Page 67 of Give Me Peace

“What? Of course not. We’ve limited our workload for the time being, and even if we were needed in the field, at least three of us would stay behind.” I exhale, a wave of guilt washing over me for taking up so much of their time. “We’d never leave you here alone, baby girl. Never.” I lean in, dropping my head to his chest.

“There’s always a chance something could go wrong, and if that ever happens, you’ll at least have a way to defend yourself. That’s my only motivation, Saylor. The thought of you cornered and helpless…” Roan trails off, a pained grimace twisting his face. “I can’t imagine anything worse.” As his reasoning resonates, I think of how weak I felt for five years. Reliant on the mercy of a madman. I never want to feel that way again. Brute force won’t get me anywhere, but a bullet might.

“Can we go again?” I step back and straighten my shoulders.

Roan chuckles, a proud grin stretched across his face. “That’s my girl.”

I blush, clearing my throat as he turns us back around and hands me the gun. For the next thirty minutes, I aim and shoot, barely making contact with the target. Eventually, my arms get tired and we decide to call it quits for the day. Roan holds out the tattered practice sheet like a proud parent admiring their kindergartner’s barely decipherable finger painting. His eyes light up, eyebrows wagging playfully.

“I’m so proud of you.” Roan wraps me in his arms, plucking me off my feet as he spins us around. I laugh, closing my eyes to ward off the dizziness.

“It looks like I was aiming for the wall, but accidentally got the paper a few times.” I snort, scanning my work and finding it severely lacking. One corner in particular took a beating.

“Better than Kash when he was first learning.” Roan jokes, handing me the paper. We work in tandem to get everything back in its proper place, but the gun is left on a table inside the arms room.

“It needs to be cleaned,” Roan explains. “I’ll get to it later. Gives me something to do when I can’t sleep.” Hand in hand, we head out. At the base of the steps, Roans turns and squats. “Hop on.” Not one to pass up a free piggyback ride, I grin and twine my arms and legs around him. He shoulders the door open, nearly running into Kash as we stumble from the stairwell.

“Best Friend thief!” Kash growls, reaching out to pull me away. Roan spins us, darting around the dining table until it’s between the two of them. I laugh, swinging my legs as we turn toward the kitchen. Roan snags one and playfully bites my toe. I squeal and squirm, giggling uncontrollably at the ticklish feeling.

“Love these little toes.” He gently kisses the inside of my ankle, turning me to goo. I practically melt against him. If the slight shake of his shoulders is any indication, my reaction doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Look!” I wave my practice target at Kash. “If you ever need me as backup…you’re totally screwed.” I grin, handing him the sheet so he can get a closer look.

Kash nods, trying to play up my utter lack of skill because he’s nice like that. “It’s…something, sweetness.” A snort sounds behind me, so I tug Roan’s left ear like a blinker. He shakes his head in exasperation but obliges my request.

“Don’t fill that pretty head of hers with fake compliments. That,” Havok points to my paper, “was an absolute pointless massacre of a good tree. Say Baby, I think you’re directionally challenged.” He smirks, that infuriating look of smugness shining in his icy blue eyes.

Butthole.

“Is that right?” I ask him sweetly, snagging a half-empty bottle of water from the counter. Without warning, I send it flying, clapping my hands when it hits him square in the forehead.

“Ow, you little shit,” Havok growls, his smile growing devilish as he starts for us. I claw my way up Roan’s back, yelling for him to run, but we’re backed into the kitchen with nowhere to go. My butt meets the island as an idea begins to form, but I refuse to take my eyes off of Havok. Without giving myself a chance to second guess it, I shove away from Roan and slide across the marble, spinning so I can hop off on the other side. I land and bolt, giggling as I round the couch and scan the room.

Havok prowls closer, his steps sure and precise. No matter which way I attempt to go, he cuts me off. Again. A tiny opening is all I need to make a run for it. I huff, brushing loose pieces of hair from my face. My ponytail is barely hanging on at this point. The garage door opens, stealing our attention. Lochlan walks in with a stack of pizzas, his steps slowing as he takes in the stand-off happening in the living room. My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, making us all laugh. With Havok distracted, I take a chance and attempt to skirt around him.

Just when I think I’m in the clear, his arm snakes out and bands around my waist, tossing me over his shoulder. I grunt, my hands landing on his back as I push myself upright. This position is becoming way too commonplace for my liking. Havok heads toward Lochlan and snags a box of pizza. I poke my lip out, hoping their designated leader will take pity on me and put the menace carting me around like a sack of potatoes in time-out.

“Sorry, love. He caught you fair and square.” Lochlan winks, leaving me sputtering as Havok strides away.

“This isn’t Win-A-Saylor! I’m not a carnival prize!” I screech as we turn the corner, the guys’ laughter following us until Havok kicks my door closed. I swallow, realizing this is the moment I’ve been dreading. He’s got me all alone, and I doubt I’ll be leaving anytime soon.

Certainly not with my dignity intact.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Havok

Saylor stiffens the second I have her to myself. She’s been avoiding me since breakfast yesterday, and it’s high time we rectify that. I’m not so much of an asshole that I can’t understand her embarrassment. The thing is, she has no fucking reason to feel that way around me. We’ve been through too much for petty shit like insecurities to stand between us. Doesn’t mean I won’t approach the subject delicately. For her. Can’t say I’ve ever cared about a woman’s feelings before. Say’s not just anyone, though. Never has been.

I toss her on the bed and drop the pizza between us. I can feel the tension wafting off of her, but I stay silent. I know she’s waiting for me to address the hundred-ton elephant prancing around in a neon string bikini, but it can wait. Right now, I want back that easiness we’ve grown into. I need Saylor to know she’s safe with me, that I’ll never hurt or betray her the way I did when we were kids.

And maybe that’s why she’s so on guard right now. Because she, of all people, knows how cruel I can be. The possibility of her thinking I’m still capable of doing something like that stings like a bitch. It’s warranted, though. I put Saylor through some awful shit back in the day. The fact she can even look me in the eye is a goddamn miracle. I pull her laptop over and scroll through a few movies, deciding to go with something light and funny. Hopefully, it’ll bring the mood up and she’ll relax.

We tuck in and start eating, but Saylor never loses that rigidness stringing her tight. When she’s made it clear she’s full, I toss the box to the floor and resituate my pillows. By the time the movie ends, I think she’s even more worked up. I sigh, running my hands though my hair. My frustration isn’t aimed at her, but myself. I’ve clearly gone about this all wrong, and now I’m wondering if I’ve taken us several steps backwards from all the progress we’ve made. I know she’s attracted to me. I had her pressed against my fucking car, for Christ’s sake. Felt the uptick in her pulse.

Was that response to me, or stimulation in general? I felt pretty confident at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Is she feeling pressured or rushed? I need to know. I can’t sit here in silence in hopes she’ll come around. Knowing Saylor, she never will.

“We’ve gotta talk about this, Say. My head’s taking me to some pretty dark places and I need to know if I’ve pushed you for too much.” I turn, watching her for any sign of regret, but she just stares at me in confusion. “Unless I’ve seriously misjudged the signs, there’s something here. Attraction, at the least. So, what is this? What’s this mean?” I pull the list from my pocket, the crumpled piece of paper looking ragged. I can’t count how many times I’ve read those three words since yesterday morning.