Page 74 of A Wreck, You Make Me (Bad Boys of Bardstown #3)

The Redhead Watch is temporarily gone while the case goes on in court and will likely be gone for a while because these things take time, their team’s publicist explained.

Although that’s not to say, their interest in the Thorne family has gone.

While I don’t have articles dedicated to me, I see my and Snow’s name crop up here and there.

Last time it was the article about the ages of the Thorne brothers and their career trajectory.

They stuck Callie, me and Snow at the bottom as an additional paragraph, mentioning we exist too. What sexist assholery.

But I don’t care about that right now. Because my eyes are filled with moisture and I’m trying to get rid of it.

It’s hard though, because first, he’s talking.

He’s telling me things. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

Yes, it’s not deep or dark or really vulnerable conversation, but it’s a start.

It’s a huge start for him. For us. Even though I know there isn’t an us.

And second, I feel such relief that he’s in it with me.

That it’s not my secret alone. I mean, I knew that and knowing him, he never would’ve wanted me to take the burden alone.

But him saying the words means everything.

Not to mention, this makes me realize how far I’ve come.

Before, it would be so hard for me to accept help and support.

To admit that I even want it. But now, it’s easy.

Because he made it so. And because I know, I can see, how important this is for him, to take care of me and all the things, I give in.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He breathes out, his chest moving against mine. Then, “Security cameras aren’t enough.”

I frown. “What?”

“I need to know where you are at all times.”

“I don’t?—”

“So I bugged your phone,” he cuts me off.

My heart thuds as I stare at him for a second. “You bugged my phone.”

“Yeah.”

Again, I take a beat. Then, “I don’t…” Finally, it settles over me, what he just said, and I put a hand on his chest to push him away. “You bugged my phone ?”

He presses me into the bed. “Calm down.”

I arch under him, trying to throw him off. Just when I think we’re turning a corner, he tells me this. “Calm down. Calm down ? Seriously ? What do you mean you bugged my phone?”

He clenches his jaw, not letting me have an inch. “What do you think I mean? I put tracking software on it. So I know where you are at all times.”

“Why, because you’re a freaking psycho?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, growling. “And because I’m not here to protect you anymore. So I need to know where you are, or someone needs to know where you are. So they can come save you when your fucking ass gets in trouble.”

“What trouble?” I ask, slapping his chest. “I never get in trouble.”

“Do I need to remind you of those fucking assholes from the other night?”

“Those were your teammates.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“They weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yet.”

I push at him again, clawing at his bare chest. “Do you not… How did you even get my phone? How did you even get into it to put software on? How did you even know what software to put or whatever the hell it is?”

“I stole it,” he announces like he’s so proud. “And my friend walked me through how to crack your pansy-ass passcode and install the software. The data feeds into my phone or his at all times.”

I dig my nails into his chest harder. “God, this is such a gross invasion of privacy and?—”

“Yeah?” His eyes flash then, his nostrils flaring. “And what do you call my father trying to get into your fucking room in the middle of the night? Is that invasion of privacy too or are we just moving past that and calling it a pedophile being a fucking pedophile?”

I open my mouth to argue again when I realize what he said, and my heart squeezes so fucking hard, I lose my breath.

He notices my ire losing some of its steam, and says, his words gruff and angry, “You forced me to promise you. You forced me to not go after him and tear him limb from limb. Knowing that it would be excruciatingly painful for me to break a promise to you. So if you’re not going to let me avenge you for all those sleepless nights, all those years of feeling unsafe and scared in your own home, for protecting Callie…

That’s why you did it, didn’t you? You told me.

Because you didn’t want Callie to feel unsafe.

You didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, to us.

That’s what you’ve done, all your life. Protected people, people you didn’t even know.

So now you’re going to let me protect you however I want to, do you understand?

It’s your turn now. We won’t have any discussions about this either.

No compromises, no two-way street. This is mine too. Is that clear to you?”

“Yes.”

And then, I can’t stop myself, so I reach up and catch his lips in a kiss.

He kisses me back and we lose ourselves in the moment.

Before long, we’re making out. When we come up for air, I say the first thing that comes to mind, “I can’t believe you brought me flowers.

I can’t believe you broke your window and then kneeled on broken glass for me. ”

“I hurt you, didn’t I? And flowers are nice, but nothing says I’m sorry better than my mouth on your cunt and broken glass cutting into my knees.”

I caress his face. “How are you here?”

I can’t believe I haven’t asked him this yet. But we’ve been so busy and cozy in our bubble that it didn’t occur to me to bring it up. It’s time though. To get back to the real world. It’s time for him to leave soon.

His calm expression changes and becomes taut, as if realizing the same thing. “Took the first flight out.”

“But you have a game tomorrow.”

“I’ll make it.”

“But shouldn’t you be, like, with your team right now?” I say, my eyes flicking back and forth between his. “Doing pre-game stuff and all that.”

His nostrils flare with a sharp breath as he clips, “It’s fine.”

“But,” I keep insisting because he still doesn’t seem to grasp the urgency of the matter, the sheer excitement and thrill, “you’re doing so amazing, Shepard.

I think you’re really going to win. Not that I ever doubted it, but I think you’re bringing home the trophy this year.

You need your full focus on the game. You can’t be?—”

“You know so much about soccer now?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

I frown.

Before I can say anything, he moves away from me. He rolls out of bed even, all naked and angry, and Jesus, glorious , and strides toward the ensuite bathroom. And I’m left wondering what just happened.