Blythe pushes the brake pedal to the floorboard, thinking something is wrong with me at first, but she laughs when she realizes. I push open the passenger door and don’t even bother closing it behind me.
Everything hurts, but I don’t care. I run anyway.
The world around me turns into a blur and I fight to hold back tears so that I can see where I’m going. Thankfully we weren’t far apart and I made it without tripping and falling flat on my face.
Within seconds, our bodies collide. He plants his feet in the dirt, skidding to a stop as I launch myself into his arms and slam right into his chest. My legs wrap around him. His arms circle my hips and the back of my head, cradling me with his signature blend of tenderness and rough possession.
I’m smiling into his neck, but I’d rather look at him, so I try and pull my face away. His hand around the back of my head holds strong, keeping me in place.
“Don’t move. Not yet,” he says.
I squeeze his neck hard enough that it could choke him and he laughs. It’s a strained sound, but it’s one I’ve been dying tohear. It can’t erase what happened, but it soothes every part of me that’s hurting.
I’m so happy to be in his arms that I almost miss it, but he starts swaying back and forth slightly like he’s feeling dizzy. I remember what Blythe had said to me on the phone about him having a mild concussion and quickly unwrap my legs, forcing him to set me down on the ground in front of him.
His hands move up to cup either side of my face while he leans down to press his forehead against mine. It’s as if every part of me that has been locked up for so long, sealed tight and stored away for my own protection, officially opened up in that moment. I released a heavy breath and let go of every inhibition with it.
Something about being faced with the possibility of never speaking to someone again, then getting the chance after all changes you. You stop caring about the repercussions or what they might say back.
I open my mouth to give life to the words on the tip of my tongue, but Tripp’s voice fills the space around us instead.
“Super fucking cute, guys. But can we all go inside now? Y’all both look like you’re about to fall flat on your asses.”
“You brought a gun with you?!” Blythe gasps as she spins to face Gage. They’re both standing next to the sink as the guys fill us in on what went down last night.
I’m sitting on the end of the couch in the bunkhouse living room while Warren lays his body across the cushions next to me. His head is in my lap and I mindlessly run my fingers throughhis hair. His eyes are closed, but I know he’s awake and listening to the conversation.
“What do you think?” Gage looks at her like she should know better than to assume he wouldn’t be packing.
I giggle and see a smile turn up the corners of Warren’s mouth too.
I thought if I ever made it out, I’d be an inconsolable mess of tears. Instead, it’s peace that I feel. And hearing about the events of last night isn’t ripping through me like a knife or striking me with fear like I’d expected them to. It helps to know that Emma is in custody and that Warren has so far refused to let me go untouched for even a second of time. I’m safe here. I’m with my people.
I wasn’t happy about the fact that Heston had to tackle Warren to the ground when Emma shot at him for telling her that she needed to get help and that the cops were going to take her in and get her into treatment. They didn’t know she’d kidnapped me at that point or that the drug problem was just the tip of the iceberg. According to Warren though, he knew in his bones that she had something to do with me being gone and they chased her down hoping it’d help them find me.
I shudder at the thought of Warren being shot at and then hitting his head hard enough when he and Heston crashed to the ground that he needed medical attention. I push my hand through his hair, study his chest rising and falling, and memorize the weight of him in my lap to push away that vision.
Blythe rolls her eyes at Gage, lets out a long sigh, and goes back to peeling the potato in her hand over the colander in the sink.
“It was just in case. I didn’t shoot anyone this time, honey,” Gage says with a kiss on her cheek. “I did pull it out and almost popped her when she tried bolting from the cops though,” he chuckles.
“Thistime?” I ask with a shocked look on my face.
Heston and Tripp are each sitting in a recliner on either side of the couch and make eye contact with their lips rolled into their mouths like they’re trying not to laugh.
The room is silent for a minute but then Tripp and Gage burst out in laughter.
“It’s not funny,” Blythe says without looking up.
Warren covers his face with his hand and I begin to realize I’m the only one who has no idea what they’re talking about.
“Long story,” Warren looks up at me and says with a sigh.
Tripp stands and heads to the fridge for a beer. Walking back to the living room, he stops next to me, and tiny splashes of liquid spray from his hand as he pops the top of the can. Holding it in the air, he turns in my direction. “All you need to know, Sav, is that around here? Not a single bitch has ever fucked around and not found out.”
With a wink, he chugs half of the beer and sits back down. The rest of the room is laughing, and I can’t help but smile. Sure, I’ve learned they’re a little deranged at times. But I’ve grown to love them all just the same.
While expectations follow me everywhere else that I go, the bunkhouse iscome as you are. It’s turned into a safe haven for me, and there’s nowhere else that I’d rather be.
