WITSEC

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Sitting at the dining room table, I told Logan everything. I told him about Jacob and how he had approached me at the grocery store, about Gabe and how he had threatened me at the mud run, and lastly, everything the sheriff had said. Keelan asked how the sheriff had gotten in with the alarm set in the first place. Logan's assumption was that the sheriff had had the security company disarm it, intercepted the call from the alarm company after he’d set it off, or snuck into the house in the time I’d disarmed the alarm and rearmed it.

“There’s no way to prove the latter to be true because all the cameras around the house were covered with pieces of duct tape. And I won’t know if the alarm went off until I call the alarm company,” Logan said tightly as he glared at the table.

After that, he didn’t say anything for the longest time. Not that he needed to. He may have been silent, but the irritation that radiated off of him said enough. With the way Keelan squeezed my hand under the table, he must have sensed it, too.

Abruptly, Logan scooted his chair back and made his way over to the guns lined up on my kitchen island. “When is your next session with Dr. Bolton?” he asked as he picked up one, released the magazine, studied it as if to see if it was full or had been tampered with. When he didn’t find anything amiss, he reloaded the gun and moved on to the next one.

“Tomorrow,” I answered.

“Good. You can tell her how you still get panic attacks.”

My stomach sank. I was unsure why he felt the need to announce that, but I was sure I was about to find out.

Logan’s eyes flicked to Keelan. “You know she has those, right? I know you know about the nightmares. What about the PTSD? Have you witnessed that yet? One minute, she’ll be standing there talking to you and the next, a noise or something you say will trigger an episode. She won’t see you. She won’t hear you, and don’t think about trying to pull her out of it. She’ll think you’re X and things could get violent.”

Keelan eyed Logan in an assessing way. “Is there a reason you’re telling me this?”

For a moment, I wondered why he hadn’t admitted he knew about the PTSD or that he’d helped me through multiple episodes. Then I saw Logan’s reaction. Something flickered in his eyes. Triumph? Glee? Arrogance? All three? “It’s not easy taking care of someone with PTSD.”

I looked down at the table to hide the hurt I knew was showing in my eyes.

Keelan squeezed my hand again. “When you love someone, you are there for them, even when things aren’t easy.”

I glanced at Keelan. Did he just admit he loves me?

Without taking his eyes off of Logan, he brushed his thumb over the back of my hand.

“That sentiment right there is what makes you naive. Until you realize how much you’ll constantly need to be there for her and how it interrupts your life, you will never understand.”

“So what you’re saying is that being there for Shiloh is inconvenient?” Keelan asked with a tight voice.

The triumph in Logan dimmed a little. “What I’m saying is that being there for someone with PTSD is hard.”

“Is that why you turned a blind eye to it?” Keelan questioned. “Shi’s trauma was too hard for you, so you ignored the fact that she was self-destructing?”

Logan’s nostrils flared as he exhaled. “Don’t twist what I’m saying. You have no idea?—”

“No idea of what?” Keelan snapped. “No idea how to be there for someone I love? Or how about being there for someone while I’m suffering, too?” Keelan’s chest rose and fell rapidly as his anger started to show. “I watched my mom die slowly when I was eleven. I held her hand in the last hours of her life as she fought to breathe. She died in pain and scared and unable to take in enough air to say the last words she wanted to say to us. My family’s world was shattered with her loss. My older brother withdrew and was hell-bent on self-destructing. My father shut down for years, and in that time, I was left with taking care of my little brothers who didn’t fully understand that their mom was gone or that Dad was too grief-stricken to be there for them. At eleven, I set myself and my pain aside so I could be what they needed. Then I did it again when my dad died.”

I squeezed his hand this time—a silent way to tell him I was here.

“I’m not saying you’re a bad person for failing to step up because you were suffering, too?—”

Logan slammed his hands down on the counter. “I did the best I could!”

“And what about now?!” Keelan yelled back. “Are you doing your best for her now? Or what’s best for yourself?” Fuming, Keelan continued before Logan could speak. “Tell me this: If you got your way right now and you relocated her, how long before you abandoned her again to satisfy your need for revenge?”

Logan glared at Keelan with venomous rage and Keelan stared right back at him, calm and looking unimpressed.

“You don’t want to relocate her because you think my brothers and I will compromise her safety,” Keelan said. “You want to do it because it’s an easier and faster solution than dealing with the sheriff. But Shiloh won’t leave because of me and my brothers. So that’s where you’re focusing most of your attention. You’re grasping at fucking straws trying to tear us apart so you can get what you want. It’s why you brought up her PTSD.”

