Noah
RACHEL IS DRIVING US to the station while I practice a speech that I am secretly wishing I won’t need in my mind.
‘No officers, we did not kill anyone, and my husband is a law-abiding citizen. He could never hurt a damn fly. What was that? You are asking about the man he punched last week, and it’s the same man that told you we killed someone.
Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it, officer? He told me what happened.
My husband did nothing wrong; this guy is out to get him.
’ It sounds convincing in my head, if we don’t count throwing Logan under the bus and claiming Leo as my husband in front of Rachel, Kai, and the whole police station.
“Are you coming?” Rachel calls out, and I realize she has parked the car and is halfway to the station’s door. I rush out, closing my door a little too hard, and Rachel side-eyes me with a scolding look.
“Fuck off. Don’t you even start about the damn door.
” I bark as we enter inside. The small police department is packed with people, because the smaller the town, the bigger the fights on the weekend and on Friday night.
No one can seem to stay out of trouble here.
On the happier side of morbid news, we are actually fitting in here quite well, all four of us. A little band of criminals.
“Hello, my name is Rachel Roberts. I am here to pick up...” She stops scanning the place for our boyfriends. “Those two idiots.” She points at them, happily sitting on the floor of one of the holding cells.
“Weren’t you the one who called us about them in the first place?
” A younger officer asks, and Rachel shoots him a look.
He immediately changes his tone, because my friend is scary, and honestly, I would do the same.
“I am sure it was a misunderstanding.” He claims before he leaves to go get the idiots in question.
Finally, he comes back with the two men looking like wet cats. “Let’s go.” I say and motion to Leo, who doesn’t argue, leaving his friend at Rachel’s mercy without hesitation.
“Thank you for saving me.” He whispers as we head to the road and motions to the taxi stop at the end of the road. “Let’s go get a cab. We can talk about this at home.”
“Your home?” He questions.
“Well, husband,” I say, emphasizing the word. “We don’t share one yet, and I don’t know where you live. Plus, you seem too drunk to leave you to your own.”
“Fair.” He nods, and it’s clear he is still too drunk for his own good.
This night is a fucking mess. In fact, this damn week has been a mess, and we shouldn’t be trusted to make any fucking decisions ever again.
None of us. Especially not me, because the more time I spend with this man, the more head over heels fucking in love I am falling for him. Denying it is useless.
I grip his t-shirt and pull him closer; my lips press on his, and just like that, everything is okay between us again.
All the worrying seems stupid now, as if there had never been even a sliver of possibility that this man would hold a grudge against me.
He presses his body against mine, his hand firmly on my back as he holds me, kissing me in a way that erases every kiss I have ever had in my life.
It’s just in this moment that I know this is not a fake marriage, and this man will always be my husband.