A faint grin warmed Cam’s stony features. “Whatever’s going on between you, my sister, and Locke, don’t be thinking you need him becauseyoucan’t be everything she needs.”
I wasn’t an irritable human. Not like Cam. So I was unprepared for the snap that exploded from me, unfiltered and raw. “I know that. Locke isn’t a consolation prize.”
“Easy.” Cam raised his hands. “I’m not talking about Locke—I love that dude. I’m talking about me, and how long it took me to realise Saint and Lexi didn’t need each other because I was shit at being there for them. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to waste that time.”
Words failed me. I didn’t feel like that... Did I? My heart was so busy right now, it was hard to tell. It also cracked itself a new fracture for Cam. He was everything to Saint and Alexei. That he’d spent a minute believing he wasn’t good enough made me want to break stuff.
Or, you know, hug the shit out of him.
I left the chapel with Cam’s smoke and leather scent all over me. Crossed the yard in a daze. I’d pretty much forgotten anyone else existed, but Rubi hadn’t. He’d corralled Saint and Ranger into the bar and bullied them into dry clothes and breakfast.
He heckled me as I passed through, but with Ranger’s black gaze haunting me, Rubi’s voice became white noise.
I tapped the code into the residence door and slipped inside, shutting him out.
Shutting everyone out.
My boots were loud on the stairs. At the top, I kicked them off and left them where they landed. I took a shower, ditching my clothes on the floor. Orla would have my balls for it later, but I was so fucking done with this night I couldn’t fix it.
The soapy water stung the abraded skin on my arms. I found a lump on my head from cracking skulls with Ranger, but it didn’t feel too bad. Nothing did, compared to the serrated axe I’d taken to my heart on the road tonight. The merciless reality check.
You knew all this, on some level at least. All Ranger did was confirm it.
Ranger. At some point, I’d have to apologise for making that shit so hard for him.
Later.
Fuck. Suddenly getting some kip didn’t sound so alluring. Not if I had to wake up.
I ditched my towel and abandoned the bathroom, padding naked and silent to my room at the end of the corridor.
It was still dark, but as I shut the door behind me, the bodies keeping my bed warm took shape. Orla in the middle, curled beneath Locke’s right arm, the sheets drawn up to her chest, sleeping soundly under his protection.
He was barely on the bed, spare arm flung over his head, left foot planted on the floor, ready togo.
Because he hates sleeping close to the door.
I found some sweatpants and tugged them on. Then I stood over the bed, sucked in by them. There was space for me on the other side, and yet I didn’t move, unwilling to disturb the peace they’d found together. On the rare occasions Locke didn’t wait up for me, it always felt like this.
Precious.
Sacred.
I wanted in, so fucking badly, but I needed this too—this quiet, perfect moment to gaze down at them, her soft curves interwoven with his masculine brawn. Her dark hair spilling over his tattooed skin.
The wetness that dropped from my face onto his forearm.
I swiped my eyes with the back of my hand and crouched to ease his leg onto the bed.
Locke was a light sleeper. That he didn’t react made me hope it was because he knew it was me. A faint glimmer that grew brighter as I stretched out beside him and lay my head on his chest, my pulse finally slowing to the steady beat of his heart.
The tears kept falling, but as his arm lowered to wrap around me, I felt strong enough to survive them.
20
NASH
“Nash.”
