61
“B reakfast,” Dakota cries amid the chaos happening around us.
“Koty, cool it,” Fallon sighs, limping into the kitchen.
“No.” Dakota rounds on her sister and me. “Sit your butt down and shut up. Both of you.” Tears well in her eyes, and she presses a hand to her heart.
Fallon grumbles. “I don’t need to sit. I’m fine.”
I glare at her. “You ain’t fine.”
“You’re the one with a head injury,” she snaps back. “You sit.”
The last few hours have been a blur. Me and Fallon in one hospital bed because we wouldn’t let go of each other. Davis ordering the doctor around. Getting stitched up. Pain in my temple. Scrubbing blood off Fallon’s hands. IV fluids to flush the drugs from her system.
Now we’re at Dakota and Davis’s, crammed in their kitchen.
Everyone’s here, looking wild-eyed and haggard from the last twenty-four hours.
Reese and Ford. Ruby and Charlie. Stede and Richter.
Everyone’s running on fumes, no sleep. But after yesterday’s terrifying chaos, no one is ready to let us out of their sight.
I know the feeling. I’ve barely let go of Fallon’s hand since I got her back in my arms. She keeps reaching back to touch me like she knows I need it just as much as her. That physical connection that’s my lifeline to her. A reminder she’s okay. She’s alive.
We were connected in that basement. We knew what to do. Rely on each other. Fight for each.
If I had lost her…
Hell, I wouldn’t have survived it.
“Fallon, c’mon,” Reese says, appearing with a bag of clothes. “Let’s get you changed.”
After casting a flat sideways glance at me, Fallon lets Ruby and Reese lead her down the hall to the bathroom.
“You want to take a statement,” Davis booms as he walks Richter to the door. Tonight, his scary marine voice is in full force. “Make a fucking appointment. My brother’s not in any shape to deal with an interrogation.”
My family’s closing ranks. It’s what they do best. Protect.
“Gonna be a long goddamn day,” Ford says, storming in from the hallway, a bottle of Jack in his hands even though it’s barely seven a.m.
“I need a drink,” I drawl.
“You have a concussion, dumbass,” Ford grumbles, pulling the whiskey bottle out of my reach.
Thankfully, it’s minor. More annoying are the three older brothers currently on guard right now. Still on alert, their expressions are hard and grim and they’re booming orders like it’s their business.
A good thing, too.
They’re the ones that sounded the alarms. That came looking for us before anyone.
They knew something was wrong the minute they saw my truck on the side of the road.
They were the ones who had come to Tripp’s house earlier, asking him to help search.
It was Charlie who saw my wedding ring on his finger and put two and two together.
Thank fuck for bossy older brothers.
“Then who’s it for?” I ask Ford.
“Me.” He takes a swig from the bottle then passes it to Charlie. “Christ, you took ten years off my life, kid,” he says, still rattled and pale.
“That’s why you have younger siblings,” I drawl. My head gives a twinge, and I hiss a breath.
A second later, there’s a big hand on my shoulder, strongarming me into a chair at the kitchen island.
“Kid, I will kill you myself,” Ford drawls, worry shining in his eyes. “Sit the hell down.”
“You hurtin’?” Charlie gruffs.
“Hell, I don’t feel great, man.” Breathing through the throb in my temple, I sit there and watch my hands shake.
“Give him a goddamn shot.”
I look up in amusement, in surprise, at Davis’s boom of a voice.
“Your hands,” Davis says, softer now. He slides a shot my way and I shoot it back. “It’ll steady ’em. Then you get some rest.”
I swallow through emotion. Grateful my brothers are here. To never let me down. And always have my back.
“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” Davis tells me. He palms my face, searches my eyes. “We won’t let you be any way else, you know that, right?”
“Thanks, man.” I don’t stop him when he pulls me in for a hug. One that Charlie and Ford each get in on.
When I pull away, my gaze finds Fallon in the kitchen. She’s dressed in soft gray joggers, a white tank top, and a long fuzzy pink duster that no doubt came from Ruby. Her fierce scowl tells me she’s enjoying none of the attention heaped on her by her sister.
I push off the island, reaching her side in three strides.
When our gazes lock, I instantly relax.
I breathe.
She’s okay.
Fallon smiles. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I pull her tighter against me, and the ache in my chest subsides.
She thins her lips. “Ugh, Dakota’s taking mother-henning to new levels.”
Dakota’s dark head pops up from the oven. “I heard that.”
“C’mon.” I take her hand. “Let’s sneak away while we can.”
With that, we push out the back door onto the deck. A soft sunrise steals over the mountains.
“Christ, they’re actual lunatics.” Fallon shudders, stealing a glance over her shoulder. The brisk wind whips her caramel hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re having a sleepover.”
I grin. “I think we’re stuck with them.”
Her face softens. “They’re not so bad.” On a sigh, she rests her head on my chest.
I close my eyes and pull her closer. “Trouble,” I rasp, holding her tight.
Her. Here. In my arms. There’s nothing better.
We stand there, holding each other, the world going on around us. This matters. Nothing else.
“Wyatt?” She lifts her face, turning those beautiful hazel eyes on me. “Are you okay?”
We haven’t been alone since they found us, so there’s been no time to talk about the nightmare that happened.
I drop my forehead to hers. “I will be.”
My answer’s honest. I’m still full of so much rage I don’t know where it will all go.
All I know is it’ll take a hell of a long time to erase the image of Tripp’s hands wrapped around Fallon’s throat.
Her mouth moves around the words, then she says, “What I said to Tripp, you know I didn’t—”
“I do.” I capture her tattooed fingers and bring them to my lips. “I hate that you had to do what you did.”
My heart had nearly bottomed out watching that.
It’s her turn to growl. “He had it coming.” Then she sobers, lacing her fingers through mine. “I heard that fortune teller telling me to swing, and I did.” Her lashes flutter, resting against the tan of her cheek. “I had to do it, Wyatt. I had to.”
I get what she means. Traumatic as it was, her fight with Tripp healed something in Fallon. Like she was fighting Aiden, Tripp, and herself all in one night.
I run a hand through her silky hair, grasp the back of her neck, and stare into her eyes. “You fought, baby.”
Fallon puts a hand on my cheek. “For you, I’d kill him a thousand times over.” Her gaze suddenly becomes silver. “I told you, I wouldn’t leave you again. I meant that.”
The fight, the love, in her eyes makes my throat tighten.
Fuck, I love her. Every damn day for the rest of my life.
My fierce, beautiful girl. I’ll never stop being in awe of her. Everything she’s done. How far she’s come. How much she fought.
She saved herself. She saved me.
We came fucking close. No mistake about that. And I will never, ever take her for granted. All that matters is her.
“I love you, Fallon.”
Her eyes soften and then flood with tears. “I love you, too.”
The fucking sweetest words I’ve ever heard.
With shaking hands, I cup her face and crush my lips to hers. I drink in her kiss, letting it seep through me. Letting it erase that fucked-up part of tonight that almost took her from me.
We separate with a gasp.
Fallon grabs the front of my shirt, yanks me against her. “I need you. Don’t let me go.”
“Never,” I rasp, holding her tight. The feeling’s mutual. After being separated from her, enduring the absolute fucking worst thing, I can’t let her go. I won’t.
We stand there in the silence of the morning, wrapped up in each other, watching the sun come up.
Fallon’s voice is muffled. “Wyatt?”
“What, baby?”
She looks up at me. “You think my nine lives are up?”
“Nah, Trouble.” Grinning, I sweep a kiss over her lips. “I think they’re just getting started.”