Page 108 of Last Man Standing

“Choosing me.” Her breath comes out on a shuddering exhale. “Sacrificing everything else.”

“Yes.” I lay my forehead against her temple and close my eyes. “I’ve never doubted my decision. Not once in three decades. Now come on. Let’s give them a little privacy.” I take her hand and turn toward the house, only to stop again at Mav and Koda’s perfect grins.

Have they been here for long?

“If it means anything, I think she’s pretty cool.” Mav comes around and takes his mother from my arms. Like I don’t fucking matter. Which is the bitch of this thing in a way. Arabella resists sharing her son with another woman. Meanwhile, I’ve shared her with my sons since the day they were born. “I like what she does for him.”

“What does she do for him?” Sniffling, Arabella wipes her nose with a fast swipe of her hand. “Cause stress?”

“She makes him smile a lot, huh?” Koda fakes a dramatic shiver, wrapping his arms around himself and giggling at Arabella’s pursed lips. “It’s creepin’ me out a little bit.”

I scoop him up and clap my hand over his squealing mouth to trap the sound inside. Then I head toward the glass doors. “Don’t tell your brother his smile is creepy, silly boy!”

“But it is!” he cackles, the words muffled under my hand. “It’s weird. But she’s really good at Mario Cart!”

“I’m never settling,” Mav announces, curling Arabella’s arm around his and leading her into the house. “Not till I find me a broad who can win the Grand Prix on Super Mario.”

34

SEBASTION

TARGET PRACTICE

Ido as I’ve done every other morning since bringing Scarlett to my home; I lie awake and watch her crawl out of my bed. I pretend to be asleep and smile as she stumbles into a pair of jeans in the shadows. When she drags an oversized hoodie over her head, I cross my fingers and hope she’ll select one of mine.

I especially like it when she wears my hoodies.

And then I settle in for an hour knowing she’s safe and accounted for, slurping coffee in the kitchen with my dad. While she’s gone, I starfish my bed and take comfort in not having to pin down a woman who suffers a nasty case of restless leg syndrome.

I’ve never been so fuckin’ tired in my life. Never had such disturbed sleep, ever.

I’ve never lain awake and watched a woman sleep the way I watch her.

But none of it means a damn when I sink deep into her tight body and lose myself in a way I’ve never done with anyone else.

It could be fate. It could be a stirring of feelings I’m not entirely ready for. Or, likely, it’s a matter of I’m fucked. Proven when, instead of heading out the door and into the hall like she does every other morning, Scarlett searches my room. She opens and closes drawers in the dark and mutters to herself about guns. And I…

Fuckkkkkk me. I don’t get up and do something about it.

“If you were a Glock 20,” she whispers to herself. “And you were hidden in the bedroom of a man they call Tank, where would you be hiding?”

Dread swallows me up and damn near spits me out. Fear gnaws at my stomach, because why the fuck does she want my gun?

“Shit!” She slams her toe against the leg of a chair in the sitting area. “Dammit! Ouch!”

What are you doing, Princess?

Why are you searching my room?

And why the fuck don’t I sit up and call her out for sneaking?

A phone buzzes near me. In the morning darkness, the buzz sounds like a fuckin’ cannon, and because it does, Scarlett gasps and sprints back to the bed, sweeping the device up before it wakes me, then silencing the buzz until there’s no sound left but for the rapid racing of her breath. She stands at the side of the bed, staring at me while I use the shadows for cover.

Audibly gulping, she releases a pained whimper, swipes a thumb across her phone screen, then brings the device to her ear and turns away. “Hey, Linc.” She whispers her words, criminally low, and tiptoes around to my side of the bed. “I’m almost ready to go.”

Go where, Scarlett?

“Yeah, I’m looking for his Glock, but I can’t find it. And I can’t turn the lights on without waking him up.”