Page 163 of Split You Open

And fear.

I shoot up a prayer into the universe that Dad doesn’t shoot Wes right here.

“Anyway, I just wanted to come out and let you know breakfast will be ready in about five minutes,” Wes continues with ease. He leans down and, instinctually, I tilt my head up to accept his kiss.

When our lips meet, I melt.

I hum happily as he pulls away, a warm smile clinging to his lips.

“See you inside,” he tells me.

I don’t miss the warning glance he shoots my father, but he leaves us alone to finish our conversation.

“What the hell is going on under this roof?” Dad demands the second the back door clicks shut. “Baby girl? Cariño? What is this nonsense?”

How am I supposed to explain my situation with the guys when I barely understand it myself? To give myself some time, I sip my coffee and turn back to stare at the empty firepit several yards away.

“Well…” I hedge. “Here’s the thing. Everyone under this roof is… ah,” I wince. “I’m with them.”

“With them?”

My face flames hot with embarrassment. “Yeah.”

Dad pauses then he has the nerve to let out a gasp. “Blair! Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with all of them?”

Oh, I so wish that I wasn’t having this conversation with my dad.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls himself up to his full height. Grimacing, I force myself to face him.

“Look, I understand you’re a woman with… needs,” he winces at the word. “But you’re still my daughter and I’ll be damned if I let you get gang banged by a bunch of men with questionable morals.”

I roll my eyes. “You hired a male prostitute to show me that sex wasn’t bad when I was sixteen years old. I think ‘gang bangs’ was just the next step from there.”

To be fair, Dad was trying to help me.

For whatever reason, I was having horrible nightmares of the things Uncle Al and his friends had done to me during that early period of my life. I guess the trauma had eventually caught up to me after years of ignoring it. Dad had hired Sweet Boy to show me that sex didn’t always have to be bad.

That had to have been the most embarrassing moment of my life.

Dad had been watching from the corner of our hotel room with a gun pointed at Sweet Boy’s head in case he hurt me while I laid on the bed completely and utterly mortified at being naked and vulnerable like that in front of him.

At least the nightmares stopped after that… So I guess I can say it worked.

“I can’t believe this,” Dad hisses as his body tenses. “You’ve let yourself be blinded by lust.”

I suck my teeth. “It’s not lust.”

Though… It's hard not to feel that way around four extremely hot lumberjacks.

Dad scoffs. “Call it whatever the hell you want—it’s a death sentence all the same.”

“Look, Dad.” I suck in a deep breath and allow myself to be as honest as I can with him. “I don’t fit in most places. But with them? I feel like I’m right where I belong. I want this. I want them. I love all four men inside. When this is all over with, I hope you’ll do me the courtesy of trying to actually get to know them. Not just pull up their backgrounds and determine their worth that way.”

Asking Dad to get to know anyone is a big ask. Asking him to get to know my—boyfriends? Lovers? Whatever they are—is the holy grail of asks. One that I know will probably be shot down immediately.

“It’s dangerous to have so many attachments,” Dad warns with a dark scowl. “They’ll hurt you.”

“You’re overreacting,” I point out. “I trust them.”