“I was trying to get you to understand the hardships you’ll face by being with my niece,” Logan ground out.

“No. You weren’t,” Keelan seethed. “You were using Shiloh’s PTSD to manipulate me into leaving her. And that tells me that the deal you made with me didn’t mean a thing. It wasn’t a test to see if I could protect Shiloh. You made that deal with me because you didn’t think I could beat you.”

He was talking about the fight between them. Logan had said I could stay if Keelan could beat him, and Keelan had beaten him.

“Everyone handles grief differently, which is why I understand your need to hunt down X no matter what. At the same time, you’re hurting Shiloh, and that’s not okay. Your actions cause ripples,” Keelan explained. “Did you know that anytime we try to help or be there for Shiloh, she thinks of herself as a burden? After hearing you refer to PTSD as inconvenient and hard, I now know why she thinks that way.”

Logan straightened his stance. And just by looking at him, I knew Keelan’s words had fallen on deaf ears. “You don’t get to sit there and lecture me, boy. You have no idea the danger you and your brothers are inserting yourselves into. And for what? Pussy? You’d be better off finding a nice, normal girl. Better yet, you could find one you don’t have to share.”

All I could do was gape at Logan. I had no words. Just feelings. The hurt and betrayed kind. And even if I did say something at that moment, to him it wouldn’t matter. He’d only listen to respond, not listen to understand. Logan was so consumed with desperation—the desperation to keep me safe and the desperation to hunt down Mr. X. And right now, one interfered with the other.

Slowly, Keelan pushed back his chair and stood. “Let’s go,” he said, staring down at me.

Nothing was said as we walked around the table or as we passed Logan until Keelan paused just before exiting the room. He glanced back at my uncle. “To answer your question, we know about the PTSD. We’ve witnessed it.” He seemed like he was going to part ways with that, but the muscle in his jaw clenched. “If you ever make my girlfriend’s trauma seem like a burden again or refer to her as just pussy, you won’t walk out of the hospital next time we spar. I’ll make sure you have to be wheeled out.”

For a split second, I thought I saw guilt flicker in Logan’s eyes before he looked away.

Keelan helped me carry the groceries that had been forgotten on my coffee table over to his house and then helped me unpack and put them away. Right away, I tried to lose myself in the task of preparing reheatable meals I’d planned for Keelan and a hearty dinner for tonight. Unfortunately, it didn’t work. My mind raced as I collected ingredients, then began chopping vegetables and herbs. What had happened with Logan had been too shocking—too ugly to ignore.

Keelan sat at the island, quietly watching my every move. “I’m here when you’re ready,” he said with a gentleness that nearly shattered my fragile will to stay strong.

I paused in my chopping, knife mid-slice through an onion. “I could take the awful things Logan said to heart. I could let it feed into my already-heavy guilt. But I’m not going to.” I continued chopping. “Grief can be a catastrophic thing. You can let it destroy either you or those around you. I know I’m making it sound like a choice. It is and it’s not. Like all things in life, how grief is handled is based on choices. What no one prepares you for is how cruel and manipulative bastard grief can be or how it uses your pain to beat you down again and again. Grief clouds the roads laid before you and it’s so easy to get lost.”

With a heavy sigh, I set down my knife. My eyes kept blurring and I didn’t want to chop off a finger. I glanced up at the ceiling to regain my composure. “I can choose to be mad and hurt right now or I can set those feelings aside and understand that Logan is lost in his grief. I knew he was hurting. I just…I just didn’t know how badly until today.”

“Grief doesn’t excuse hurting others,” he said. “And you’re allowed to feel hurt by him, because he will hurt you again and again, and every time he will rationalize doing so.”

“Because he’s desperate to get back to hunting Mr. X.”

Keelan nodded. “You’re allowed to reach that moment where enough is enough and not tolerate anymore. But when you reach that moment is up to you.”

I sniffled. “I can’t give up on him.”

“Explaining to him that you’re done being hurt by him isn’t giving up on him.”

“What if he doesn’t respect that?” I asked.

He gave me a sad look. “I don’t know. But whatever happens, you won’t have to face it alone.”

I nodded.

“What are you cooking?” he asked.

I told him what I had planned to do for him to make life a little bit easier while he healed.

“You’re doing this all for me?”

Giving him my back, I started adding ingredients to a pot. “Isn’t that what you do for someone you love? Be there for them, or in this case, offer comfort the best way you know how in a difficult time?”

