Chapter 40
Josephine
“Isn’t modal a type of fabric?” I groan, lifting my Logic textbook off my lap and dropping it onto the ottoman in front of the love seat where I’m sprawled with my back against one armrest and my legs in Locke’s lap.
Hunter peers up from where she’s sitting cross-legged on a lounger. Squinting, she taps her pen against her temple. “You’re totally right. It’s a good one, too. I have a modal blouse that’s as soft as silk.”
“It’s also an order of logic, Hot Girl. And it’s most definitely going to be on the midterm,” Locke replies, running one hand up and down my shins.
We’ve been out on my balcony for nearly two hours, working through the study guide for next week’s exam. Hunter is freaking out and on her third iced matcha of the afternoon. I need a decent grade on this exam to tick off a general ed credit, but she needs this course for her major.
Locke is doing his best to help us, but all of this comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t know how to succinctly explain things when Hunter and I don’t grasp a concept. Chalk it up to him being a philosophy major, I guess.
“I bet snacks would help,” Locke suggests.
Hunter snorts. “If that’s a euphemism for sex, I’ll excuse myself and leave you to it.”
“I was going to suggest popcorn, but that’s not a bad idea, either.” He strokes higher up my leg, letting his tatted hand rest on my thigh. “What do you say, Hot Girl? Meet me in the pantry in five?”
With a playful eye roll, I shove his hand away.
“You wish, Emo Boy.”
He clamps down on my thigh once more, even higher now. “Yeah, I do, but so do you.”
I detach his hand from my leg and interlace our fingers, then open my mouth to reply, but promptly snap it shut when a commotion from below reaches my ears. Perking up, I shift forward on the love seat and peer over the ledge of the balcony.
The rest of the guys are home—tying up the boat on the dock and locked in a heated debate.
Hunter rises to her feet and comes to stand beside me. She watches them for a moment, a sly smile on her face. “It’s always something around here, isn’t it?” Then, looking back at me, she cocks one eyebrow. “Should I take off? Looks like you’re about to have boyfriend drama.”
“I’m sure it’s not about me,” I reply, standing and stretching my arms over my head, ignoring the way my cheeks heat at her callout.
Locke snickers. “I’ve seen the group text thread. It’s most definitely about you, Hot Girl.”
“Wait.” I drop my hands to my sides and peer down at him. “There’s a group text I’m not included in?” If so, then I’m going to be totally miffed.
It’s his turn to blush. He averts his gaze even as redness creeps up behind the red and black ink of his neck piece. “I mean, there are lots of text threads. It’s not like we purposely left you out. We’ve just always had group texts between—”
My pointed look silences him.
“That’s my cue,” Hunter singsongs. “I’m going to get another matcha and settle in for an all-nighter. Call me later?”
She gathers up her study materials, so I do the same. Once we’ve got everything collected, we go back through my room.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offer, following behind her while Locke holds the bedroom door for us both.
By the time we reach the kitchen, the guys are inside, standing in a triangle formation, all piss and vinegar and big dick energy.
Decker has his arms crossed over his chest, a surly scowl on his face.
Kylian’s wearing a pinched expression somewhere between mildly frustrated and annoyed.
Kendrick’s glower is all anger.
I assess them for all of two seconds before heading toward Kylian.
He lifts one arm without taking his eyes off Decker, allowing me to get close enough to nuzzle into his side.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond, but he gives my shoulder a squeeze and kisses my hair.
“What’s going on?” I ask, turning my attention from one guy to the next, hoping someone will fill me in.
Despite her declaration that she was leaving, Hunter is lingering in the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the bar next to Locke.
It’s Decker who finally breaks free from the showdown and sets his sights on me.
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, his jaw ticking. “We’re working out logistics for this weekend.”
“What’s this weekend?” I ask, my anxiety notching up multiple levels. I wasn’t aware of any big plans, and I don’t like being caught unaware.
Kylian pulls me closer. “We have an away game. South Texas. Transportation is confirmed, but the accommodations are proving to be problematic.”
Hunter snorts, but the sound quickly transforms into a full-on belly laugh.
At a loss for the source of her outburst, I gape at her, waiting for her to explain what the hell she thinks is so funny.
