Chapter 8 - Bash
BASH
The distance between where Livy resides and the Ruck House isn’t far, which is obviously all by design.
At first, I wanted her to live alone without a roommate because that would give me full access to her, and it would feel like I had her to myself.
But Caiden, who isn’t that much older than me, but seems to have been running his part of the world since he was twelve, pointed out that I’d have a much better shot of easing her into letting me be part of her life if showed up as Kalen’s teammate, someone she already has to be around because of Juniper.
I’ve already fucked that up a bit, I’d say because of the whole gawking at her like I’ve never seen a woman before in my life.
I mean, to my credit, I haven’t paid attention to any of them, and I think that should balance out the fact that the first time we’ve spoken in all these years, I blurted out that I’d always protect her.
The cold air burns in my lungs as I run, and rain is pouring now, pelting against my face, soaking through my clothes and dripping from the edge of my hood, but I don’t slow down.
By the time I reach the house, I swear I can feel my heartbeat hammering throughout my entire body.
The pulsing is agitating, and I know it’s because I had to leave her.
I’ve never felt an aching sensation like this before.
I need her in ways I can’t even explain, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.
Most of the guys are still out celebrating the win, which means the house is almost completely quiet when I take the stairs two at a time toward my room.
Nights like this, most of the guys don’t come back until the sun is up.
Except for maybe Kalen, but I’d never hear him anyway.
He’s a quiet motherfucker. Jeremy, from what he tells me, makes an appearance at the pub just long enough for people to think he’s there and then he fucks off to one of his three sister’s homes.
Apparently he’s the youngest by a big age difference, and he’s the only boy in the family.
I’m not a psychoanalyst, but I’d venture to bet that’s why he acts like a giant toddler sometimes.
I realized that the other day when Kalen called me over to the pub at like ten in the morning, saying he had some super secret thing to do in the countryside.
He reiterated that it was a secret, and he couldn’t divulge where he was going, and I had to remind him that I literally do not care if he was going to burn down an old folks’ home.
Not my business or problem. All of that just to ask me to keep an eye on Juniper for him.
A face-to-face meeting at a restaurant that should have been a text.
When I was leaving, I realized that Jeremy was there too.
He did not have any super secret missions, but instead was forcing The Red Boot Pub’s cook to let him make suggestions to the menu because it’s the only place he’ll eat aside from his sisters’ homes.
I feel nothing but relief when I’m in my room and the monitors glow softly in the dark. I don’t bother turning on the light as I change out of my wet clothes and into dry sweatpants.
Over two dozen small camera feeds flicker across the screens.
Campus walkways.
The street outside Livingston’s house.
But that’s not what I need to see tonight. I move a few things around and make one of the monitors show only one room. It’s broken up into a few camera angles, and I pick the one I want and enlarge it to be the entire screen.
My chest tightens slightly when the feed of my girl’s room flickers to life.
If I can’t be with her, I’m going to watch every move she makes. I’ll count how many times she brushes her hair, and every lash framing her beautiful eyes.
I don’t care what she’s doing, I just need to see her.
The camera feed flickers for a moment before stabilizing. Livingston is already inside her bedroom.
She’s pacing back and forth across the small space, her arms folded tightly around herself as she moves from the window to the bed and then back again.
Even through the grainy glow of the monitor, I can see the tension in her shoulders.
I just want to hold her, and the universe is fucking cruel for keeping us apart like this.
The thought of going over there, barging into her room and enveloping her in my arms until she understands that we belong together crosses my mind.
She needs me, she just doesn’t know it yet.
Whatever was on that phone is still sitting heavy on her mind, and my jaw tightens as I watch her.
The instinct to go over there, to knock on the door and demand she show me the message that upset her, presses hard against the inside of my ribs. But that would defeat the entire point of easing myself into her life.
If Livingston realizes how closely I’m watching her, I’ll lose whatever fragile trust might be beginning between us.
The bedroom door opens before I can think about it any further, and Juniper walks in.
I frown immediately.
It’s irrational. I know that.
But the moment she steps into the room, I feel an unexpected flicker of annoyance because now I’m not alone with Livy anymore.
Juniper has been nothing but kind to Livingston since the moment she moved in.
From everything I’ve seen, she’s protective of her, and I think that’s because she knows everything even about me kind of sort of stalking Livy.
That was a stipulation of the arrangement to bring Livingston in as her roommate.
Kalen insisted that she would know everything that he knows and nothing less.
She and Kalen come as a package deal, apparently.
Miranda knows nothing, and I’d like to keep it that way.
Livingston turns the phone toward Juniper almost immediately, showing her what I assume is the message she received earlier.
I watch their conversation play out silently on the screen and then zoom in on her phone to read the text message that appears to be from an encrypted number.
Unknown
Stop being such a slut. Letting that filthy boy paw at you like that. What would your daddy think?
Oh, this fucker wants to bring me into this?
Clearly someone saw us outside of the pub, but where?
