Chapter 38
" W as that him?"
I glance over at Deandre, but he's staring straight ahead. His question lingers on the air, the echo of his voice dark and just a little dangerous.
We're on our way back to my tiny house. The rest of the guys piled back into the shop van they apparently all drove in for eight hours straight last night to get to me—and that level of dedication is still bowling me over, for all that I don't have time to focus on it right now.
Deandre insisted on riding with me. At first, I figured it was to keep an eye on me and make sure I didn't run again.
But maybe it was for this. For follow up questions he didn't want to ask in front of everyone else.
There's no point pretending I don't know what he's asking about. All the same, I clarify, "Who?"
" Him ," Deandre rumbles. "The guy whose ass you just handed to him on a silver platter back there." We pull to a stop at a light, and he turns his head to look me in the eyes. His jaw flexes, and the tendons stand out in his neck. "That was him, right? The one who made you so afraid of us."
Jesus. How does this man see straight through me like this?
"Yeah." I look away again, unable to meet his gaze.
"What was his name?"
"Richard."
Deandre pauses for a moment. The deep swallowing of his throat is audible in the tight space. "What did he do to you, girlie?"
Fuck. We really shouldn't be having this conversation while I'm driving. I grip the wheel tighter, though, edging forward as the light changes to green.
"Nothing," I lie. "Everything. He—we dated. For a couple of years. I thought we had something, but we didn't. I was just arm candy for him." I lick my parched lips. "A way for him to get easy, on-tap sex. When I asked for a commitment, he laughed."
The echo of that laughter reverberates through my memory. God, how it hurt.
Deandre goes dangerously still. "There's a part of me that wants you to turn this car around right now."
I want to ask him why, but there's no need to. Slow-boiling rage is written all over his expression. He clenches and unclenches his fist, knuckles popping. Power ripples through him, and I swallow hard.
His willingness to commit violence to avenge my broken heart probably shouldn't make me feel warm and loved inside, but I can't help it. It does.
"That won't be necessary," I promise.
"I'll be the judge of that. What else did he do?"
"What? Nothing."
"Bullshit. That man did something."
I think it over, all the hundreds of little insults that stole my confidence. The power plays at school. The way he left me to the other teachers' judgment and scorn.
"It's hard to explain, just—he made me feel worthless. Helpless. Abandoned."
That last word is the key one. I've felt alone for so much of my life, but the aftermath of our breakup was a real low.
"So you thought we were going to leave you just as high and dry," Deandre grits out.
Shame floods me. I hate that I thought so poorly of them, but he's not wrong. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't you dare apologize. That man wounded you. Ain't your fault you were waiting for the next axe to fall. We should have been clearer."
"It's not your fault, either," I insist.
He hums, like his jury is still out on that one, but I know it's true.
This is no one's fault and everyone's. Arguing about it won't get us anywhere.
What really matters is making sure it never happens again.
We spend the short remainder of the ride back to my house in silence that's not quite comfortable but not particularly awkward, either. We both just have a lot to think about, is all.
I pull into the driveway of my house. The guys' van arrives seconds later. They park right behind me, blocking me in. Cayden, Jax, Sergio and Adam pile out. Tension radiates off of them, and it's a match for the nervous energy vibrating through me.
I glance around, unable to stop myself. I have gossipy neighbors. They're going to have a field day with all of this—first my sudden return and then my colorful group of visitors.
"You looking around for someone in particular?" Jax takes me by surprise with his question.
I start, then shake it off. "No."
He doesn't look convinced, but he lets it go. I lead them to the side entrance and then inside.
And wow, I knew this was a tiny house when I rented it. The place was just for me, though. I didn't need a lot of space.
With all five of these big men crowding it, though, the entryway feels positively claustrophobic.
It doesn't get any better as they pile into my living room. They drape themselves over my little couch and squeeze into a couple of armchairs. Deandre has to stand, and I swear his head nearly scrapes the ceiling.
The place is clearly too small for them, but my life suddenly feels too small, too. My confidence from my showdown with Richard is fading fast, leaving me there ringing my hands, apologies on my lips.
"I'm so sorry you guys felt like you had to come all the way out here," I start.
Cayden shakes his head. "Don't be."
"And we didn't feel like we needed to come here," Adam says. "Clearly we did."
I shake my head. "That doesn't make any sense."
Adam leans forward in his chair. "If you needed us to show you that we care enough to cross the globe—much less a couple of state lines—for you, then we're here. We did it."
"We'd do it again," Jax says, gaze hard.
A part of me wants to argue with them, tell them I'm not worth it. But one look from Deandre, his brows raised, and I shut my mouth up tight.
That's my past talking. This is my future, and I already came so close to fucking it up. I'm not going to chance losing it again.
"Thank you," I say instead. "I'm still sorry, but—thank you."
"You're welcome," Deandre says.
I feel caged in my by all their stares, but not in a bad way, somehow.
They have me surrounded, and it's like the time they all took me, one after another after another—some of them at the same time.
I'm penned in by their bodies, but it's not a cage at all.
It's a fortress. These guys are here for me.
To make me feel good and supported and safe.
And I do. My knees sag with the relief.
I sink to sit on a little ottoman. I glance around at all of them. "How did you even find me. Coming to my school—?"
Sergio digs into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a book. He turns it on its side, exposing the name of my school stamped along its edge. I recognize it then as one I took out of the library here. I'd been reading it this week. I must have left it on Deandre's nightstand.
"Wasn't hard from there," Adam says. "Quick Google search showed you were on the faculty. Couldn't find your home address, but we figured…"
Deandre nods. "Didn't know if much else from that note you left us was true. But figured if you really were worried about your job, you'd show up there eventually."
