Her birthday was yesterday. She should be 24 and if she was here, we would’ve gone out to celebrate just like every year to spoil her with gifts, taking her to the most lavish places. Doted on her like she's royalty.
Instead, we gathered in our Miami home, sitting around the dining table, with matching looks of despair and frustration.
“Do you ever…,” Zane whispers, his voice low and tone solemn. “Do you ever have the thought that it’s just… you know… time?”
“What do you mean?” I question.
“It’s just, I mean, it’s been so long. We’ve done everything we can think of to try and find her, used every resource—available to us or not. Maybe there comes a time when there’s just nothing we can do. A time where for the sake of ourselves, we have to move on.”
The room was quiet before, but now the silence is overbearing as we all just stare at each other. The tension is thick, no one wanting to be the first person to admit defeat, to give up on her. Could this be the end? Should it be?
“Fuck that!” Max screeches from the end of the table. “I’ll never give up on her. You can each do whatever the fuck you want, but I refuse to stop. I’m going to keep looking for her until either I take my last breath, or we find out she has. No matter how long it takes.”
“Max…” Zane’s shoulders slump.
“No! I know it feels like it’s been a damn eternity since we’ve held her, talked to her. We’ve all had to learn to become men we never thought we would need to know. But I refuse to believe we’ve been doing this in vain. Quietly giving up in the middle of our kitchen just before the decade mark is not how this story ends. She’s out there, I can feel it.”
His hand moves to cover his chest, patting it. Z and Kade’s eyes have narrowed, watching and listening to our brother's determination. Their heads are nodding, his motivational speech doing its job to pull us all back on track. This is Max in all his glory. The one that can pull us all back from the edge, and rally the troops. He’s always had this uncanny ability to act like a magnet for our group, and I admire him so much for it.
“So, we don’t stop. We tear this world apart until she’s once again in our arms,”
My mind returns to the present, but the feelings from that day still linger. If we had given in to those thoughts, if Max hadn’t pulled us out and rallied around us, would we still have found her now? Would we get the chance to do what we failed to do the first time? I won’t let it happen again. From now until death welcomes me at his door, I’ll be her biggest protector, as she is my most valued treasure.
The rough thoughts of the past exit my mind when I hear Mik curse from inside the room. The “fuck” only loud enough for me to hear due to the openwindow, but still distorted. She said she wanted to have a shower, did she fall? Is she okay?
Shit.
“Bear?” I call through the door. “You good?”
When no answer can be heard, my knuckles rap against the wood in a low knock. I don’t want to just burst in guns blazing and scare the shit out of her, but a worry has formed in my gut. Another minute passes, more silence and I can’t take it anymore.
Slowly, I twist the handle and open the door, popping my head in just enough to take a glance around and make sure she’s okay. The room is empty, bed unmade, suitcase still plopped open on the mattress. The sound of water has my head turning to the bathroom door and the worry tries to contort into a full blown anxiety attack. Shit, if she’s hurt in there, I don’t know how she’ll take me seeing her like that.
My feet move without thought, heading for the bathroom, the front door left ajar behind me. “Bear, are you okay in there?” I try calling a little louder than before to make up for the wood between us and the sound of sloshing water. Still, she remains silent. There’s no “I’m good, Ry” or “be out in a minute.”
I’m not sure what to do in a situation like this. Do I… do I let myself in? Do I retreat to the sidewalk and just wait? My mind turns over the possibilities, and the moment I decide to go get the others and ask their opinion, another sound comes through the door.
It’s low, guttural, and is one that has nothing to do with injuring yourself in a bathroom mishap. I should leave. I should be walking right back out of the room and leaving her to her own. I should do a lot of things, none of them involve my ear being pressed against the door, desperate to hear more.
The sound of Mik’s pleasure has electrified every nerve in my body as my cock jumps painfully to attention. The dydoe I got at twenty-one catches on the seam of my jeans, causing me to groan in a mixture of pleasure and pain as I move to adjust it. I need to retreat, before I bust a load in my pants.
Before I’m able to escape, my soul is sucked straight out of my chest. Leaving as if I’d sold it when she calls our names from her lips, followed by the hushed shriek of a bursting orgasm.
My hands move, opening my jeans and stroking my shaft vigorously as my own climax builds quickly. My legs struggle, knees going weak, as I fall back using the dresser to catch myself. I bite my lip so hard I swear I taste blood while trying not to scream. The rush of my orgasm hits with so much power, I shoot ropes of cum onto the carpeted floor.
Shit, now what do I do?
The sound of the water draining snaps me into gear as panic takes over and I choke on air. My head twists, looking for anything I can use to clean this all up before she comes out here, my eyes landing on a pair of her shorts half-hanging out of the drawer.
I lunge, grabbing them and quickly wiping myself down as well as the floor before shoving the offending evidence between the dresser and the wall. Speed-walking back to the door, I tuck my dick back into my pants, and rush out into the blazing Miami sun as if I didn’t just act like a pre-pubescent teenager. As quietly as one can move, I close the door to her suite, and run to the ice machine. I need to dump some over my head to cool the fuck off, and at least use some to de-stickify my palms.
I manage to make it back to her door just in time for it to open again, my angel standing before me with a wide grin.Damn,her poker face is a lot better than mine. I’m sure I have the complexion of a strawberry right now as I fake my composure. Meanwhile, she glows with an effortless radiance.
Chapter Fifteen
Mikayla
“I promise I won’t run for it. You don’t need to stand guard, Ry,” I chuckle, as I close and lock the door.