“Oh brother,” she laughs, dabbing at her eyes before the welling tears can melt her mascara. “You’re all fighting over whose room she’s going to sleep in this weekend, aren’t you?”
My heart thuds in my chest, and I suck in a sharp breath. My head oscillating like a rotating fan, I look at each of the guys, taking in their expressions. Decker and Kendrick at least look adequately bashful at the callout. Kylian just smirks.
I sag against Kylian, not mentally prepared to have this conversation but not willing to be excluded from it, either.
“What’s the plan as of now?”
Kylian answers, straightforward and precise, like always. “They have to travel with the team.” He nods at Decker and Kendrick, then over at Locke.
“As do you,” Decker adds, one haughty brow raised.
“I have the opportunity to, yes. But I’m not required to,” Kylian differentiates before turning back to me. “They’ll leave on Thursday night. I booked tickets on a separate flight for you and me. It leaves Friday afternoon.”
He looks unabashedly proud of himself. And now I’m starting to understand why Decker and Kendrick are less than excited. Locke seems fine, but for the most part, he’s laid-back compared to the others.
Kissing Kylian’s shoulder, I say a silent prayer that I’m not about to start World War III. “And if I don’t want to go?”
Kylian tenses, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my hip. Locke presses his palms into the island, watching me with a knowing simper. Kendrick steeples his hands and purses his lips, clearly annoyed.
I swear every one of us holds our breath as we turn in unison to Decker and wait for him to respond.
“Keeping you safe is our highest priority, Josephine.”
Sighing, I step forward out of Kylian’s hold and come to stand on the opposite side of the bar.
I don’t want to fight with Decker, but he should know by now that cutting me out, excluding me from these conversations, making decisions on my behalf, is not the flex.
“And why do you think traveling halfway across the country and being exposed to all the media attention you’re guaranteed to garner is the safest option?”
Hunter lets out a low whistle. Yeah, girl. I’ve got him there.
“Josephine,” Decker practically growls.
“Decker,” I mock in a deep, dumb man voice that makes Kendrick snicker and Locke shake his head.
The second I register their reactions, I regret teasing him. I’m not purposely being difficult, despite my history of riling him up for fun. I guess that’s one of the downsides of the group dynamic we’ve got going on. Relationship decisions affect a handful rather than a couple.
Standing straight and crossing his arms over his chest, he glares. “I would feel better if you’d travel with us this weekend,” he tries. “Will you… Will you come with us? Please?”
His jaw ticks like mad, and I swear there’s steam billowing out his ears.
“I would feel better—safer,” I hedge, communicating in a language this man should understand, “if I stayed home.”
He grips the counter in front of him so hard I’m tempted to march over to him and pluck each one of his fingers off the quartz. The last thing our quarterback needs is a hand injury to contend with.
“How is staying here alone safer?” he asks through gritted teeth, though his chin is dipped like he’s speaking to the smooth surface of the counter.
I approach him with slow, even steps. Every eye in the room is on me when I stop at his side.
He doesn’t acknowledge my approach or make space for me like usual.
He keeps his head bowed and his attention firmly locked on the countertop in front of him, lost in his own head, surely cycling through all the terrible what-ifs that accompany my suggestion.
Nudging his arm with my hip, I whisper, “Hey. Let me in.”
On instinct, he lifts one arm, and I duck under so I can stand directly in front of him, so close our chests almost brush. I peer up, already knowing what I’ll find when we lock eyes.
Concern.
Confusion.
Devotion.
It’s the last one that makes it all make sense.
Wrapping my arms around his middle, I push up onto tiptoes, ignoring our audience completely. He’s rock solid under my arms, an impenetrable mass of muscle and stubbornness.
Thankfully, my will is just as strong.
“Decker,” I whisper, my nails catching in the short hairs along his nape as I run my fingers up and down the taut muscles of his back. “I know you’re trying to take care of me, but sometimes caring for a person means loving them the way they want to be loved.”
His eyes flicker with curiosity, but his scowl stays firmly in place.
“I feel safe here, Cap. Do you know that? There’s nowhere else I want to be. This is my home now. I would never do anything to put myself at risk or to cause you unnecessary worry while you’re away.”
Deep onyx eyes assess me, searching for the lie.
