Page 9 of The Trust (As Above)

Jordan

I’ve never played hooky in my life.

Always been the reliable one that’s showed up early, hustled my ass off, and went home late.

But when I pull my old Impala up to the paint splattered building and Mac sits a little straighter in his seat, I know I made the right call.

I’ll make sure Lemon gets a bonus for the idea.

“P-paintball?” Mac mumbles in awe.

The building is set back in the woods, the fall claiming most of the foliage surrounding it, and its walls are covered in layers of splattered colors.

My grin spreads when Mac plasters himself to his window like he’s seeing one of the world’s wonders up close for the first time.

“Yeah, Vida. You ever been?”

“No,” he whispers to the glass, then turns to me and snags my hand once the car is parked. “Out loud?”

I kiss his knuckles.

And even though my heart is in my throat and I’ve scanned the area fifteen times, I nod.

“You and me.”

He sucks back air like he’s breathing the chance in, but when his face splits open in a grin so wide his eyes squint, my heart studders.

Stumbles.

Trips over the sight of him turning such a beautiful thing on me .

And that when it hits me.

All those years of following him, questioning myself, seeing his light dim in a darkness I couldn’t combat …

It was never me covering it like I thought it’d been. Worried it would be.

No.

It was the weight of feelings he couldn’t share.

It was every smile he wanted to let out and didn’t. Every emotion he kept in. Touches gone unreciprocated. His love unmatched.

The heaviness of being on the outside while everyone else around him got what they wanted.

The burden of loving me without me knowing.

Seven years .

For seven years, Mac sat on his feelings for me. Unable to say them out loud.

How stupid I’d been .

Not anymore. Not another second.

I stumble out of the car and rush around the hood to his side with my heart thundering in my chest.

He’s stretching out of the car when I make it to him, his brows pinched together, but I don’t stop.

I don’t stop until my hands are on his jaw, and his hips are meeting mine.

Not until those brilliant greenish eyes are locked on mine, narrowed slightly and searching.

“I love you,” I say thickly and swallow, his nose brushing mine.

“I love your hair and the way you laugh at everything. That you paint your nails and wear eyeliner sometimes. But I also love how strong and proud you are.” His smile is the softest thing I’ve ever seen.

“And I love how big this heart is.” I press a palm to his chest and let the thump calm me.

“How caring and just … fucking … adorably sweet you are all the time.”

His snicker is water-logged, and he nudges his nose to mine. “Even when I can’t sit still?”

I nod against his head. “Even then, mi Vida.”

“What about when I don’t listen to you?”

It’s my turn to snicker. “I love who you are . Including then.” His laugh is wet and deep and feeds something in my soul. “Now let’s go so I can kick your ass in some paintball.”

I smack one more kiss to his lips and snag his wrist, dragging him across the gravel drive, his laugh following the whole way.

And when we enter the place and Mac attempts to pull away from my grip, I hold him tighter. Thread my fingers through his. Clasp his palm tightly in mine.

Audibly.

The clerk behind the counter sends a smile my way, then flicks her gaze to the pen holder next to her monitor where a small flag stands proud in the center.

The colors winking back at me have a rush of relief flying through my system and I glance over my shoulder at Mac. My boyfriend. The man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

And then I pull out my wallet and use our joined hands to hold it while I finger out a credit card.

“How much to play until he gets tired of it?”

The clerk’s smile softens on us, and she leans into the counter. “How about you open a tab, and I’ll cash you out when you come back. However long that is.”

With my card secured behind the counter and gear doled out, Mac and I make our way back outside with fully loaded airsoft rifles and pockets full of colorful ammo.

“I gotta admit,” I mutter and lick my lips, drawing my sight down his thighs and back up to the eyeblack staining his cheeks. “You look hot as fuck in tactical gear.”

Mac’s grin is smug as he slides safety glasses on his nose.

“Say that again when I beat you.”

He aims right at the vest covering my sternum and shoots.

Orange explodes over my stomach, and I throw my hands up.

“We haven’t even started yet!”

“Says you ,” he says on a laugh and bolts.

“Vida!” I call out to his disappearing back, but it does me no good.

My man is already in the zone.