Then a drunk guy fell from his balcony… which just happened to overlook an embankment. We had to fish him out of the creek this morning. And right after that, a carbon monoxide alarm went off in the building nearest the police station.
Honestly, the cops could’ve handled that one themselves, butI think they’re still pissed at Dom—and by extension, at us—for reporting those two officers. I couldn’t care less. When the chief searched their devices, there it was: proof they’d been taking pictures of Ayden and me.
Whatever. They can lick the shit off my boots. No one fucks with him. Anyone who tries will understand why people used to fear me on the field.
Now, I’m showered and finally stretched out in my bunk, with Corey snoring above me. My calves, thighs, and ass ache. Sure, I work out daily—running, lifting, hitting the gym during my three-day shifts—but these back-to-back calls are wearing us all down. Dom’s even considering bringing another body into the squad. Honestly? I’m all for it.
Arizona was always busy, but we had triple the people—if not more—depending on the time of year. You’d think I’d be used to it, but here I am, groaning as I sink back into the mattress.
The sudden thought of Ayden rubbing out every ache in my body has me reaching for my phone. He’d texted me before showering, and I had to wait until after so as to not be tempted to send a suggestive mirror photo.
Ayden
Tomorrow, see Dad and Mom? Then Saturday do you want to see a movie?
Outside of the cabin. You fall asleep too easily
Not my fault the couch is so comfortable
Uh huh. The couch.
Mhmm.
But yes, a movie sounds wonderful, sunshine
It takes him a few minutes to respond, and I know it’s stupid, but it worries me. I’m confident we’ve taken enough precautions to keep Michael from getting anywhere near the cabin. From motion-sensor cameras to our unusually attentive neighbors, I know he’s safe.
Still… he’d be even safer if I were always with him.
Ayden
Awesome
What’re you doing?
Laying down, it’s been a day
What about you?
Laying down.
*gif attached*
The gif plays of some guy speaking on the phone, and text that reads,‘So, whatcha wearing?’.
I chuckle.
I’m not sure how far I want to take this, because I’m already battling how badly I want him. Lying in his lap the other night was a huge mistake. My dick was so hard I’m surprised my balls didn’t revolt in protest from the ache.
But I know he’s hurting too. We’re both fighting it for the same reason: that image of it being wrong. The way he looked when Alysa called us family—his expression mirrored exactly how I felt.
Fucking defeated.
That said, no one is ever going to see my texts with him… or maybe I don’t care as much as I think I do what other people think…
MaybeI’m fighting it because I’m afraid of hurting him, again.
Only if you tell me first.
