Page 167 of Reckless Vengeance

“I should have pushed him away faster. It’s my fault. He was the drunk emotional one, I was⁠—”

“Don’t do that. He’s a twenty-five-year-old grown man.”

“Did I give off the wrong signals?”

“D wouldn’t know someone was flirting with him even if it smacked him in the face. He was drunk, emotional, and he’s lonely. He made a move that he wouldn’t have had the balls to do sober, that’s all, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s more angry at himself for waving his gun at you,” he said dryly.

“We need to talk about it though. Clear the air.”

“Let him figure it all out first.”

“What if he actually likes me?” I asked, eyeing him. “You going to beat him up for it?”

“I’ll deal with it if that happens. It’s highly likely he’s just gotten his emotions confused,” he shrugged, and I rolled my eyes.

“And if he hasn’t? What if he called you right now and said he has feelings for me?”

“Then I’d call him a pussy for telling me over the phone, track him down, and punch him,” he snorted.

“I’d feel better if he came tomorrow.”

“That’s the problem, he wouldn’t. I know you’ve got the right intentions, but Diesel’s complicated. If you push, it could cause him to spiral. It might have been twelve years since he got high, but the temptation never goes away. He’s always one bad day away from shoving a needle in his arm. You’d never forgive yourself if you pushed him to that point, and watching him get sober the first time was fucking hard enough. I promise he will talk, just in his own time,” he murmured, leaning over to give me a kiss. “Are you still too sore for me to rail you? I’m starting to feel like I’ll die if I don’t get to shove my cock in your tight little cunt.”

“Skeeter Maddox,” Josie scolded as she walked back in, apparently hearing our conversation.

“I’m a man with needs and a terrible addiction, Josie,” he sighed, leaning back and draining his coffee cup.

“You will not talk like that in my kitchen,” she tsked, shooing at us. “Go and watch Christmas movies with the boys or something.”

“Ugh, pass,” I grumbled, getting to my feet. “I might go and watch something else though. Coming, Skeet?”

“Apparently, I’m not allowed to come,” he muttered under his breath as he followed, finding the guys in the theater with the Xbox on the massive screen. His mood soured slightly when he noticed Tyler was gaming online with Marco, but he dropped down on one of the couches and eased me onto his lap.

The guys all took turns playing, minus Skeeter, and I had a little nap once I was comfortable.

I dreamed of the crash like always, the fear fading every time Slash showed up to save me. Sometimes he was in the car with me when I crashed, his face covered in blood when I woke up to find him dead beside me.

I woke with a scream when the dream turned into one of those where Slash died, and it took a minute for me to take in the scent of Skeeter, the feeling of his arms around me as he gently stroked my hair.

I was shaking, my cheeks wet with tears as his voice reached me.

“I’ve got you.”

“Slash—”

“I know, baby,” he mumbled, keeping me close until I’d calmed down enough to pull away myself.

Lukas appeared with a glass of water, squatting in front of us to offer it to me. My hands shook, and he insisted on holding the glass so I could take a sip.

This had been happening a lot lately. The nightmares jolting me from sleep and causing nausea to swim through me.

At least my body didn’t hurt so badly now because the first few times were painful.

The guys stopped fussing once I was sitting up and my breathing had slowed, and thankfully, dinner was ready so I could get out of the awkward silence.

We sat around the dining table as Karl served the best Greek-style chicken and salad that I’d ever had, then Josie told him to go home to his family and we’d clean up when we were done.

Surprisingly, Lukas and Jensen jumped at the chance to help Josie clean up when we were finished, and I was already asleep in the theater room between Skeeter and Tyler by the time they were done.