CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Summer
After making sure everyone had a drink, I made my way upstairs to change. I picked out a pair of shorts and a tank top, since it had begun to feel like I had a long-sleeved bodysuit on, and not my actual work attire.
The air had thickened so much as I hit the bottom step, and instead of being able to check if I had sweat patches, I got charged at by Freya. And she didn’t arrive quietly.
For hours—really five minutes—she’s done nothing but be thankful to God for my safety.
I pat her shoulder awkwardly, wishing she would stop crying for a minute to hear me tell her I’m okay.
I’ve said it repeatedly but she’s either choosing to ignore my words or hasn’t actually heard me over her own voice.
I suck in a sharp breath when she shoves at my shoulder—the same shoulder that got hurt and is still tender to touch. I snap my head in her direction, glaring. “Bitch. What is your damage?”
“Why on earth would you go near a building you knew was going to explode?” she screams. “How irresponsible can you be?”
Jesus. Her lower lip trembles, her eyes watering once more. “Freya,” I begin, but she doesn’t even hear me. Again.
“You could have died. You should have called the police. You could have done anything but put yourself in danger. Why would you do something so stupid and reckless?”
She continues to ramble, so Jaxon steps up beside me, Lily under his arm, staying close. Their daughter is asleep in the pushchair just inside the door of the house.
I rub my hands down my shorts, quickly sharing a glance with Mark.
I’ve known Freya most of my life. She is my everything.
My ride or die. My bestie. My wifey. She’s my.
.. she’s my everything. I’m the same for her.
We’ve been through a lot, and we’ve always gone through it together.
I’ve seen her go through the worst moments of her life, I’ve seen her grieve, and yet I have never seen this side of her.
She is shaking, her lips trembling, and she’s barely holding it together.
Jaxon places a hand on her shoulder, cutting her rant short. “You’re scared, Freya, I get it, but try to calm down. Summer saved us today. If she had stopped to question what she was doing, we would all be dead right now.”
Her eyes widen, and if it wasn’t for Mark standing next to her, she would have fallen to the floor when her knees give out. He pulls her against his chest, and that’s when she bursts out crying once more.
I pull her into my arms and don’t hear what she says, because my attention is on Luke, whose head is down. He tries to whisper, to keep the words to himself, but I hear them.
“Except me.”
It’s said with so much anguish, so much guilt and pain. My heart breaks for him.
“Luke?” I call out, hoping he hears me. He jerks his chin up. “What did you say?” The others need to hear it. Because in good conscience, I cannot ignore what he said, even if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
He runs his fingers through his hair, but his gaze flicks to his older brother beside me. “I was in the van organising it all to fit. I wouldn’t have been in the house, even if Summer hadn’t turned up.”
Ah, he feels guilty over the fact that he may have survived if things had gone differently, if I hadn’t shown up when I did.
“You saw the state of the van. You may not have gotten out of that in time,” Jaxon points out. “Look, the main thing is, we are all okay. Let’s not think about the what ifs.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Freya whispers, squeezing me.
“Me too. Me too.”
“Looks like some of the food is arriving,” Malia calls out.
I pull Freya over to the step, tugging her down with me. “God, I’m exhausted.”
“You did save a bunch of people from being blown-up,” she points out, then clears her throat, her gaze briefly flicking to the side. “Is there a reason Reid keeps staring at you?”
I inwardly laugh because there is no way he didn’t hear her ask me. He isn’t standing that far away. I lean in, whispering, but not doing it quietly. “He wants me to use my vibrator on him. He doesn’t understand how sacred the big bob is.”
Feigning shock, she sucks in a breath, placing a hand over her heart. “How dare he!”
I’m barely able to hold back my laughter. “He’s wearing a butt plug. It’s why he looks constipated.”
“You’ve had your fun,” he growls. “And if that’s what you need your friend to believe, keep going.
” He turns to Freya, pouting. “I’m not ready to give up my virginity to her, so she’s asked if I will agree to get my dick moulded so she can have a vibrator specially made.
” He grabs the railing, leaning in closer to whisper.
“That’s the real reason she was there this morning.
She wanted to know when I could fit in it.
Don’t let the cat out of the bag. She likes playing the hero. ”
I scoff. “I’m not a fan of butt plugs,” I retort, earning a snort from Freya.
