“I talked to my dad,” I add. “He agreed to let her stay at the farm. In the apartment above the barn.”
Kade’s eyebrows lift. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
The look they exchange says everything.
“You wouldn’t do that for just anyone,” Owen says, too casual for how concerned his expression is.
I turn on him. “Bullshit. You’d all be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes or if this were your girlfriend.”
Kade blinks. Talon tilts his head slightly, studying me in a way that makes my jaw clench.
“That’s not what we’re surprised by,” Talon says slowly. “We’re surprised you already see her that way.”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.
I don’t know how it happened in the span of less than a week.
Somewhere between the night at the bar and the alley, between the way she shook in my arms, then fell asleep next to me. Somewhere between the way she fought me in the hallway of Broken Saddle and in the campus parking lot, I’ve developed feelings for this girl.
I rake my hand through my hair. “I just don’t want her hurt.”
Kade lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s what we’re talking about. It’s not like you to make this your problem, especially when you barely know the girl.”
The room falls quiet again. I want to tell them to fuck off. I’ve never stuck my nose in their relationships. Maybe I’ve given them shit, but I’ve never put them through the third degree.
Talon turns on the TV and switches to ESPN to the game highlights. Owen’s phone vibrates, and he pulls it out to check who it is. Kade’s eyes meet mine again, and he claps me on the shoulder as he passes by me.
I head upstairs and shut my door, the noise from the house fading into the background.
Usually, I welcome the chaos because it keeps my head busy enough not to linger anywhere too long.
Tonight, I need something to shut my brain off.
I fire up my Xbox and log in, letting the startup menu glow to life. I settle in my chair, my headset resting around my neck, adjusting the controller in my hands.
The lobby loads, and I queue it up without thinking. Muscle memory takes over.
Then a notification pops up with a new message. I click on it, and it’s fromCerealKilla. So much has happened in the past few days that I had forgotten I messaged her to check in.
I open it.
CerealKilla: I’m alive. You get bored carrying everyone without my help?
My chest loosens, and I type back without thinking.
It’s hard to carry when the squad disappears on me.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
CerealKilla: Don’t tell me you’re struggling without me.
A smirk tugs at my mouth.
Maybe.
I hover over her profile. She’s showing offline, but I can see the three dots appear again as she’s typing.
