by M. Sinclair
Instead, I found it sort of sexy… like they’d bathed me in the blood of my enemies. Sorry, not sorry, but I found that attractive. However, that did lead me to the question of how I had gotten here… did King carry me back? I had to assume so, although based on the note next to my bed, I think it may have also been Yates.
Stay in bed and sleep today, bunny. - Yates.
So bossy.
That was now one hundred percent the last thing I wanted to do. Honestly, the man should know me better than that by now… then again, he was smart enough to realize I would never miss a rugby match for the twins. As I went to go text him, I frowned, realizing my phone had just died, so I plugged it in, trying to remember the last time I’d charged it. I tried to use it as little as possible so I could be honest in saying I often forgot.
Stumbling towards my bathroom, I scowled at the stunning room and bright sunlight that was filling the space. Shimmying out of my skirt and yanking off my halter top, I turned on the steam shower and let out a groan of relief as I stepped into the hot jets. My eyes closed as I tried to not dive down the mental rabbit hole of sorting through everything that had happened yesterday, from Abby threatening me to the boys nearly killing Greg. What a hot mess.
Hopefully I could find a small break today. I just wanted to enjoy watching the twins play sexy rugby and maybe have a movie night later. Easy peasy.
Despite everything going on, a weird sense of authentic happiness and excitement ran through me, which I knew largely had to do with my guys. Something seemed different, and not just the twins kissing me, although that had been amazing. My tongue darted out before I frowned, realizing that both Lincoln and Sterling’s tastes were gone from my lips… any chance I could get a kiss at the match? From both of them? Talk about drama.
After a long, soothing shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and dried off completely before braiding my hair into two long french braids. I kept my makeup simple, only shading my eyebrows lightly and swiping lip gloss over my slightly chapped lips before going to get dressed. My eyes moved towards my scale momentarily before I fought off the urge to weigh myself, knowing that the alcohol I had last night would probably just psych me out and give me an inaccurate and panic-inducing weight. I refused to let today be about that.
As I sorted through my clothing, the sound of rain started up, a light patter that had me looking at the gray skies. It didn’t look like it would storm, but I decided to pick a pair of leggings and an oversized heavyweight rugby jersey with the twins’ last name on it. The colors, a black and bright red, stood out against my flushed face and I slipped on a pair of dark red Hunter boots before making my way downstairs.
I knew I was up far too early to head to the game, but I wasn’t surprised to find that my parents were absent from the house. They had probably gone to church this morning.
They had never insisted that I go with them once I had gotten older, but I still felt a bit guilty about missing. I wasn’t a spiritual person, generally. I just did my best to be a good human and compassionate towards others. Honestly, I just didn’t feel like I knew enough to decide on one religion, so I had taken an interest in most of them.
Outside of photography, it was actually one of my favorite things to learn about. World religions, and more specifically, the places they are practiced. What I wouldn’t give to go around the world, photographing famous religious buildings and monuments. I mean, could you imagine standing in Myanmar, staring up at the Laykyun Setkyar? Taking pictures of the intense detail and labor that went into creating such a massive depiction of Buddha? Or traveling to Rio de Janeiro and standing witness to the thirty-eight meter tall Christ the Redeemer? I knew not everyone had the opportunity to travel, and I craved to be the one to capture those outstanding moments so that everyone could experience that level of awe.
I just had no idea where to start. Why would anyone choose to look at my photos? Hell, I wasn’t even positive that I could capture them correctly. I swallowed uncomfortably, feeling my sense of joy being strangled out by the notion of not being good enough. It was like a constant beat underneath my skin. One that I was really growing tired of.
Humming to myself, I made a cup of coffee before stepping out onto the porch to look over Wildberry Lane, the silence of Sunday seeming to coat the entire place in a hazy sleepiness.
Some weekend mornings, I would find the twins playing basketball in their driveway, but today it was silent, making me wonder if they had an early morning warm-up practice before the match. Instead of going to grab my phone or Kindle, I sat down on the porch and took a moment to just relax. I didn’t get very many quiet moments, and while I would prefer them to be filled with my boys, there was something nice about just taking a moment like this to breathe.
Except, as I slowly drained my coffee and the lights flickered on in my brain, I found myself overthinking what had happened this weekend. What would the others think if they found out I’d kissed the twins? Or how Stratton had admitted to being attracted to me? I let out a slow exhale as I tried to shake the feeling of being overwhelmed.
My lip dipped slightly, wondering if I was more invested in all of this compared to them. It wasn’t like Lincoln or Sterling had confessed an inkling of emotion towards me, not the kind I had for them. So for all I knew, maybe they were just wanting to get laid, and while that sounded appealing, I just didn’t think I could do that and walk away without a broken heart. I had never imagined losing my V-card to a specific one of the guys, more like all of them… but it had always been with one of them.
My throat tightened, wondering who they had slept with. There was no way men like them were virgins—I mean, they were freaking stunning. That just didn’t make sense. All too soon, as I was finishing my cup of coffee, my parents’ sleek BMW pulled into our driveway and parked out front. I steeled my emotions, not wanting them to see that I was somewhat upset by my train of thought. Plus, while I had never told my mom directly, I had a feeling that she was well aware of my feelings regarding the guys.
