Chapter 21
Josephine
Kendrick’s driving. Kylian’s riding shotgun. And I’m sitting in the back of a spacious Suburban, begrudgingly appreciating the soft leather while trying to peer out the windows that are tinted so dark they have to be illegal.
I guess illegal window tint isn’t a big deal to the guy whose dad is the sheriff.
“Are you purposely taking the scenic route?” I snap.
It feels like we’ve been driving forever. Between this and the leisurely boat ride to the marina, we’ve eaten up an hour of our alleged two hours.
I’m not driving, so theoretically, I can’t take the heat if we’re late according to Decker’s arbitrary time limit. Although I’m sure he’d spin it and assign the blame to me anyway.
Kendrick’s eyes flit to the rearview mirror and meet mine.
“It’s Sunday morning in Lake Chapel, North Carolina. That mean anything to you, Ohio?”
I shrug, clueless.
“Jesus doesn’t care about your agenda on Sundays in the south. I’ve had to avoid seven churches, and we’ve been rerouted twice since your uncle’s junkyard isn’t exactly on the same side of the lake. I’m doing my best to get you where you need to go.”
Oh.
Shit.
So he has been taking the scenic route, but in an attempt to get us there faster.
Still.
I doubt Crusade will make religious exemptions for lateness.
As we pull into the gravel driveway and dust clouds my view, a thought occurs to me.
“What, exactly, am I supposed to tell my uncle about where I’ve been when he gets back?” I’ve resigned myself to my new living arrangement, but that doesn’t mean the way it came to be doesn’t still boil my blood.
I lock away my rage for later. It’ll keep. I just hope I have the opportunity to make use of it if and when the time comes to put Decker Crusade in his place.
Kylian twists around in his seat. “I can make arrangements to keep him away longer if needed.”
I blink once. Then again.
That’s it?
After everything that went down between us yesterday—the game and boat rides, his offer and the storm—I expected more. Our connection amplified in the last twenty-four hours. At least it did for me.
Fisting my hands and glaring at the back of his head, I try to make it make sense. “What’s that supposed to mean, Kylian?”
The accusation hits as intended, and he spins in his seat to face me.
“I wouldn’t hurt him,” he insists, his eyes softening a touch. I think. I swear I can’t get a read on this guy to save my life.
“I know enough about his business dealings to keep him occupied for a few weeks. Maybe even a month,” he adds. “That would buy you time to figure out what—”
He stops short when the car jolts to a halt.
“Jesus!” Kendrick shouts.
Kylian turns to his friend. “He’s really messing with your vibe this morning, huh?”
Kendrick cranes forward, peering over the hood of the SUV. “What the hell was that? A radioactive junkyard rat? It was huge!”
Scout.
“Did you hit her?” I cry, craning my neck and searching. Except I can’t see shit out of these ridiculously dark windows.
“Her? No, I didn’t hit her.” I swear Kendrick shudders before turning to me. “Get out and get your shit, Ohio. I’m not risking another run-in with that oversized rodent.”
Turning around again, he throws the SUV into park and scowls at me through the mirror. I ignore him, unbuckling and hustling out of the back seat. I don’t have a minute to waste, considering it took us exactly one hour to get here.
By that logic, I have zero minutes to collect my things.
“Want help?”
Kylian is already closing the passenger door carefully and squinting behind his square frames.
He looks hilariously out of place. Hills of discarded car parts and scrap metal create a bizarre backdrop for this conversation.
I’d love nothing more than to call Kylian out on his bullshit. He’s practically ignored me all morning, erasing almost all the trust and connection I thought was growing between us.
But I don’t have time to figure him out right now. And I really could use his help.
“Let’s go.” I head toward the back door, scanning the lot to confirm that Jeannie’s car isn’t here. Thankfully, the few spaces in front of the building by the office door are vacant.
Dust kicks up as I hurry inside. Once the door is shut behind us, I stride through the living area. My room looks impossibly small. Forgettable. Was it really just three nights ago when I was trying to sleep and was unceremoniously snatched from this place?
Planting my hands on my hips, I sigh.
“What can I do for you?”
Tell me why you’re acting so different this morning.
Distract Kendrick so I can make a run for it.
Make it make sense.
I don’t say any of that, though.
“There are two plastic totes under the bed. Pull those out and start filling them.”
“What do you want to take?” Kylian asks, squatting to pull out the storage containers I unpacked less than a month ago.
“All of it.”
