He smiles up at me, placing a kiss at the edge of my jaw. “I know. If you had run, you wouldn’t be at the one place we could find you. Wilson, I can see it in your eyes that you think this changes things.”
“It does!” I try to slide from under Oliver but he just twists around to straddle my lap, rolling his hips once before settling. My eyes roll into the back of my head before I grip his hips to keep him still.
“It changesnothing. We told you when we first met you that it didn’t matter, remember? Wilson, you don’t get to decide for us. You don’t get to decide who we’re allowed to want or who we’re allowed to love.” Those deep blues meet mine as he reaches up to cup my face. “Wilson, you don’t get to choose whether or not this would ruin us or break us if you stayed because I’ll tell you this. If you left? That would break us. That would breakme.”
I wasn’t planning on leaving but every word out of Oliver’s mouth hurts so much more now that it’s been voiced. “The article—”
“I read it. Lorenzo read it. Nicholas’ attorney is already tearing it apart.” Oliver’s hand slides into mine at the edge of the mattress, his fingers weaving through mine. “Your name in a publication doesn’t scare us. What scares me is waking up to find your side of the bed cold.”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. “If I stay, the article follows me through that door. Every case Nicholas built, every filing, every dollar—”
“All of it belongs to us, not you alone. You don’t have to carry those numbers by yourself.” He squeezes my hand. “Come home.”
I press my free hand to my eyes and finally let the pressure behind them shatter. Oliver stays right there, silently kissing me as I fall apart against him.Come home.I hadn’t even noticed I had been treating the club as my home. It had been weeks since I could remember sleeping without someone in the next bedroom or in my bed.
When I’ve settled, Oliver crawls off my lap and pushes to his feet. He takes another look around the apartment before pulling me toward the door. “Get rid of this place. It stopped being your home weeks ago and you know it. I’m giving the key to Lorenzo.” Oliver frowns as he looks around again before putting his hand out. It takes me an embarrassingly long few seconds to realize he’s asking for the key. “He’ll handle ending the lease. Then you’ll come upstairs, eat breakfast, and let Nicholas try to make you coffee. He can’t operate our espresso machine to save his life, but you’ll let him try.”
My mind is still a whirlwind of thoughts by the time we make it up to the apartment, Nicholas dragging me into his arms before pointing at the kitchen table. “Welcome home,” he says. “Your lease termination paperwork is on the desk.”
I snort, too tired to ask why they had everything ready but it feels nice that their first reaction was to show how much they cared. Lorenzo calls me to come for breakfast after washing up but I don’t even make it that far before collapsing onto the mattress in the guest bedroom.
It smells like Nicholas.MyAlpha. And that’s all it takes to pull me under.
24
Wilson
In and out of sleep all day, I finally find myself drifting off just after nine pm, Lorenzo forcing me to take the night off. I only complied because it felt like I had been run over by a truck, but now I wish I had gotten up.
Something flashes behind my eyes as I struggle to wake up. There’s no images, no faces, only sensation. A crushing weight pins my chest, heavy enough to collapse my lungs. Cold metal coats the back of my throat, Sebastian’s signature scent, the smell of smoke coiling through whatever dark void my subconscious has built around me. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. The pressure is everywhere, pressing me flat, and somewhere in the darkness a voice whispers my name in a tone that makes my body lock up with the instinct to obey.
“Wilson.”
The voice is wrong. Too warm. Too close.
“Wilson, open your eyes.”
It’s Lorenzo. The weight on my chest shifts, the cold metal melts away, and my eyes jerk open to the guest room ceiling, my fingers dug into the bedding.
Nicholas’ arms wrap around me from the back, his cheek pressed into my hair. He grips my forearms where I’m clawing at the bedding, steadying me without trapping me. His breath comes slow against the base of my skull, each inhale pressing his chest into my spine.
Lorenzo kneels in front of me on the bed. His hands cup my face, thumbs resting on my cheekbones, his gaze locked on mine with that intense focus he reserves for moments when I have nowhere to look but at him.
“You’re here,” he says softly, voice low enough to cut through the ringing in my head. “You’re in the guest room. Oliver’s gone out. Nicholas is holding you. I’m right here in front of you. Breathe.”
Air fights past the choke in my throat as my lungs fill against Nicholas’s chest.
“There.” I feel Lorenzo’s thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Stay with me.”
I unclench my hands from the sheets. Nicholas’ grip on my forearms loosens, his palms sliding down to my wrists, thumbs pressing against my pulse points.
“I’m here.” I rasp. “I’m here.”
Lorenzo’s mouth presses against my forehead, then his hands leave my face and move to the hem of my shirt. I lock eyes with him, answering his silent question.
“Yes.”
I lift the shirt over my head and let it fall. I arch my spine into Nicholas’s mouth as he finds the nape of my neck, lips pressing against the flesh below the scar. Lorenzo’s hands slide downmy chest, tracing my ribs, my stomach, and lingering at the waistband of my sweatpants.