I mean… I wasn’t exactly fantastic at keeping my emotions under wraps. I had absolutely no idea what I would do if she ever confronted me about them, though.
Standing up, I arched a brow as my father began to unload a ton of bags from the car and bring them towards the dry porch. Clearly they hadn’t been at church. My mom offered me a winning smile as I asked, “Where the heck did you guys go?”
“Shopping for our trip,” she sang and I laughed, my dad offering me that look. The one that had me realizing that not only were these bags filled with new things that had nothing to do with their couples trip, but that there were more on the way. I knew my father could have had it all shipped and white glove delivered, so I found it sweet he still wanted to carry stuff for my mom.
She was totally using this trip as an excuse to change out her wardrobe for the season. Not that she needed a reason! My dad would hand her diamonds on a plate every single day if that’s what she wanted. Honestly, their relationship was pretty adorable. Unfortunately, it made me a bit bummed out, considering the internal thoughts that had been plaguing me all morning.
“Honey,” my mom said when coming back outside after dropping her purse. “Can you do me a huge favor? Can you run to the grocery store and grab me some of the ingredients to make lemon blueberry pound cake? I forgot to grab them earlier this week, and the Gateses are coming over for dinner. Trinity and I are going to plan some fun excursions for Naples.”
And drink wine. Lots of wine.
Honestly, I found it hilarious that while they could have hired a travel agent, they decided to do it on their own because they found it ‘fun’ rather than stressful.
“Sure.” I let out a yawn, carrying my cup inside. My mom rarely asked me to do stuff, plus I could pick up something to drink for while I was sitting at the game in a few hours. Maybe hot chocolate? It wasn’t cold, but it was rainy. I felt like that could work.
I grabbed my purse before making my way towards the ca
r, not needing a list because this was literally one of my mom’s signature recipes. She also almost always forgot to pick up the ingredients while grocery shopping. Seriously, my dad had to run out almost weekly. As I slipped into my car, I frowned, realizing I’d left my phone upstairs but decided that I probably didn’t need it.
I mean, who was going to text me? Anyone important knew where I lived.
Maybe I needed to get a new phone. I had considered that, but after everything that had happened, I was hesitant to do so because I felt like it would be pretty obvious that something was still going on. So I continued to hold off and hoped that a message wouldn’t come in at an inconvenient time. I also just left my phone dead a lot, which was great in the moment… until I turned it on and had to deal with multiple messages flooding in.
The drive to the store was relatively short and peaceful, the classical music playing lightly in the background causing my anxiety to drain slightly. I parked, my smile growing as I realized Stratton’s dark vintage Porsche sat there, as if waiting for me to pull up right next to it. What was he doing here? I may have sped up just a bit getting out of the car because I wanted to see him… but I would never admit that.
While making my way through the store, grabbing the ingredients for my mom along with some hot chocolate packets, I checked each aisle, wanting to make sure I hadn’t missed him. I mean, it was possible Lori was here instead, but that was extremely unlikely.
“Stratton,” a masculine voice said in greeting from an aisle over, making me pause. “I heard you didn’t show at the fight last night.”
“Something came up.” Stratton’s voice was harder and more tense than I’d ever heard it. I frowned, not understanding what was going on or who had approached him.
“Was it that little girlfriend of yours everyone is talking about?” the man goaded as a second voice laughed, the tension thickening in the air.
Girlfriend? My heart ached as I squeezed the basket I was carrying, hoping that Stratton had been honest yesterday. I mean, he wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? About another woman? Not that there was a place to be ‘another’ since I wasn’t the ‘first’ or ‘main’ in any way. You know what? I couldn’t do this mental and emotional gymnastics right now.
I hoped there was no other girl Stratton was interested in. There. Simple.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stratton’s voice almost sounded lazy and indifferent, but I knew him well enough to hear the anger there.
“What’s her name again? Dahlia?” the other man asked. “Yeah, we heard all about her—”
“Dahlia is not my girlfriend,” Stratton said, his voice firm and harsh. At that moment, I was glad that I was hidden, because his words, despite being true, had my chest feeling tight as I blinked away any possible emotion. I knew I needed to listen to what was going on in this moment, that it was important, even if my heart was breaking.
“Nah, I heard you two are together all the time,” the first man chuckled. “But hey man, I get it. No one is asking you to label the pussy you’re getting.”
I winced at the way he phrased that as I waited for Stratton’s response, the tension high and making me want to see his expression so badly. When he did speak, though, I was glad I couldn’t see his eyes, because I had no doubt they were dark and cold.
“Dahlia is not my girlfriend. We just live in the same community. She hung around me all summer like a lost puppy, so I took pity on her whenever I was bored. That’s all.”
Oh. Okay, then.
My fingers tangled in my hair, or tried to, only to realize that I had put it in braids, so my nervous habit was impossible. I didn’t want to believe that he had just said what he did, but when the two other men began talking about other women, seeming to believe him, the reality of his words hit me. And they hit deep. Sliced deep. I could feel them burying themselves deep in my sternum. Before I could stop it, tears streamed down my face, but I brushed them away and inhaled sharply.