There’s still a chance this isn’t from the person who has been nosing around looking for Livy.
It could be someone on campus who’s jealous of her, feels rejected by her, or maybe they don’t like me.
It’s too soon to tell, but all I do know is that someone is going to die.
Juniper’s brows pull together as she reads it. Her expression softens a moment later, and she reaches out to squeeze Livy’s arm in what is clearly meant to be reassurance.
Livy exhales slowly, her shoulders sagging a little as Juniper talks to her.
I don’t know what she’s saying, but whatever it is seems to be having a positive effect on my girl.
Juniper’s dog comes into view and looks right at the camera I hid so well no one would ever find them unless they were looking for them.
I didn’t have Scooby-Doo being my downfall in my list of scenarios.
Sprinkles? I gotta ask Kalen what the fuck that dog’s name is because now, it’s irritating me that I don’t know.
She cocks her head to the side and stares at me through my monitor, and then by some divine intervention gets distracted by one of her toys she leaves strewn about.
I pace the length of my own room while the girls talk presumably about the text. The monitors glow softly against the wall as I move back and forth, glancing up every few seconds to make sure she’s still there.
It feels like forever before Juniper finally leaves, and I’m miffed that she doesn’t take the mutt with her. No, the dog is on my girl’s bed curled up and chewing the eyes off a green St. Killian’s bear. In my spot no less.
Livy stands there for a moment after Juniper leaves, staring down at the phone still clutched in her hand. Then she finally sets it on the nightstand and begins getting ready for bed.
I swallow slowly as she pulls her sweater over her head, and it’s like I’m on autopilot because I’m suddenly in my desk chair, leaning in like I might see her better if my face is practically on the screen.
My songbird’s movements are casual, unselfconscious in a way that makes my chest tighten. Her blonde hair spills forward over her shoulders as the fabric disappears, and for a moment she stands there in nothing but a pair of pale pink panties.
The sight of her hits me harder than I expect, and I’m instantly hard as a fucking rock. I should be more focused on that text and how she’s feeling right now, but I’m like a bobblehead looking at how beautiful she is.
Livingston’s body is soft, I just know it is, and perfectly curved in ways that make it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.
Her breasts are full and tipped upward, the delicate pink of her nipples that make me want to risk it all just to have them in my mouth.
She smelled sweet tonight, and I wasn’t even close enough to breathe her in like I really wanted to.
My pulse jumps when she slides her panties off and tosses them in the hamper while she digs around in a dresser drawer looking for something specific.
I want my mouth and hands all over her entire body.
Heat curls low in my stomach, sharp and immediate as I try to think about where I would even start.
Her mouth. I would definitely start with a long, slow kiss on her lips, but then there’s no telling where I’d go next. I want all of her, every single inch.
Desire like this would usually be easy to deal with right now, but I don’t reach for my cock.
I don’t even consider it.
Because the thought of touching myself right now feels like it wouldn’t satisfy me.
If I’m going to feel any kind of pleasure, it will come from her. No exceptions. I want the soft brush of her hands on my skin. I want to know what the warmth of her mouth feels like wrapped around my length. Anything less than that feels pointless.
So instead I simply watch and clench my fists as Livingston pulls on a t-shirt that looks worn and soft with age, the hem brushing the top of her thighs before she climbs into bed.
Before settling under the blanket, she reaches toward the nightstand.
My gaze drops immediately to the small object she picks up.
Pepper spray.
She keeps it clutched loosely in her hand as she settles against the pillows and pats the sprinkle monster on the head, probably telling her to have sweet dreams.
Something about that twists painfully in my chest because it means she doesn’t feel safe. The main light in her room is still on when she closes her eyes, which is common for my girl. She must not like the dark, and that makes me sad.
Livingston doesn’t fall asleep easily, she never does. She tosses once. Twice. Her teeth catch lightly against her lower lip as she turns onto her side, her brows pulling together in a faint crease that never quite relaxes.
Watching her struggle to sleep makes something ache deep inside my chest. I know exactly what she needs. She needs someone who can stand between her and everything that haunts her. Someone who will make sure she never has to wake up in fear again.
The thought of climbing into that bed beside her is almost unbearable. Turning off the light and pulling her against my chest so she could finally rest without worrying about what might be waiting for her in the dark.
I know, with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, that she would sleep peacefully if she were in my arms. And one day, when she finally understands what I’ve been trying to protect all these years she’ll know that too.
I pull out a notepad from my drawer. Sometimes I write her notes when I need to say something that she isn’t ready to hear. One day I’ll give her the box I keep them in, and the cassette tape I made for my songbird so long ago.
My Songbird,
3,748 days. I know the number without looking it up.
Ten years, two months and six days since the first time I saw your face.
I track every aspect of your life like you’re my religion.
When I reveal myself, you’ll understand that I’ll never worship anyone else.
You were always meant to be mine, my little songbird.
But for now, I have to settle for keeping you safe.
Yours in every lifetime.