Reid’s eyebrows draw together. I would take pity on him and explain, but Hayden beats me to it. “She’s saying a mould of your dick would be the size of a butt plug.” She glances at me, rolling her eyes. “Men.”
“Um, why is your dad driving Summer’s car?” Freya questions, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Oh crap,” I whisper.
“Wait, why is my mum with him?” Hayden asks. “She’s supposed to be at the church with Charlotte.”
I don’t get the chance to explain because Max has the car stopped and is already tugging an annoyed Lake—who I met at a barbeque the Carters were hosting—out of the car.
“There she is,” he yells, pointing his finger at Malia. “Get her.”
“I am not a dog,” Lake snaps at her husband, pushing him away.
Malia freezes for a moment, taking in the slender woman, most likely wondering if she would really fight over a brownie for her husband.
The silent question is answered when Lake gives her a warm smile. “I hope you’re okay. I was told your family had quite the scare today.”
Max sucks in a sharp breath. “She stole my brownie and you’re asking if she is okay?” he argues. “Are you going to let her get away with it?”
Lake glares at her husband. “And, pray tell, where did you get this brownie?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “From the kitchen.”
“Whose kitchen, Max?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips.
“Does it matter? She stole my food,” he argues. “Tell her to replace it. I know she has a chocolate fudge cake in there. That will do.”
Lake shakes her head, but it’s not the shake someone gives when they can’t believe something. It’s more like a shake of her head that says, I love him, I do, but give me strength.
She digs into her bag and pulls out a plastic container that is filled with either brownies or chocolate cake. “Will this do? I picked it up from the church bake sale.”
“They had a bake sale?” he asks, snatching the container, looking like a man who has just been betrayed.
“I did ask you to volunteer,” she points out.
“You said it was organising donations. You didn’t mention anything about a bake sale.”
“Because I wanted you to continue to help for your grandparents, not because there’s food involved.”
“We don’t believe in God. It feels weird being there without her.”
“We got married in a church,” she points out.
“And look what happened there.”
Freya leans into me. “He fascinates me but scares me at the same time.”
Lake sighs, like she expected that comment. “Which is why I won’t bribe you to go or continuously remind you that we got married in a church.”
“I love you,” he tells her. “I forgive you for not fighting for my brownie.”
“I would never have given in to your demands,” Malia snorts. “I would rather feed them to the wildlife than give them to you.”
“What did I ever do to you?” Max snaps.
“You stole my fucking food. I hate baking. Loathe it. But I do it because I know it will be worth it. What I don’t do it for is other people.”
“She’s right. The only reason she bakes extras is so we don’t steal hers. But we do the same when we bake,” Mercedes comments.
“Then bake me extras. Problem solved,” he offers.
Everyone, except his wife, widens their eyes at him. Lake just looks heavenward as Malia takes a closer step toward him. “You aren’t welcome here. I already have a sign being ordered.”
“That’s not fair. Where else are we going to have our eating contest? My wife doesn’t like me doing shit like that in our garden. Me and my brother-in-law tried to make a water slide and she lost her shit.”
Malia arches an eyebrow. “Wait... that note was from you?”
His eyebrows pinch together. “Who else would it be from? I told you at the spa opening thing we should do one.”
Malia laughs, throwing her head back she laughs that hard. “Maybe you shouldn’t laugh,” I mumble from the side of my mouth when I see Max begin to go red.
“This is so funny though,” she declares, and the minute she glances at Max, she doubles over, laughing even harder as she clutches her stomach. “I can’t. I really can’t. I thought he was joking at the party. I can’t...”
“Can’t win you mean,” he grumbles, and she splutters out more laughter.
“Max, take your cake, sit down, and shut up,” Lake orders, pinching the bridge of her nose when it’s clear he’s going to say more.
She glances at Malia. “I would apologise for him, but if you know him, you’ll know it’s all I would be doing.
So I’m going to say this once, and once only, I am deeply sorry for my husband.
That apology extends until the day he dies.
Honestly, he isn’t as bad as he acts. Normally, you can sit him in the corner with a five-course meal and a slinky and hope he entertains himself. ”
Max’s eyes widen as he stares at his wife with a pained look. The hand holding the cake has frozen halfway to his mouth. “That’s it, wife, twist the knife whilst it’s firmly wedged in my back. How could you? I am your husband and you’re apologising to the enemy.”