His fingers knot into my sweatshirt, and he pulls me onto his lap to face him. I’m enraptured by his retelling. During the middle of the story, my arms wind around his neck, analyzing every motion of his face.
The words part his lips like a confession. But…none of it changes my opinion of him at all. In fact, it just goes to show how far my husband is willing to go to get what he wants.
It seems as if he’s built this up in his brain as something much more gruesome than it is.
When the tale is finished, he sits back and sighs. “So that’s it.”
“You know it wasn’tyouwho killed the old woman, right?”
“It could have been. It was?—”
I shake my head and stroke back some of his hair. “No, stallion. I heard about her from Landon and Aiden. That wasGimpma. An evil woman they purposefully kept down there as punishment. She’d been there since my parents went to school at NU. She choked to death on her breakfast around that time. I know because the guys were making crass jokes about thesausagethe chef made.”
He stares off as if this is a new possibility for him. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.Chlamydiacouldn’t really kill someone like that. Not that fast anyway.”
There’s a hint of a sparkle in his eyes. Like I just told him a secret he needed to hear for a very long time.
“How do you feel about telling me?” I ask.
“Honestly?Fuckingrelieved. Holyshit. I’ve been carrying that guilt around for too long.” His breath comes out ragged and steady. “How do you feel hearing it?”
I give his chest a big squeeze and listen to his heart beat hard against his ribs. He pulls me tighter to him.
Maybe I feel like giving him a complex. Or maybe I could get something out of it if I play it up.
Whatever my reason, I tell him, “I’m now a little concerned. Just a bit.”
He pulls me back by the ponytail, and we study one another. His expression serious. “What’s your concern?”
I swallow audibly. Playing it up for the dramatics. Even give him puppy eyes.
“Does Valen give a better hand job than me?”
His face breaks as he laughs. Instead of answering, he pins me to the sofa and tickles my ribs until I beg for mercy. “I don’t know. Guess you’ll have to try tonight, and then I’ll give you a grade.”
forty-nine
I feel relieved.Like I’d been carrying a weight I didn’t know I had on my shoulders until Scout accepted me. For me. For the worst part of my past that I’d held on to for so long.
The only thing weighing on me now? Grayson Noel Umbrage. Fucker is still out there and needs to be buried six feet deep.
The day after our Marauder’s hangout, Scout scowls with frustration. The paper target in front of her is filled with holes. In the wrong places. But she’s doing good.
“You nailed it.” My lips brush her temple, scratching her skin with my overgrown stubble. “So fucking proud of you, baby.”
Maybe I should shave. But I’m feeling like a desperate man recently. One that needs to paint his face with camouflage and wait for Gray in the shadows.
I push the button to bring her target toward us at the indoor shooting range I like to use when the weather is shit.
“I hit his arms and groin.” She scoffs, shoving a hand toward it. “Those could be good spots, I suppose. But isn’t the point to aim for the chest? That’s what you said.”
“Anywhere you can get him down? That’s a good start. We’ll set up a new target, and I’ll help you with the aim.”
She shakes her head. “I think my eyes are just crooked.”
With a smirk, prop a finger under her chin so she has to face me. Just as I think of telling her how amazing she is at this, I get the urge to gather her lips with mine and forget what I was going to say. “Fuck. You’re so gorgeous.” I scan her face behind her safety goggles. “And not one crooked eye.”
