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Holding out my hand for her to take and leading her inside, I ignore the glare Tyson is giving me. I don’t give a fuck what his problem is right now. He's been wierd about me and Libby since he found out we got married. But he had ten years to shoot his shot with her, if that’s what he’s worried about. I’m here now, and she’s spoken for. Unless Libby herself tells me she wants this to stop, I’m here for the long haul.
Blake runs up to Tyson and wraps her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, but not before I see the tears pooling in her eyes.
“You good?” Tyson asks, hugging her back, but she just sniffles. “Alright, come on Slug, let's go sit down.”
I look at Libby, giving her my full attention. She’s standing straight now, shoulders back and a little more life in her eyes. I’m fairly certain it’s a mask, but if that’s what she needs to do for herself, then I’ll support it. But eventually those emotions are going to show their ugly head again.
Putting a finger under her chin, I tip her chin up toward me so I can get a better look at her. “You’re a strong woman, Elizabeth Clark.” It’s the damn truth. Anxiety is hard. Watching my sister struggle with it for years made me privy to the demons that go along with it. I know it can be all-consuming and trick you into believing some really dangerous things. But the girl in front of me just pulled herself away from what seemed to be a decent bout of anxiety and is now standing here like there was never an issue. Even if it’s a facade, it takes a massive amount of strength to not drown in it.
Her freckled face goes rosy. I can imagine how warm it would feel under my lips if I planted a kiss on her cheeks. Being worried about her state of mind almost keeps me from doing it, but fuck it, I want her to feel my love. Bending down to reach her, I brush my lips against her soft skin, making it burn brighter.
“I’m kind of a mess right now,” she says, looking at the floor.
I pull her chin even higher to regain her attention. “I like messy.” And I’m rewarded with the cutest damn smile I’ve ever seen.
She’s about to say something, but Tyson steps in. “How you doing, LB?” He walks right up and puts his arm around her shoulder. I’d love to break it, but the guy needs it for his career, so I’ll leave it alone for now.
“I’m ok.” Libby shrugs his arm off, stroking my ego slightly. She didn’t pull away from me when I touched her, but does to the guy who has been a steady person in her life for ten years. She's choosing my comfort over his.
“That’s good to hear.” He takes being shrugged off in stride. I wonder how often that happens to him. “Blake is pretty shaken up, so I’m going to crash on the couch. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. Even if it’s cuddles. I’m pretty great at anything that involves body contact.”
That’s enough of that. “Ty—”
“Ty, you’re fucking gross.” I’m cut off by Blake, who walks into the kitchen, face refreshed from how it looked minutes ago. “You’re not cuddling with my best friend. And stop flirting with her. I’ve told you that for years. I fucking hate it. Not that you care or anything.”
“Alright, alright. Ease up already. It’s just a joke.” Tyson puts his hands up in defense.
“Yeah, I know, a damn old one,” Blake scoffs. “But I don’t know that her husband knows that, given the look of wrath that’s on his face right now.”
All eyes land on me.
“You mad, bro?” Tyson cocks an eyebrow with a smug look on his face.
“Don’t touch her.” Clear, concise, no room for interpretation. I've never been a jealous person, but I'll be damned if he thinks he can just touch my girl whenever he wants.
His attention lingers on me for another beat, then he moves on. “Okay. Well, I’m getting some sleep. I have practice early tomorrow and need to wake up in time to get an Uber for that long of a drive.”
“I’ll take you home tomorrow,” I offer.
“You’re staying here tonight?”
“Am I staying with my wife?” He can’t be seriously questioning this.
“You two haven’t even moved in together yet, so how the hell am I supposed to know what the fuck is going on?”
I turn to Libby. She’s the only one that I need to have this conversation with. “I’m staying here until we get you to New Orleans.” Her eyes dance between mine as if she’s looking for a hidden meaning. Is that what she’s used to? Tyson with his supposed non serious flirting, Jett with his my way or the highway attitude?
“I’ll sleep on the floor if you need space, but I’m not going anywhere,” I say quietly so the others don’t hear, but apparently, it isn’t quiet enough.
“If bunking with Little Bird is on the table, then I want in on it,” Tyson says. And with that, my composure snaps.
“The only person sleeping in Libby’s bed, other than her, is me. You,” I point a finger in his direction. “Will not bunk with her, cuddle with her, or give the slightest fucking inkling of an inappropriate comment towards her. Do you understand?”
Tyson’s chin lifts a fraction, challenging me. “And who do you think you are, making these rules on her behalf?”
“Her fucking husband.” Tyson’s mouth snaps shut, and he crosses his arms. That’s what I thought.
I grab Libby’s hand and pull her into the hallway for some privacy. “It’s whatever you want, Libs. I can sleep on the floor, or I can hold you all night. It’s your decision.”