He snaps his head up and gives me a questioning look, brows furrowed and a slight frown marring his face.
But I hold his eyes, then shrug. “I’ve only been here for a few weeks. Everything I own fits in those totes.”
Defeated, I pick up my shower caddy and head to the bathroom to collect my makeup and toiletries. A hand on my elbow stops me.
“Hey.”
I freeze and pull in a slow breath, then turn to face the guy who’s been so damn hot and cold with me over the last twenty-four hours.
“What?” I snap.
“Something’s wrong,” Kylian surmises, his hand lingering on my arm, cupping my elbow and caressing the skin on the underside.
“Ya think?” I move to pull away from his hold. But he grips my elbow tighter.
“Jo.”
My ire builds at the way he says it. At the nickname he’s created for me.
He’s not solely responsible for this situation, but he’s here.
And he’s been frustratingly cool toward me today.
As if he didn’t help me through a near-panic attack last night.
And like I didn’t wake up practically straddling him this morning.
“I need you to spell it out for me. What’s bothering you?” Kylian presses.
My instinct is to snap again, to hit him with the sass, because there’s obviously a myriad of reasons for my irritation. Because none of this is okay. It would be easier to answer what isn’t wrong. Frustration rages inside me, growing until it’s almost as consuming as my anger.
But his gaze—so even and searching—promises that he really does care. And maybe he really does need me to spell it out for him.
Boys.
So hot. So dumb.
“This is all a lot.” I drop my chin and study the empty plastic bin he’s holding, starting with the obvious. “I’m overwhelmed, honestly. Then there’s you. It’s like we’ve gone… backward, since yesterday, somehow.”
“Backward?”
He really is going to make me spell it out.
“Yes, Kylian. Backward. You and me? I thought we were… I don’t know.
We connected yesterday. At least I thought so.
And last night. And this morning…” I trail off, refusing to dwell on the memory of the comfort and safety I felt when I woke up in his arms. “It’s stupid.
I just thought I had a friend in all this. ”
His brows draw together, and his eyes swim with confusion—the first real reaction he’s given me—but he holds my gaze. Is he being purposefully obtuse? Is he making fun of me? Or maybe playing some sort of mind game to fuck with me more than the four of them already have?
When he remains quiet, I can’t help but ramble on. “You practically ignored me at breakfast, Kylian. You were silent on the drive here. I guess I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so hot and cold, especially in front of—”
My words are cut off by the sound of the bin he was holding clattering to the floor. Then he’s stepping forward and crowding my space. He grips my chin with his thumb and two fingers, tilting my head to meet his gaze.
“Hot or cold?” he murmurs. “Those are the options?”
I swallow my anger and inhale sharply as he lowers his lips until they’re a breath away from brushing mine.
“I don’t do in between well, Jo. And I don’t always notice subtlety. So if you need me to pick when it comes to you…”
Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are practically ablaze. This close, the little gold flecks sprinkled in the blue irises look almost like paint splatters.
My heart rate picks up as he angles so close the heat of his breath tickles my lips. I try to swallow, but my mouth’s gone dry.
This is what’s been driving me insane. This palpable tension between us. There’s no way it’s one-sided; he has to feel this, too. It’s like I’m his sole focus when we’re alone—a single star pinpricking the midnight sky.
It’s when we’re with the other guys—burning in the glow of Decker’s impossible sun, fighting the gravitational pull of Locke and Kendrick—that I’m invisible.
“Hot.” He captures my mouth, pressing a searing kiss to my lips. Then he pulls back for one second, adding, “So fucking hot,” and claims my mouth again while his fingers caress up my arm and tangle in my hair.
He pulls me closer, wrapping me up in a tight embrace and lifting me off the floor.
I’m completely suspended as Kylian hauls me against the wall and presses his body against mine from knee to clavicle. He trails hot kisses along my jaw, sending shivers coursing through me, then licks a path up my neck.
“Fuck, baby. You taste just as good as you look.” His words are muffled as he continues to lick and nip the delicate skin along my neck.
“There’s no fucking question about how I feel about you, Jo.
Hot. Hot. Hot.” He peppers kisses all over as he makes his declaration, then sucks the delicate flesh of my neck into his mouth.
My hands find purchase against his stomach, fingertips trailing against the taut muscles beneath his T-shirt.
“But this morning—” I protest.
He pulls back then, peering at me through his glasses.
“Last night you came to me in a panic, did you not?”
My face flushes with the call-out, and I drop my gaze to avoid his scrutiny.