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Paris was telling Wyatt this was how Alister handled stress. The message was received. Having someone around him at all times and his need to get his car weren’t Alister’s real issues.
It was the inability to cope with what Sloane had done.
Wyatt crossed the room and eased Alister out of Paris’s hold then enveloped his mate in his arms.
If Paris has trouble coping, you become his fucking rock. He won’t be able to get past this if you can’t be what he needs you to be.
That had been what he’d said to Cannon when Paris fought Negan and killed the guy. Wyatt needed to take his own damn advice.
Chapter Five
Alister didn’t do anything without dazzling flare. Not even going batshit crazy. That hadn’t been his intention, but Sloane had sold him to some deviant piece of shit. Alister had every right to flip his lid. He just didn’t have the right to take it out on his mate.
“I’m okay.” He withdrew from Wyatt’s embrace and inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. He shook off his distress and chased away the fear that wanted to send him spiraling once more. “I plead temporary insanity.”
All three men eyed Alister as if he’d go haywire again at any second.
“Stop staring at me like I’m an exotic attraction at a zoo,” Alister sassed. “Like none of you hasn’t had a meltdown before.”
“Don’t you dare wind back up again.” Wyatt flashed a devastatingly handsome smile. “That spanking is still on the table.”
“That’s not an image I want in my head.” Paris made a gagging noise.
“Stop throwing shade, bitch.” Though the image was now stuck in Alister’s head. He had been shocked when Wyatt popped him on the tush—not because he’d been insulted but because it had turned him on.
In the past forty years no one had ever done that to Alister, and now he wanted to act like a brat just so Wyatt would do it again. Naked, of course.
“I think I need an ice cream to help me scrub that from my mind,” Paris said. “I’m hijacking you and Wyatt to come with us.” He headed for the door. “The day is hot enough to warrant a cold treat.”
“You’re determined to wreck my figure,” Alister complained as he followed his bestie. “Wyatt’s going to kick me out of bed if I gain twenty pounds.”
“Not in his lifetime,” Wyatt replied as he and Cannon trailed behind them. “I’ll just have to give you a vigorous workout, butterfly.”
“Oh, that’s so cute!” Paris chuckled. “That fits Alister perfectly. He’s beautiful and flighty.”
The first time his mate had called him the endearment was when they were in his apartment and Alister was having a hard time coping with Negan’s brutal attack. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
“First we have to stop by the bakery to get my car,” Alister reminded Wyatt when they were outside. “I also want to check on Kayla. After what happened, she probably never wants to see us again, but I want to make sure she’s okay.”
Alister wouldn’t blame her one bit if she told him he was no longer welcome in Sweet Spot. It would suck, though. Their baked goods were simply amazing and worth gaining a pound or ten.
“Even though Paris gave a detailed account of what happened at the bakery, Sheriff Harper still wants to talk to Alister,” Cannon said to Wyatt.
“Not until I’ve had my ice cream.” Alister headed to Wyatt’s blue Charger. “My mental health needs pampering first.”
Maybe he would suffer brain freeze and forget all about earlier. Had it really been only a few hours since he’d fought Sloane? It’d been mid-morning when Alister picked up his car and driven happily to the bakery.
After he dropped into the passenger seat and Wyatt started his car, Alister rolled his window down. The inside of the car felt like he’d just plopped his butt into an oven.
“If I’d known we would be going into town, I would have started the car sooner to cool it off.” Wyatt reversed from the driveway after Cannon backed out and drove away. “I’m sorry I was thickheaded.”
Even with the windows down, the car was still hot. Alister turned on the AC and adjusted the setting so the cold air would blow from the vent and right at his face. “I don’t follow.”
“Paris had you figured out in five seconds flat.” Wyatt scratched at his beard in a frustrated manner. “I get it. You two have known each other for a long while.”
“Forty years.”
“Right.” Wyatt nodded, dropped his hand, blew out a breath, and turned a corner. “I still should have realized what was going on with you.” He hit his palm gently on the steering wheel. “I’m a deputy. I deal with traumatized people. Instead, I throw you over my shoulder and slap your ass.” Wyatt shook his head like he was disgusted with himself.
