Page 48 of Sling’s Awakening

Right?

To my horror, Sling holds an arm out and slowly wags his finger in my direction, signaling me to come there.

I shake my head.

Is he crazy? I’m not going over there when he looks like he wants to kill me and his brother.

Sling tips his head back, looking up at the sky as his hands move to his waist. I can’t breathe as I watch him, the tendon in his neck bulging out from his anger. After what feels like an hour waiting to see what he does, Sling rights his head before cracking his neck. He shrugs to himself before he starts marching across the grass that separates my house from his, heading straight toward me.

Oh shit.

I can still hear his brother’s lawnmower mowing my front yard. He must not have noticed Sling silently losing his shit. Or he just doesn’t care.

It’s my turn to tip my head back as I throw the hand towel I used to dry my hands on the counter and stare at my ceiling as I let out a frustrated sigh.

I just can’t catch a fucking break.

My front door opens and slams shut before heavy footsteps are heading my way.

I squeeze my eyes closed, kicking myself for not locking it.

“What the fuck, Blake?” Sling growls as he storms into my kitchen.

My gaze drifts to his feet before slowly moving up his body. “Why are you wearing your boots in my house?”

Sling looks at me like I’ve lost it. His face turning more and more red by the second.

“My boots?” he exclaims, his hands on his waist as he leans toward me. “I don’t give a fuck about my boots. You’re lucky I didn’t stick it up Mountain’s ass before coming in.”

Mountain.

I knew his name had something to do with a large thing.

“What is your problem?” I ask, playing dumb.

I know exactly what his problem is, but for some reason, rage baiting this man makes me feel better.

“You know damn well what my problem is,” he growls, his jaw clenched. “I gave you space this week so you could wrap your head around the idea of me and you, and this is what you do? That’s my fucking lawn.”

My head tilts to the side. “Really? Because last time I checked, it was my name on the mortgage and my bank account paying the bills for this place.”

“Watch it, toots.” Sling seethes. “You’re walking on thin ice right now.”

Well, baby, I’m about to crack it wide open.

“Hmm…” I hum as I gently tap my finger against my lips as I pretend to think over what he just said. “I’m not walking on shit. This is my house. My lawn. And my goddamn life.” I jab my finger at myself.

The tendon in Sling’s neck is throbbing in anger as his fists clench and unclench at his sides. “Say it’s yours one more time.”

My brows raise as I bluster at his tone. I don’t know who he thinks he is coming into my house and talking to me like this.

I lean into him with my hands on my hips. “It’s mine.” I say it slow enough, hoping it penetrates through his thick fucking head.

Something I can’t quite place flashes through Sling’s eyes before he advances toward me and in one swift movement has me thrown over his shoulder with my ass in the air.

A squeak leaves my lips as he stomps over to the dining room table and pulls out a chair before plopping down in it as he maneuvers me from his shoulder to over his knee. Before my mind can process what is happening, Sling’s large palm lands on my ass, hard.

I gasp. “What the⁠—”