We’re here for her, we love her and that is solidified by Max and Zane as they tell her for the third and fourth time that she matters to us. No matter the differences.
The room falls into a slightly uncomfortable silence, the air heavy with uncertainty. The ball is in her court, waiting for her to make the next move. There’s nothing more we can say to convince her of our honesty, although, if she doesn’t believe us, that is far from the end. I will lock her in the basement before I let her take off all on her own again.
Bear’s face betrays her, outwardly showing the worry, fear, and panic she’s feeling. She’s trying to hide it, and to anyone else, it would look like she’s deep in thought, but Iknowher. Nevermind if it’s twelve years ago or six years in the future, I’ll always be able to tell. Addison Grant—sorry, Mikayla Arnet—is an open book, and I am her reader.
Chapter Thirteen
Mikayla
The silence in this room is becoming hella awkward. The four boys, well, I guess now the fourmen, whom I thought I could keep at a distance. To avoid them seeing the darkness that lies just beneath the surface, are standing in front of me declaring to see it. Their voices on repeat, telling me how they don’t care who I’ve become, they are just happy to see me here with them again.
And the sad part of it all is… I’m actually considering it.
The worry in their expressions and the pain that laces their words are as clear as a mountain pond. The way all four of them shudder to think about the past, and how we’ve been apart since that fateful day. Is it possible for me to stop running and not let them get hurt?Or worse.
Can Istay here, in Miami, with the men who’ve always been my light and warmth. Is it possible to not be alone anymore?
“Would they be okay with a murderer sleeping only a few feet from them? Able to kill a man twice her size with nothing but a bottle of shampoo and pure adrenaline. One who’s also being hunted by another ruthless killer?”my inner dark bitch sneers. Always there to snuff out any light of hope that blooms within my chest.
There’s no way. I know them, they would never openly accept me, no questions asked. They would hum and haw around the subject for a week, maybe two, but it would eat at them day and night. Eventually they would cave, hounding me for answers I can never give them. There’s also no way I could live day after day, knowing I’m hiding such a huge part of myself from them. It’s been years, we’ve grown up but apart. Them in lives of family Christmases and spending days on the beach. Mine in the shadows of the underworld, pressed under the thumb of corruption and mistrust.
I still love them. I never stopped loving them, but you don’t hide yourself from those who mean something to you. God I’ve missed them all these years, and as I stare at each of them I can appreciate how much they’ve grown into themselves. Taller, stronger, gruffer. Their bodies covered in ink—much like my own, as I wasted no time once I was free—their muscles toned and taut. Hands I’d like to see wrapped around me like a necklace, and abs that put packages of bread rolls to shame.
Fuck I need to stop this train of thought, before my pussy starts looking like Niagara Falls.
It’s been such a long time though since we’ve been together. Maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to give myself a minor reprieve? Spend a few days with them just like old times, and indulge in laughter, hugs, and companionship.
“Bear? Bear! Come back to us, Doll.”
Someone’s hand is cupping my face, others resting on my shoulder and thigh. My eyelashes flutter, my mind finally returning to the room and the men who are attempting to get my attention.
Jesus! When did they all get so close?
I’m still in the chair, my chin resting on one of my knees as I bite at my thumb nail. An unfortunate way I learned to dissociate while with Colt. It became easier to retreat into my own mind, playing through made-up scenes in my head like I was running a musical theater production, than to feel time pass slowly.
Judging by the ranging looks of worry on the faces in front of me, I’m guessing it’s been more than a couple of minutes that I’ve been in my own little space.
“Hmm? Sorry, was uh, lost in thought. What’s happening?”
“When was the last time you slept, love?” Zane asks with concern.
“Uhh, yesterday… I think.” I don’t actually know when the last time I got a full sleep was. My body has been conditioned to only go as far as a half awake state so I’m always aware of my surroundings—just in case. With the encounters of the guys at the beginning of the week, and me hiding out the rest of it, I’ve been on edge. No part of me has truly been able to relax as I made plans for where to go when I left here.
“God, Bear. Well, that settles it. You’re coming home with us. You can get some sleep while we arrange dinner and then maybe we can talk some more,” says Max. His eyes soften as if he’s silently pleading with me not to argue. He’s the only one not currently touching a part of me—why are they still touching me—uncomfortably standing just behind Zane, and rocking back and forth.
“Oh, uhh. That’s sweet, but I don’t want to be a nuisance. Plus, I still have the room for a couple of nights. I’m paid until check-out on Friday and I'll just find another place to crash on my way out of town,” I tell them mindlessly.
“No!” they shout, all four of them speaking in perfect unison. My head jerks back, the collective sound echoing off the walls like someone’s playing pinball. What was that about?
“Add’s. Sorry, I mean Mikayla. Please come stay with us. You’re not in our way and you’re not a nuisance. You never have been. I’m not above begging, if that’s what it takes. I’ll get down on my knees, pleading with you until you say yes.” Max flutters his lashes, blinking rapidly and tilting his head down. His brown puppy-dog eyes are working—annoyingly.
“It’s either that, or I will throw you over my shoulder caveman style and bring you back anyway,” Zane growls in a husky tone and I forget how to swallow for amoment. This… this is new. Not unwelcome, but a territory I’m unsure how to traverse. It’s almost like grown-up Z is… flirting?
As I stare into his ocean eyes, his position shifts and I become acutely aware of how close he’s actually gotten. His hands rest on the arms of the chair, as he leans over top of me, causing me to have to tilt my head back to see him. With his massive height, he towers over the chair and I have the perfect view to take him in.
His cologne wraps around me, a mix of the earth after rain and musk that’s all man. Carving itself into my brain so I’ll never forget. His hair is a little bit longer now, perfectly styled in a way that is meant to look effortless, but I’m betting it takes him twenty minutes of staring at himself in the mirror. It’s quaffed to the side and looks stunningly soft. Which makes me instantly want to know what it feels like to run my hands through it. The fabric of his shirt stretches over a pronounced set of abs as the veins in his arms strain under the pressure of his upper body weight.
He’s intimidating, but not in a fearful way. Quite the opposite. My body is vibrating from thoughts of him man-handling me. Roughly throwing me over his shoulder and bringing me along with him. It mirrors how we were as kids, and at least I can say that just like last time, the action would still make me wet.
