The universe has seen fit that I would.
Every abominable cell inside my goddamn body feels like it’s programmed to care. I try to force the rage down, but swallowing past it feels like barbwire.
Before I know it, I find myself saying, “Keep ears on him.”
Cal waggles his brows. Kane smiles like a fuckwad. The only thing they love more than giving me shit is listening to me admit I might actually need them.
“Quiet fucking ears.”
“Wasn’t planning on making a scene, bro,” Cal says, and Kane is still grinning. “But I’ll keep my ears open.”
Scenes draw attention, and attention from men like Holland gets certain women killed. And sadly, because of how attuned I am to Kylie Moon, I know she’s a certain kind of woman—one that attracts the men Holland works for like bees to honey.
I risk another glance at Kylie, and the bond—thethingI refuse to name—thrums under my skin like a live wire. Every instinct in me screams to get closer, to put myself between her and the rest of the world, to drag her somewhere safe from assholes like Holland and never let go.
I clench my fists.
You know this is exactly how it starts. You’ve already seen it time and time again.
Calloway watches me carefully. “You know fighting it doesn’t make it go away.”
“No,” I say. “But it buys time.”
“And what exactly will time give you?” Kane asks. I don’t answer because I don’t know what time buys me.
Time to figure out what the endgame is?
Time to decide how deep this goes?
Time to make sure she doesn’t end up on a list she never agreed to be on?
I don’t fucking know. But that’s pretty on par for me these days, because I don’t know anything anymore.Besides the fact that I want Kylie Moon—and badly.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” I tell them instead.
“Okay, bro. Let’s just keep buying time, for the sake of, you know, time,” Kane teases.
“Hell yeah. Let’s get more…time.” Cal laughs and offers me a high five. I don’t accept, but he finishes the gesture himself, slapping one hand against the other.
I groan. “How about you two fuck right off.”
Both of my brothers have the nerve to laugh, but I ignore them.
Across the rink, Kylie finishes a lap and slows her pace as she pushes her warm brown hair off her face. For a split second, her eyes flick toward the benches.
They land on me.
Something I don’t know how to describe passes between us. It’s recognition without understanding, curiosity edged with unease.The uncontrollable pull, it seems, isn’t exclusive to me.
Taking pity on what must feel impossibly confusing for her, I look away first.
Kane claps me on the shoulder. “We’re heading to the Suburban. You coming?”
“In a minute.”
They don’t argue. They know better when I’m in a mood like this.
When they’re gone, I pull out my phone and open the note I’ve been adding to all week. It’s not dreams or visions like I’ve experienced before. It’s not as formal as that, but rather, fragments of something my instincts won’t let go of.