Why was I crying?
I was not going to cry about Stratton or let him find me like this.
I would think about this when I got home. I needed to get out of here. Now.
Walking towards the register, I managed to keep myself together throughout the entire checkout process, his words ringing in my ears. A lost puppy? Seriously? As I finished up my purchase, I took the receipt from the clerk and looked up to find Stratton’s gaze fixed on mine in surprise from two stalls down. I saw the realization transform from shock to something that looked almost like anger, probably at what he saw on my face, before my eyes began to water.
I was walking out of the store, head down, bags in hand, trying to get into the car as fast as possible. I couldn’t deal with him. Not yet.
Fuck Stratton Lee.
“Dahlia!” Stratton’s voice was rough as I ducked into my car, his purchases abandoned as I zoomed from the parking lot. I looked away, not caring about his crumbled expression, because I refused to feel guilty about being upset at what he said.
God. Had he really said that? A lost puppy?
I was not that! Right? I wasn’t like that, that needy and clingy… at least I didn’t try to be. My heart squeezed as pain sharpened the blow, making me realize that I really was possibly in deep with my emotions for Stratton and had been for a bit. I loved all of my men, whether I could admit it to them or not, but I knew most of them would never say something like that, even if we just stayed friends. I just didn’t get it.
Stratton may have been distant, but never mean. Why had he said that? Did he mean it? Was I that clingy? That much of a bother? Betrayal and humiliation washed over me as I drove through the gates and pulled up in front of my house. Without thinking, I quickly hopped out and called out to my mom that I left the bags in the kitchen.
I needed to get out of here before he got home. Before my parents or my guys could ask what was wrong. Shit. I guess I was going to the twins’ match alone… unless. My gaze moved over to Dermot’s house as I took a chance and jogged across the street, needing to be around someone that wouldn’t ask a million and one questions.
Before I could even knock, the front door was opening, and my eyes widened at Dermot standing shirtless in just jeans, clearly intent on going to grab… mail, maybe? Like that? Holy Christ. I blinked, but when I heard the community gate open, I ushered him back into the house without a word and shut the door, going up on my toes to see Stratton’s car pull in.
It was only then that I realized my hand was on Dermot’s bare chest as I looked away from the door and up at the sexy, somewhat sleepy man.
“I need to go to the twins’ match and I have to avoid Stratton,” I blurted out. “Help?”
Dermot examined my face before he broke into a smile, putting up a finger to signal for me to wait before jogging upstairs. I watched Stratton through the door as I heard the floorboards shift, letting me know Dermot was getting ready. I cringed as Stratton stood in his driveway looking towards my house, then scowled when he decided to walk back inside his own. Don’t get me wrong… I wasn’t there, but it still made me angry.
Angry was good.
“Out of curiosity—and not that you need a reason, lass—but what are you angry about?” Dermot’s voice had me turning sharply to find the man standing in my space, looking far more awake—and unfortunately, more clothed—than before. Had I said that out loud? Crap.
“Later,” I huffed and tightened my grip on my purse. “Let’s get to this match first.”
I found myself loving Dermot all the more as he intertwined our fingers, surprising me a bit, and leading me towards his garage. Honestly, I knew King or Yates would have had far too many questions, so this?
This was exactly what I needed.
At this moment, Dermot was exactly what I needed.
Chapter Fifteen
Dahlia Aldridge
It was official. Dermot Ross was quickly becoming my favorite person in the world. Well, at least one of them. My fingers
curled around my peppermint mocha happily as I wondered how the man had known this was exactly the little ‘pick me up’ I’d needed before I could focus on anything besides Stratton. To get my mind away from far more negative places. Seriously, I hadn’t even brought up wanting hot chocolate, and he had pulled into a local coffee shop on our way towards the match.
Maybe it was that evident in my expression that I was in a rough place, one that I still wasn’t fully ready to dissect or focus on, and to his credit, Dermot hadn’t asked again. I knew he would want an answer, but I didn’t really know what to tell him. I felt like I needed to confront Stratton before admitting to anyone what he said and how it had affected me.
Because you don’t want to know if anyone agrees with him.
Unfortunately, accurate. I was in no way ready to talk to Stratton right now, though. The idea of it made me sick to my stomach, and I was wondering just how long I could avoid him. Avoid him and the truth of our relationship that had been so clearly laid out for me.
Stratton wanted nothing to do with me.
Inhaling and exhaling slowly, I looked around the misty rugby pitch, the rain having slowed to a light drizzle. Still, the skies remained dark, allowing me to see the entire scene without having to slip on sunglasses. Normally, I preferred more sunshine, especially while sitting outside, but this somehow not only fit my mood but also kept me feeling less heated. The cool rain on my skin diminished any sense of anger, my face cool and unflushed compared to the ride over here.
The slight chill in the air banished the normal humidity for late August and had me leaning into Dermot slightly. I caught myself only right before I completely settled into his large frame, his body relaxed next to mine, his arm stretched out to rest on the bench behind me. It cocooned me in the warmth, yet I found myself wanting more.
