While Dante is supposed to have his men begin repairs on the place tomorrow, who knows how long it may take to finish.
I stare at her, stunned into silence.
I did not think the invitation through, and Bristol will want to spend the night if she comes all the way to Evergreen for my game.
“What’s wrong?” Bristol asks, noticing my silence.
I don’t have the best poker face.
“Liam Moretti,” Bristol growls at me, growing impatient.
“Fine, you can’t stay over here tomorrow.”
“Why not?” She’s waiting for me to tell her, but there isn’t a good reason that isn’t the truth. I actually don’t think she’d even believe the truth if I did tell it to her. “Liam? Why can’t I stay over? Are you having a party there after the game? I swear if you bring another girl in your bedroom and shack up, I’ll murder you!”
There’s the Bristol I’m accustomed to.
“Get in line, firebreather. There was a murder here tonight, and someone has to clean up all the blood tomorrow. You know, mafia problems.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “You’re a tad dramatic. Is this because I said your dad is mafia in that ridiculous game we played? You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
I’m rather relieved she doesn’t believe me, but she can’t say that I ever lied to her. Not that she should ever find out the truth. “The ridiculous game was your idea.”
“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll just stay at one of your friend’s houses who play hockey. Are any of them single?”
I want to wipe that smirk right off her face.
“The only hockey player’s bed you’re keeping warm is mine,” I growl.
She puckers her lips together, staring at me. “I like it when you’re possessive.” The smile edged at the corner of her lips. “That’s hot.” Her cheeks redden and I can’t help but wonder if she’s turned on right now.
That was not my intention. It’s not necessarily bad; I like that I can make her pussy flutter with just words whispered to her. “My threats aren’t meant to be hot. They’re a warning.”
She smiles and blows me a kiss. “Goodnight, Liam. I’ll see you tomorrow at your game.”
Grumbling under my breath, I relax against my pillow. “Sweet dreams, Firebreather.”
Five
Harper
Zeke is situated between Luca and me on the mattress. With every intense clap of thunder, my son startles awake, making it impossible for me to sleep. Not that I even want to close my eyes. The moment I do, I keep seeing images flood my mind of him, the man who snatched my little boy from bed.
His cries are shrieks of terror, and I rub his back, trying to lull him back into a peaceful slumber.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, giving him hugs and kisses, reminding myself that he’s safe.
My back is either to the window or the door.
I don’t feel safe.
Luca stirs, and his eyelids flutter open. I wouldn’t expect him to be able to sleep through the sheer terror in Zeke’s cries.
“Mama, bad men come.” Zeke’s sobbing, and I pull him from the bed, holding him against my chest, rocking him.
“It was just a bad dream,” I whisper, kissing his sweaty forehead, trying to reassure him that he’s safe, that I’m here to protect him.
Luca sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His voice is rough with slumber. “Where are you going?”
