Zane and Max take me on the world tour. Showing—as well as bragging—about everything the house has within its walls. And it does have just that…everything.
An over-sized gym, garage with multiple expensive and high-end vehicles, computer rooms, and bedrooms each with their own baths. There’s a library, a pool in the back, and a theater room. The kitchen is massive, the living room extravagant, hell, I’m pretty sure the half bathroom is bigger than my motel room was.
This is not me. I’m a drifter, an assassin. I take odd jobs and never put down roots. So when I have to bail, there’s nothing to miss. Even when I told myself I was done running, somewhere in the far recesses of my head, that little voice laughed at me. Believing I never would. Colt is still out there, his men searching and following. And until I either take a dirt nap, or he does, I’ll have to keep running.
As they take me through their home, I’m constantly reminded of that fact. My inner bitch repeating:I don’t belong here,like it’s her new fucking mantra.
“… And here are the bedrooms,” Zane continues, never missing a breath. His arms open wide like this is the best part of the whole place. “Here’s mine, over there is Ry’s. Kade is the door in the corner, and Max to his right.
“And this one’s yours!” Max gleams at me before pushing open the only other door on this floor.
The room is stunning, much like everything I’ve seen so far. A four-post bed sits against the far wall, directly in the middle like a showpiece. A set of glass double doors, covered in sheer black curtains, lets the setting sunlight into the room. The patio just beyond, already stocked with tables and chairs dripping with pillows of varying sizes. To the left of the bed is another set of double doors, with an ample walk in closet hidden just behind them.
There’s a fucking couch in my closet.
The room is rounded out with a four piece ensuite, a rainfall shower and large, jetted soaker tub sitting opposite each other like a staring match. The entire room's color scheme has been done in deep burgundy and black tones, which is kind of moody for guests. But hey, to each their own.
“Little dark for a guest room,” I chuckle, placing my suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed.
“It’s not for guests,” rumbles from behind me. Turning, I find Kade and Ryder have joined us. All four of them are now leaning against the wall or doorframe, staring at me. It’s intense to say the least, as they look at me like I’m missing the punchline of a joke. There must be something in my expression that betrays my confusion, as Zane pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over.
Grabbing my hands, his thumb rubbing small circles against my palms, he inhales a deep breath like he’s about to confess some deep dark secret.
“Max wasn’t exaggerating when he said this isyours, Bear. This room has always been for you. Will always be for you,” he confesses as he plants a kiss on the top of my head and I swear, he inhales deeply once again.
Did he just sniff my hair?
“Get comfortable and get some sleep. I’ll come get ya when it’s time for dinner,” Ryder urges from the door, taking off immediately after.
Zane tips his head, leaning closer into me as he brings my hands to his face and kisses my knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re home, Bear.”
As he exits the door, passing Max and Kade, he takes one more lingering look over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall. Max, still grinning from ear to ear, nods briskly, blowing a kiss my way before taking off himself. I laugh, the sound foreign to my ears. It’s been so long since I’ve felt genuine happiness.
I turn to my luggage, intending to grab a pair of sleep shorts to change into, but Kade still lingers at my door. His fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt, his teeth biting at his lip like he wants to say something.
“Kade?” I prompt, hoping whatever is bothering him he’ll elaborate on.
Instead of telling me however, he twists on his heel and leaves. Closing the door behind him with finality. The motion has my own internal pain rising with vengeance. Bubbling up like a volcano ready to spew. I already knew leaving them was going to hurt like hell, but after watching them today, hearing their words… And now knowing that something is bothering Kade enough that he’s timid around me.
Why does doing the right things always have to hurt so fucking much?
Wandering around the room, I start to notice details that have my eyes watering. The intricately carved wooden koalas on the desk, my favorite shampoo in the shower. Even the god-awful pink fluffy bunny slippers my mom got me on a trip to Idaho one year. They never gave up on me, after all of these years, they still surround themselves with pieces of me.
I know Kade mentioned it before, but seeing it in a physical form solidifies it in my chest. To know that all those years they were still searching for me, hoping I would return. Putting all this effort in so I had somewhere comfortable to return to, no matter when that was. It makes me feel like a bigger asshole for needing to run, from them—from this.
The room is everything I would’ve chosen for myself had I gotten the chance. The dark colors and fuzzy carpets. The grunge-style abstract art covering the walls, and the copious amount of blankets in every inch of free space. I may not get cold as often as I did before, but them remembering every detail, every like and dislike I had… it makes one thing very clear. I willnotbe the reason they get hurt.
It was around an hour later that Ry showed back up at my door to wake me. Though, I never actually fell asleep. I’ve been too distracted, my mind doing backflips over the care and loyalty they’ve shown me. Four men who saw me go through the awkward stages of puberty and still said “yup, we claim this one.”
After freshening up in the bathroom, I head for the stairs. The bedrooms are all on the second level and the chatter coming from the kitchen can be heard clear as day. I tiptoe down the stairs, pausing on the bottom step to listen when my name is mentioned.
“She’s definitely different,” says Max, his voice oozing with awe and wonder.
“She only has one suitcase worth of stuff. It’s been so many years, how is that even possible?” This comes from Ryder, still hung up on my personal belongings—or lack thereof.
“I wish she’d tell us what happened all those years ago, and where she’s been. Is it really so hard to believe that we want to protect her? Help her?” Zane asks, causing a frown to take hold of my face.
I know that’s what they want, but they’ll never understand. It’s not possible to protect me, not from those chasing me. They’ll only get themselves hurt in the process, and I wouldn’t survive watching that. I couldn’t live with the guilt.
