want to know what that meant. My brothers were good at keeping the peace with Lauren—they knew how important it was. But with Saint, sometimes what he didn’t say was the loudest fucking thing.
I replied to Nash.
Decoy:sorry for the hassle. i’ll be in soon
Nash:it’s not hassle. just giving you a heads up that she ain’t happy.
Decoy:did she say y?
As if I didn’t know.
Nash:The usual bullshit. Abduction. Kidnap. Not sure what Saint said to her, but she blew out of here like an angry warthog.
Nash:This is Rubi, btw. Lord Nashie went for a piss.
I knew it was Rubi by the grammar. Like Folk andunlikeme, Rubi used punctuation and whole sentences.
Decoy:tell saint i’m sorry.
Nash:No need, brother x
There was every need. Whether I was talking to Nash or Rubi, the way my personal life kept blowing up in public was fucking embarrassing.
Folk padded into the room, towelling his hair dry. He wasn’t naked anymore. Probably for the best now real life was closing in on me. I opened some of Lauren’s texts, each one more combative than the last, but with enough subtlety that any response I made would make me look worse.
The anxiety in my belly grew hotter, flooding my veins. I rubbed the back of my neck and checked my calls. Sixteen missed. Five voicemails. And I still hadn’t read all her messages.
My phone left my hand. A warm presence covered my bare back and a strong arm wrapped around me. “I’ll read them,” Folk murmured. “If there’s anything you need to know, I’ll tell you.”
I leaned into his touch, making zero effort to reclaim my phone. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Neither do you.” Folk gave me a moment to truly protest. When I didn’t, he let his thumb loose, scrolling through the tirade of messages that made me feel like sticking my head in the oven.
While he read, his fingers traced lazy patterns on my bicep. It relaxed me enough to tip my head back against his chest, but the tension in my soul was there to stay.
Even when Folk tossed my phone over his shoulder. “There was nothing you needed to see in those messages.”
“I need to tell her about you.”
Folk kissed my neck, then backed off. “Maybe you should do it while she’s already hopping mad. Save yourself a new storm.”
The logic made horrible sense.
I retrieved my phone and clicked on the message I’d typed out and saved last night while I’d been waiting for Folk to come home.
just giving you a heads up that i’m in a relationship with folk—you saw him at the school last week. he’s going to be staying over sometimes when ivy’s here. she already knows him and likes him. you’re welcome to meet him properly if that’s something you want to do.
Last night, it had felt nuanced and reasonable. Now, with Folk in my bedroom, the scent of him still tripping my brain, I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t royally fucked it up.
