Figures.
Justin is meticulous.
“Laverne,” Maxx says, her name an annoyed hiss on his tongue. “Fuck. Why? She didn’t exactly offer much support when you were missing.”
“She claims that Tess didn’t want her over here,” Parrish remarks, his voice dry and caustic. “I’m sure that’s true—they don’t get along particularly well—but I also don’t feel like she tried hard enough. I’ve never really been sure if she loves me or if I’m just the heir to her throne.”
“I hear she hired a private security firm to track you down,” Maxx continues as I snuggle into Parrish’s hoodie, and he keeps me tucked close to him. The sound of his heart beating is like a soothing metronome against the side of my face. “But that didn’t yield any results. Doesn’t that seem odd? You were, like, right fucking here. Just down the goddamn road.” X sounds supremely annoyed. If I think too hard about it, I get infuriated.
“It seems like something we should pay attention to,” Parrish agrees, and I sit up slightly. He makes an annoyed sound, but then we both hear footsteps and groan, drawing apart from one another in time for Tess to show up.
She’s fucking relentless.
“Are you guys getting ready for bed?” she asks, and Parrish tosses her a vexing look.
“Really? I’ve never had a bedtime before.”
“Don’t you start with me,” she says, but she’s smiling while she says it, so it loses any impact. “You’ve been through a lot, and we have a doctor’s appointment early in the morning.”
Parrish groans and tears his hoodie off, making my mouth water when his taut belly and tatted arms come into view. Even the bandages wrapping his chest are hot. I turn away. No mammal brain, no. Stop it. What is wrong with me? Old Dakota would’ve scoffed and pitied this new girl. Love sucks. Having your lover almost die sucks even more; I can’t seem to help myself.
Tess’ gaze swings over to me. I can tell she wants to ask if I’ll be staying in my own bed tonight, but then she must decide how heartless that sounds and bites her tongue. I can see it in the pinching of her cheeks.
“I’ll wake you in the morning,” Tess says finally, having regained some of her composure. “Good night boys, Dakota. I love you—all of you.” She points at Maxx, at the bathroom door where Chasm’s just emerged, me, Parrish. “Sleep well.”
“Love you, too, Tess,” Chasm calls out cheerfully, and she tosses a wave over her shoulder. “Damn, she’s in a good mood,” he murmurs, hair wet, droplets of warm water snaking down his gorgeous body, a towel thrown around his neck.
I drag my gaze away and kick the covers down to climb in.
“Regardless, I want to be asleep or at least pretending to be asleep when she comes back; she doesn’t like me in here.”
“It’s not appropriate,” Parrish says with a slight smirk. “You and your stepbrother and his idiot friends all sharing a room.”
“Oh, we’re idiots now?” Maxx suggests, settling down on his bed on the floor. “After we saved your ass? I see how it is. Next time, you can stay with the serial killer. To be fair, with your smart mouth, he was probably getting close to chucking you out and saying to hell with it all.”
Parrish snorts, and I laugh while Chasm grins.
We should maybe take things more seriously, but it feels so good to have him home, like the group is complete. Maxine is never far from my mind, but as long as I know she’s still safe, and that she isn’t suffering, I can’t obsess. I have to study, and in order to do that, I have to take some small breaks, or I’ll collapse.
The last few weeks have sapped all of my usual reserves.
“She probably thinks it’s weird that we’re getting along all of a sudden,” I say with a shrug. “We were never exactly friends before. Sort of … enemies and then lovers.”
“Enemies-to-lovers,” Parrish agrees, “a quality trope.” He leans over the edge of the bed and withdraws something from the cabinet portion of his nightstand. When he returns to a seated position, I see what it is, and I balk.
“Why do you still have that?” I whisper as I try—and fail—to snatch the paperback book from his hands. It’s titled Stepbrother Inked, and it’s a dirty-ass romance novel that I somehow, maybe chucked at Parrish’s head. I didn’t think he’d keep it though.
“It looked interesting. That, and weirdly apropos.” Parrish clears his throat as he turns the book over, using his left hand to keep me at arm’s length so I can’t snatch it from him. “He's a tattoo artist, the love of my life, the man of my dreams. But he’s also my stepbrother.” Parrish tosses me a cocky look, and I grit my teeth at him.
