Page 146 of Break Out the Girl

Soppy.

“Is the stain finished on your side, Sky?” I call across to her.

“Not yet, some of us like to take our time and be precise, rather than rush and leave blotches.”

Yikes, called out.

Sky isn’t going to school. She’s still officially a fugitive like the rest of us.

A familiar whistle cuts through all the hammering going on.

I turn to see Opal walking up the dirt path, her arms laden with a massive, overflowing stack of thick woolen blankets. Trailing a few paces behind her is Basil, looking uncharacteristically neat in a brand-new denim jacket, a heavy school rucksack slung over one shoulder.

Opal stops at the edge of the clearing, looking up at the high timber arches of the second cabin. “Nice work,” she calls out. “You’ve done a magnificent job, all of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Tally yells back, leaning at an angle that makes me nervous to give her a grin.

“Be careful now!” She drops the linens onto our picnic table, then claps her hands together. Putting down my brush, I walk over to give her and Basil a hug. “Thank you, for all this, but we’ve more than enough bedding in our cabin. You know what François is like—he just tells us to add whatever we need to the weekly delivery. And some of us,” I point at London, “may have gone overboard on goosedown.”

Opal gives me a mysterious smile, smoothing down the top blanket. “Well, here’s some more, just in case you’ll need them.”

Yikes. She doesn’t think I’m pregnant does she?

That's…

Not possible.

Kind of unfortunately.

No, I don’t want kids, but I do want to have sex with the three gorgeous men who have made it very, very clear that as soon as I give the green light, ravaging is going to happen.

But it just doesn’t feel right to be having sexy time with Sky sleeping next door. I can’t shake the feeling it could trigger her.

Not that I’m wishing Sky away, not in a million years. It’s just something we’ll have to figure out. But a few more weeks of my virginity isn’t really a big deal, not when it comes to my girl’s mental health.

My musings are cut off by Basil yelling like a maniac. Opal raises an eyebrow.

“I’m presuming he just found the new additions to our cabin,” I tell her. “London decided both a highwire and a rope swing were necessary. Apparently it’s a crime against high-ceilings if we don’t make the most of them.”

“IT’S DONE!” London yells from the rooftop.

Opal and I swivel our gazes just in time to see London run down the shingles then back flip onto the forest floor. Tally, sensibly, climbs down the ladder.

Coming over, Tally kisses his mom on the cheek, as London pulls me into a hug.

“Where’s François?” Tally asks me.

“Online, trying to decide on which kind of Italian marble the countertops need. I keep trying to persuade him that the pine ones are fine as they are.”

London suddenly pops a faun-ear. “Ooh, more visitors!”

Though we are more relaxed about strangers approaching these days, I still take Opal's hand and pull her into the shadows. London hoofs it back onto the roof, crouching low and ready to pounce.

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Opal asks me.

“Better safe than sorry.”

Then I hear it. A whining engine, coughing and struggling up the steep driveway. Within a beat, a battered, mud-splattered old pickup truck rounds the final bend, its engine rattling.