Page 208 of Split You Open

Santi’s annoyed huff blows hot air against my sensitive pussy and I shiver.

Throwing the covers off him, he declares in the most dramatic fashion, “Fine. But first, I should probably clean up my cum off the floor.”

“Why—no,” Wes shakes his head. “I don’t want to know what happened on the floor.”

With that, he turns and leaves.

Santi shoots me a wink over his shoulder. “I’ll have a heart-to-heart with you any time, cariño.”

Walking with a cane is a pain in the ass.

The bullet that tore through my leg did more damage than I thought and it looks like I’ll be stuck hobbling around for the foreseeable future. While the others don’t mind slowing their pace for me, it makes me feel weak.

It doesn’t help that no one but Dad will let me just walk most of the time to at least allow my other leg to stay strong. I’m always being carried.

Secretly, I love it.

Outwardly, I complain about the manhandling.

I don’t think I’m fooling anyone, though.

Right now, I’ve managed to convince Santi and Wes into not carrying me through the throng of people attending the Caddawalk Fall Festival. While they weren’t happy about it, they conceded. But they’re sticking close. Wes’s hand grips the back of my neck in a possessive hold as he walks slightly behind me, blocking the throng of people from bumping into me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wes asks anxiously. “There’s always next year.”

“Yes, I’m sure, Wes.” I hold back a frustrated sigh. “Can we, ah, move just a little slower, though?”

I really don’t want to admit that this was a bad idea and that every step hurts. One, because my pride won’t allow it. But second, because I know the guys, all except for Santi, will need to rub it in my face and say “I told you so”. I wanted to come out and experience the Caddawalk Fall Festival with everyone and I threw a fit in order to get my way.

There’s no backing out of this now without having to deal with my wounded pride.

Wes slows his pace, which was already at glacial speeds.

Santi squeezes my hand but his eyes are bouncing around from one booth to another like a ping pong ball.

“What do you want to do first? Want some maple syrup cotton candy? Or apple fritters? There’s a booth that sells these cool wooden animals some guy makes out of tree stumps and chainsaws—I’ve always wanted one. We should check that place out too.” He tries to pull me toward a table full of crafts but the movement is too sharp and I hiss in pain.

“Santi!” Wes snarls. “Pay attention.”

“Oops, sorry, cariño. Are you alright?”

I nod as I force back a wince. “Take me to see all of it and I want a bite of everything.”

The festival is a blast despite how slowly I have to meander through it. Having never been to one of these before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The smells, the sounds, the activities—it's all overwhelming but in the best way possible. I don’t know where to look or what to do first.

Luckily, Santi is happy to decide for the three of us. We stop at booths and tables full of fun crafts and knickknacks. Santi literally buys one of everything when it comes to food. I’m both sick from the sweets and jittery from the sugar by the time we stop at the Gnarly Pines booth.

Ledger and Rhett have been here for a few hours, watching over their employees as they manage the large crowd waiting their turn to throw axes at the makeshift targets. As the three of us approach, I drink in the sight of Ledger and Rhett. Both are chatting with people in line. Behind the table where the people of Caddawalk are coming to sign up to throw axes, is Colly—Rhett’s assistant manager—and a few other Gnarly Pine employees. They’re loud as they call people over, encourage the throwers to adjust their stance, and cheer wildly as someone hits the target.

Looks like axe throwing is a big hit.

I tug on Wes’s shirt. When he bends down, I whisper into his ear, “Should we be concerned that they’re throwing around the same axes we’ve tried murdering people with?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” he answers as he tries, and fails, to hide an amused smile.

Ledger notices our approach first and immediately slips away from the line to join us. His brows creep together as he stops in front of me.

“You’re doing okay?” he asks gruffly.