I heard his chair move before I felt his presence behind me. With an arm around my waist, he spun me to face him and held me against his chest. His eyes held mine. “You love me?”

I swallowed loudly as I did my best to find courage. “Yes.”

He gave me the happiest smile before leaning down to kiss me. It was such a loving kiss. Unhurried in a way that ensured every moment of it would be sown into my memory. The feel of his lips, his taste, the way he held me.

His arm moved down from my waist and under my butt before lifting me up. When he began carrying me out of the kitchen, I realized he wasn’t supposed to be doing that. I ripped my mouth from his. “Keelan! Put me down.” Even though he was carrying me with his good arm, he still had a concussion, and I didn’t want him straining himself by lifting me.

“I’m fine,” he argued as he walked us into the dining room.

“Put me down,” I said firmly.

With a sigh, he pulled out a chair from the table, spun it around, and sat with me straddling his lap. His hands roamed up and down my back before settling on my hips. “I’d planned on taking you to my room, where I intended to make love to you, but seeing you like this…” He rocked my hips with his hands, grinding me against his already-hard cock. “I’d rather you ride me in this chair.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and nipped his lips. “Oh, really?”

His fingers latched onto the bottom of my top. I assisted him in removing it by lifting my arms. He dropped my shirt on the dining room floor and my bra followed in the same manner.

Keelan pressed his lips to the hollow of my throat and licked his way down to the top of one of my breasts. His teeth came into play there, biting lightly as he made his way to my nipple. When he reached it, his tongue lapped over the hardened tip, making me shiver, before he sucked it into his mouth.

“Have I told you how much I love your breasts?” he asked as he cupped my other boob in his hand.

Sliding my fingers through his hair, I huffed a laugh. “I believe you have. But if you’d like to tell me again, I’m all ears.”

He tugged on my nipple with his teeth, making me hiss and arch my back. His tongue licked away the sting and then he pulled away, his hand taking over for his mouth. He weighed my heavy-feeling breasts in his hands before pushing them together. “I love them so much that one of these days, I hope you let me fuck them.”

Fighting a smile, I said, “Sounds messy.”

He gave me a dirty grin. “Oh, baby girl, I plan to make a mess all over these.”

I put my hands on top of his. “Are my boobs the only thing that you love?”

He grabbed my hands and brought one to his mouth. He kissed my palm. “I love your hands. Especially when they’re wrapped around my?—”

Snorting, I yanked my hand away from his mouth. “Dirty Stone boy.”

His grin broadened and he recaptured my hand. He brought my wrist to his mouth and pressed his lips over the scarred flesh. “I love this,” he said. Then he brought my other scarred wrist to his mouth. He kissed me there, too. “I love this.” His mouth traveled up my inner forearm, right over the long, jagged scar that went from the crease of my elbow down to my wrist. He kissed me there and a breath shuddered out of me. “I love this,” he said again, and I had to blink away the burn in my eyes.

He kissed me on my shoulder, my collarbone, my neck, each of my cheeks, and my nose. Each time saying, “I love this.” The last place he kissed was over my heart. “I love this most of all,” he said as he pulled away to level his gaze with mine. “I love all of you, Shiloh.”

I sat there unable to speak because I was doing my darnedest not to cry.

He brushed my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to cry topless,” I said with a wobbly voice.

Laughter filled his eyes. “We wouldn’t want that.”

“Don’t laugh,” I said. “You’re supposed to look sexy topless, not a booger-y mess.”

Keelan snorted.

“Keelan,” I chastised.

He closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are,” I said, and my shoulders involuntarily shook.

His eyes shot open. “If I can’t laugh, you can’t laugh.”

“I didn’t laugh.”

“I felt you laugh.”

I bit my lip, but as I stared at him, I cracked, and I started laughing.

Smiling, Keelan’s eyes dropped to my chest. “I take it back. You can laugh as much as you want.”

I threw my arms over my shaking breasts.

He pouted like a child who’d gotten his favorite toy taken away.

Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward and kissed him. “I love all of you, too. Even your obsession with my boobs.”

He kissed me back and things quickly went from sweet and tender to hot and aching.

“You have two options,” he said. “We can take this to the bedroom and there, I’ll make love to you. Or I’ll fuck you on this chair, and though I’ll do it with love, it will be filthy, and it will be rough.”

Smiling, I answered with, “I’ve never had sex on a chair.”

He smiled back. “Stand up.”

I climbed off his lap, and he wasted no time unbuttoning my jean shorts. He pulled them, along with my underwear, down my legs slowly, revealing my sex to himself like a present. He sure stared at it as if it was a gift he always wanted.