"And if I hadn't?" I'm testing, I know.
Jax says, "We would have waited."
"Or sweet talked the school secretary into giving us more of your information," Cayden says.
"Or stolen it," Jax adds.
Adam rolls his eyes. "Hacking is barely stealing."
"You know it is," Deandre says.
Their banter washes over me, only the meat of the discussion sinking in and taking root. They came for me, and they would have stayed. They would have done anything to find me.
Sparks fire off inside my chest.
Still, there are mysteries that need to be solved. "How did you know to come?"
Jax frowns. "You're still acting like we would've just let you go."
"Not that we wouldn't respect your choice to leave," Cayden says, shooting a glare.
"But not without a fight." Deandre crosses his arms.
Then Sergio pipes up. "We saw your paintings."
Oh. Oh . I flash back to the previous morning and looking at the images I'd made through new eyes. I understand immediately what he's saying.
The canvases I filled while I was trying to sort through my emotions were filled with impossible love, but also with conflict. If someone I loved had painted them, I would have been hot on their heels in a minute.
Apparently, that's what happened here.
"Right." I rake my hair back from my eyes.
"They were beautiful," Adam says.
I shake my head. "They were things I was just playing with."
"They're amazing," Deandre insists.
After all this, I'm still having a hard time accepting the praise. I curl into myself. "They were what I felt."
Sergio nods. "So then you know why we're here."
My silence is my acknowledgment.
Cayden rises from his seat, moving to kneel in front of me. "What I still don't understand, though, is why you ran. Why then?"
"I wasn't lying. Richard really was threatening to give away my job, and I suddenly felt so penned in. Like I wasn't going to have any options—"
Deandre's expression goes grim. "You mean after we kicked you to the curb."
The rest of the guys actually recoil. There are rumbles of dissent, but I look up to meet his eyes. He knows.
I nod. "Exactly."
Cayden's eyes burn. "That's not going to happen."
"I know. I mean—I'm trying to believe. But it's hard."
"Well," Cayden says, "we're going to do everything we can to make sure you do. We're going to love on you so hard…"
I don't doubt it. The way he's looking at me, there's no room for even the tiniest bit of skepticism. I don't need him—or any of them—to say it more explicitly. He loves me. Just like I love him.
A rosy glow in my heart bursts and blooms. I'm ready to throw myself into his arms and let him kiss away all the old wounds Richard left on me, all the history of being left behind by my family.
But I can't. It doesn't matter how good I feel right now. Our time together up on the mountain was great, but there were flaws. I can't let them go unspoken now. Staying quiet would be dooming us to repeat this whole cycle again a month, a year—maybe two from now. I won't do that.
I sit up straighter. I look from Cayden to Deandre to Jax. To Sergio and Adam and back. "But it's—it's not about you"—my voice cracks—"loving me."
"We do, though," Cayden insists.
Deandre shushes him, and I glance at him appreciatively. It feels like hubris to say that they love me, even though Cayden just stated as much and received no dissent. Even though these men all rode eight hours through the night to get to me.
I've said it, though. It's out there, and there's no taking it back.
There's only forward.
"In fact…" I suck in a deep breath. "I think you've been loving on me too hard."
"What?" Cayden looks at me as if I've slapped him.
"I can't—I can't be dependent on you guys. I won't be. If you really want me to come back with you—"
"We do," Jax says.
I nod at him and keep going. "It can't be like it was. I have to contribute, you know?"
Adam frowns. "Like…?"
"Paying bills." I look to Deandre. "Helping out in the workshop." Jax. "Or the mill." Back to Adam. "The fucking dishes, even."
"Baby girl." Deandre's brows furrow, his jaw dropping. "I didn't know you felt like that."
"Because I didn't say it. You were all being so nice to me, and I appreciate that." God, do I ever. In hindsight, Richard was never so kind. So accommodating. "But if we're going to do this, I want to build a life together. And that means I have to be a part of your household."
"We thought we were giving you room," Cayden explains. "Your grandmother's house…"
"Needs work," I supply. "And I'll do it. But it's not a full time job."
"What about your art?" Sergio asks.
"It's just a hobby."
Deandre crosses his arms. "Like hell."
Reaching out, Cayden places his palm on me knee. "What you made is beautiful. We want to support you to make more of it."
"It goes both ways," Sergio says. Everything gets quiet for a minute.
Then he shrugs, going on. "You think you need to do more to be part of our family?
Okay. Do more. But then you have to let us make room for you to do things that are for you .
And that includes painting—or whatever else it is you need to do. "
"Oh." I hadn't thought of it that way.
"We'll find a balance," Cayden promises. "You just have to tell us what you need."
My stomach twists. "That's hard for me."
"Then we'll help you work on it," Deandre says.
I swallow. A weight settles over the room, warm and comforting, like a blanket.
"Soooo… what?" I dart my gaze among the guys. "Is that it? We just go home now and live like a giant commune?"
"Damn right." Jax smirks, pumping his fist.
Only it's not that easy. Not for me.
And this is the final sticking point. I have to bring it up.
"But…" I wring my hands in my lap. "Won't people talk? Eventually? We can't stay hidden up on that mountain forever. My dad will want to visit someday, maybe. Probably. Once my grandmother's house sells, everyone will know that I'm not living there. What do we tell them? What will they think?"
I'm spiraling. Hard. I need to pull up on the stick, bring myself to rights again.
But in the end, Sergio is the one to do it.
"Why do you care?" he asks.
The question steals my breath away.