Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“Thank you for—”
“Hey. Save that for later.” He smirked. “There will come a day when I’ll need you to save my ass. Probably very soon.”
I chuckled. “I’ve got you.”
Okay. Time to lose spectacularly.
Seventeen
“Kit, what’re you—”
I spun around with my heart in my throat and covered Abel’s mouth with my hand for the second time today.
“Be quiet,” I breathed.
I was eavesdropping.
I gave Abel a look and pointed upward to the second floor, where Lucas and Colt were currently arguing.
We were supposed to be enjoying our food comas after an amazing barbecue, brought to us by Colt and River, but Lucas had requested “a word” with Colt right after we were done. And I’d had a feeling it would be about me, because Lucas had looked troubled ever since the ball game in the pool.
Abel nodded in understanding, and I turned toward the stairs again but made sure to stay close to the front door in case I had to escape fast.
“Of course I trust you,” I heard Lucas say tiredly. “I’m just worried about him. You saw the way he flinched when you came at him in the pool. Imagine how it’ll be when you’re surrounded by rocks and trees in complete darkness.”
“That’s the fear I want him to get past,” Colt replied. “He ain’t weak. He’s just held back by fears. It’ll take practice, but—”
“And he’ll get hurt.”
“That’s life, darlin’,” Colt groaned. “And you know what? Being too scared to take on challenges will hurt him a whole lot more than some cuts and scrapes ever will.”
I chewed on my lip, appreciating them both. But as scared as I actually was—and I knew it—I sided with Colt. I’d lived a sheltered life, and I needed to break free from the chains I’d shackled myself with.
Tomorrow night was going to hurt. I was prepared for it.
Lucas sighed. “I’m being the fretting mother, aren’t I?”
Colt chuckled quietly. “You make a hot fretter, though. Come here.” There was a beat of silence. “I love you. I love that you worry. You know I can take it too far, too fast sometimes—that’s where you come in. But I think he needs this. I think we all do. He’s still clingin’ to that last shred of composure, and I wanna show him that not only will I take it from him, but I’ll be there when he’s at his worst. He’ll be his own sadistic degrader when I beat him tomorrow, and it’s our job to nip that shit in the bud. We’ll make him focus on his accomplishments and not however far away he might be from a goal.”
Abel reached for my hand and squeezed it, and I squeezed back, overwhelmed by the love I had for my Daddies.
“You’re right,” Lucas murmured. “He’s going to be vulnerable when he comes off the adrenaline. I should make plans for aftercare. We’ll all need it.”
“Definitely,” Colt agreed. “Madigan’s got plans for Abel, so we’ll have some privacy here.”
“Okay, good. I’ll keep worrying.”
Colt let out a soft laugh. “He’s our boy. We’ll be worryin’ for the rest of our lives.”
Emotions surged forward, and I had to blink back tears. For the rest of our lives. Jesus Christ, I had no words. Abel gave me a quick hug, and I could only grin and wipe my cheeks. I was really their boy, and I had fallen so hard for them. This had happened to me. Me.
“I told you,” Abel whispered.
I laughed silently and sniffled, then nodded toward the door. It was time to sneak out before I got caught eavesdropping. Again.
We couldn’t very well return to the patio right away, because it would be too obvious. Madigan, River, and Reese were sitting there chatting, listening to music, and drinking beer, and they would let Colt and Lucas know in a heartbeat that Abel and I had just come back too. So, I ushered Abel behind the A-frame cabins with an idea.
Abel squinted in the darkness. “Not that I don’t enjoy standing in the underbrush when it’s dark and snakes are coming out to hunt, but what’re we doing back here?”
“Stalling a bit,” I replied. “And also, can you teach me some fighting things? Like, some moves? Some techniques?”
Abel was a force to be reckoned with when he played hockey. He had one of those positions where they scored a lot, and he was fast, which meant—as he’d explained to me—that he had players who kept the ice clear for him. From fights. But…he didn’t shy away from trash talk and getting physical. Hockey players were hotheaded by default, and you couldn’t be some scaredy-cat in the rink.
“I wouldn’t say I fight very well,” Abel said. “I mean, I just throw my weight around. It’s one thing to get into a fight during a game, but if you’re studying fighting techniques, you’re kind of focusing on the wrong thing and might wanna consider a different sport.”