I helped him out of his shirt, careful of his shoulder as I did. Lifting his hips, he shimmied out of his pants and boxers. Our clothes littered the floor around us.

I stood in front of him and let him stare at me. “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“All the things I want to do to you.”

“What things?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I nodded and stepped toward him, intending to climb onto his lap.

He caught me by my hips. “Turn around.”

I did, giving him my back. Guiding me by my hips, he pulled me into his lap, my wet core landing right on top of his hard length. He groaned, grinding his shaft against me. “Already soaked for me.” His hands glided over the tops of my thighs until he reached my knees. “Open your legs.” I let him spread me open wide. “Lie back.”

As soon as I rested my head on his good shoulder, his hands began running all over me—my stomach, my ribs, along my sternum between my breasts. He guided my arms over my head and around his neck, then ran the backs of his hands along the undersides of my upper arms and down the sides of my breasts. He touched me everywhere but the places I wanted him to touch me most.

“Look at you,” he said. With me lying against him, he had a direct view down the front of my body.

His fingers began to draw circles on my stomach, moving lower and lower before veering off toward my thigh.

Squirming, I begged, “Touch me.”

He chuckled as he ran one finger across my pelvis, inches from where I was pulsing, to the top of my other thigh. “So impatient.”

“You’re teasing me. Why?”

His lips trailed along my neck, his tongue tasting my skin as he did. “Because I love watching you squirm for me.” His fingers did agonizingly slow swirls back toward my center of my pelvis. “Because I want your pussy aching for me.”

My hips bucked when his fingers stopped centimeters above my pulsing clit.

I felt his lips stretch into a smile against my jaw. “Because I love it when you beg for me.”

“Please, please touch me,” I begged, giving him what he wanted and hoping in return he’d give me what I wanted.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and his fingers dove between my legs.

My body arched as he found my clit. He rubbed it gently and slowly. The worst combination when it came to that little spot.

“More, Keelan,” I breathed.

His other hand went to one of my breasts and began tweaking the sensitive peak of my nipple between a thumb and finger.

That wasn’t exactly what I wanted more of, and he knew it, too.

Then the pressure and movement disappeared from my clit as his fingers stopped moving.

I let out a frustrated growl and my hand shot down on top of his. With my fingers guiding his, I added the pressure and movement needed.

His chest bounced beneath me as he laughed silently. “You going to show me how it’s done, baby?” His husky voice filled my ear.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would stop teasing me.”

He sucked the lobe of my ear between his teeth before he whispered, “Then show me how you make yourself come.” He moved our hands, swapping their places, and now his were on top of mine, guiding my fingers to my clit. “Show me.”

I gave myself a heartbeat to let what he was asking sink in before I began working my clit in the way I knew how to get myself off.

“That’s it,” he encouraged as his fingers left mine and moved lower. He plunged two fingers inside of me, making my breath hitch. He curled his fingers inside me, and he began rubbing a spot that made my legs squeeze around his. An intense and warm pressure built—one that I wasn’t used to feeling when trying to find release.

“Keelan, what?—”

“Don’t stop. Keep rubbing that little clit and relax,” he ordered as he dropped his other hand from my breast to wrap his arm around my ribcage, holding me to him.

I didn’t understand why he’d done that until his fingers inside picked up speed. I cried out and my hips bucked up. I wanted to get away and beg him not to stop at the same time. Through the delirium, I remembered the arm he had around me was his hurt one and I forced my body to settle as I felt the peak coming. The moment I reached it, the most intense and wonderful contractions rippled inside of me at the same time I felt a gush of wetness hit my inner thighs.

“What—” In a panic, I tried to sit up. Keelan’s arm around me held me still.

“Relax, Shi,” he said and pulled his fingers from me.

“Why does it feel like I peed?”

“You didn’t. I made you squirt. That’s why everything feels wet.”

“Why?” was all I could think of to say. I knew what squirting was and never thought it would happen to me, which was why I still wasn’t sure if I should be embarrassed or not.

“Because I wanted to make you feel good and because it was hot as fuck,” he replied as he brought his drenched hand to his mouth. He gave his fingers a quick lick and closed his eyes. “You taste so sweet. Next time we do that, I’m going to bury my face in that pussy and lick every inch of you clean.”

And just like that, any hint of embarrassment vanished, and I was ready to go again. Only this time I wanted him inside of me. I tapped the arm around me so he would let me sit up. “Well, so far you’ve delivered on the filthy part,” I said over my shoulder.

He gave me a cocky smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”