He doesn’t completely trust me. It’s there, in the flash of reluctance in his expression. It’s a strike to the solar plexus. In my heart, though, I know his distrust isn’t all about me. Decker and I are still figuring each other out. We’re trapped in a sort of relationship purgatory.
We’ll get past it, make peace with it eventually. I’m determined to get us there. We just need more time. Time. Space. Moments like this. Where we communicate and compromise and create opportunities for the shaky trust between us to grow roots.
“There’s no threat here, Cap. Shore Week is over. South Chapel won’t bother us again. You and Kendrick and Greedy have made sure of that. You’ll be back on Sunday. There’s nothing and no one here that can hurt me.
“I know you’d feel better if I was with you… but I could really use a few days of peace and quiet. Rest. Time to study.”
He sighs, and I know we’re getting closer.
“Hunter could stay with me?” I offer, breaking out of Decker’s orbit to glance over at my friend.
“Absolutely. I can be back with an overnight bag before Kylian leaves on Friday,” she offers cheerfully. “Lord knows I could use a quiet weekend before our Logic exam.”
“Only Hunter,” Decker grunts, giving me a pointed look.
“I promise that won’t be a problem,” Hunter rushes out. She knows exactly what he’s referring to. “They’re away this weekend, too. Greedy only pulled that stunt because you all were here. Besides, he and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now anyway…”
That’s news to me, but it sounds like I’ll have all weekend to get the story out of her.
The others have all been uncharacteristically quiet. I may be wrong, but I’m taking their silence as support. I don’t need Decker’s permission to stay back, but I’d rather this feel like something we all agree on than another thing I have to fight him on.
Spinning back into his arms, I place my hands on his stomach.
His abs shudder under my touch, and I fight back a tremble of my own.
Our connection—everything between us—is like two jolts of supercharged electricity.
We’re so well matched. When it’s good, it’s so damn good.
But it makes navigating the tough stuff all the more difficult, because neither of us is good at compromising, let alone conceding.
“It’s not that I don’t want to see you play,” I murmur, just for him. “It’s just a lot to pack up, head out of town, then be on display on the bench, worried about the cameras, the media, who might be watching—”
“You’ll check in every day.” It’s a demand, not a request.
I bite back the sassy quip that begs to be released and instead run my hands up his chest and circle his neck. “Multiple times a day,” I promise solemnly.
“With me, Siren. Not just with Kylian.”
“Of course.” I agree easily, as if I was planning that all along. I wasn’t, but I don’t mind. For as much as we’re figuring things out as a group, Decker and I still have so much work ahead of us as a couple.
He turns his head slightly, enough that I track the tic of his jaw before he sets his sights back on me. “And you won’t fight me about security. I’ll have our regular guys on detail the whole time. They won’t be in your way, but they’ll be here. That’s nonnegotiable.”
This time I don’t hide my smirk. Though I’m still a work in progress, I can bend to his more reasonable requests. But I also get to call him out when he’s being an overbearing, controlling asshole. “Okay, Cap.”
“Josephine, I’m serious.” He closes his eyes and bows his head as if he’s calling on a higher power to help him through this.
“I am too,” I vow, exasperated. “I’m not fighting you on this. I’m on your team, Decker.”
He opens his eyes and settles his typical sharp look on me, brows furrowed in a way that makes his cheekbones even more prominent.
“You are the fucking team, Siren,” he whispers, catching my chin with his forefinger and thumb so I’m forced to meet his gaze.
Devotion.
Blanket, all-consuming devotion.
A shiver quakes through me. Instinctively, I tip my chin, so sure he’s about to kiss me that I can’t fight the urge to wet my lips.
“All right. Good talk.” Kendrick claps, breaking us out of the spell. “If you two are done making googly eyes at each other, maybe we could get dinner going? I’m starving.”
Locke snickers and heaves himself off the island where he’s been stationed, and without a word, Kylian wanders off, face buried in his phone. Decker takes a step back, as if suddenly remembering that we have an audience.
“I’ll text you later,” Hunter calls as she heads out toward the docks.
Locke, Decker, and Kendrick spring into action, working as a unit, pulling vegetables out of the chiller and grabbing the pots and pans they’ll need while I retreat to my room, reveling in what feels like a win.