Page 299 of Blackwood

Cade walks over and leans in close, lips grazing mine. “You look like you want to devour her.”

“I want to do a hell of a lot more than that,” I growl back, pulling him in for a kiss. “To both of you.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Ok everyone! In just a few days, these queens fly out to Dallas for Nationals!”

The crowd screams. Whistles. Chants. Someone even rings a damn cowbell.

“And here at Wexley,” Knox continues, “school spirit is mandatory as fuck. So, our Wolves… they’ve got something to say to their girls.”

“I Believe That We Will Win!” Pitbull’s remix slams through the speakers.

Callum, August, and the rest of the Wexley football team explode out onto the floor like it’s game day at Kingsley Field. Full-blown hype mode. They form a circle around The Trifecta, jumping and chanting. Bella puts a hand over her heart, eyes glassy.

Cade nudges me, shouting over the music. “We doing this or what, King?”

We both charge the floor, barging into the circle, grab Bella and lift her off the ground as the chant builds around us. Ellie’s crying from laughter. Haley’s screaming with joy. I look over tosee Rico and Javi smiling from ear to ear, wiping tears out of their eyes.

“Now this is how you hype up a dance team,” Rez says walking up to me and joining in the on the chaos.

♥♥♥

Home - about to finally give Little Lex the release he’s wanted for fucking ever!

64 Days Since Henry’s Death

She’s slung over my shoulder like a sack of tipsy, glitter-drenched potatoes, singing what I think is Luke Bryan but might also be a hymn. Or a threat. Hard to say with that accent of hers curling around every note.

“She always get this southern when she’s wasted?” I ask as I unlock the apartment, steadying her with one arm.

“Only when she’s drunk and safe,” Cade mutters, hauling the duffels behind me. “Last time I heard it this strong was back in Nashville.”

I grin, because yeah, tonight was a fucking win. Our girl laughed, danced, owned every inch of The Catacombs. She was fire. She was back. I carry her into the bedroom and she mumbles something about bourbon and boots before flopping onto the mattress face-down, still in my hoodie and her leather shorts.

“She gonna get under the covers?” Cade asks.

“She was,” I mutter, brushing hair off her cheek. “Now? Dead to the world.”

We exchange a look, the one that says we’ve been waiting all goddamn night to finally touch her. After the dances, afterLove Game, after her cowboy boots dug into my back while she moaned into my mouth.

My cock twitches.

Cade groans.

“Five minutes,” I say. “We grab the rest of her shit, come back, wake her up soft. Real soft.”

“Deal.”

We sprint down to the car like two dudes chasing a holy relic, grab The Trifecta’s luggage mountain, and drag it all back up. I’m sweating. Cade’s cursing. But we’re hyped. Ready.

And then I open the door. She’s curled on her side, snuggled in my hoodie, one boot still on.

Dead.

Ass.

Asleep.