Page 30 of Too Far

My rage is simmering so hot it’s moments from boiling over. Apparently, I’m not alone in that regard.

“Jo.”

All eyes are on Kylian with that single word.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. They’re making it seem like you only have two options. You’ve shown me time and again that things aren’t always black and white.”

Locke hums his agreement, and Kendrick slings an arm over her shoulders, letting his hand brush casually along her bicep. He plays the gesture off as nothing more than friendly, but as I observe them, it’s obvious the contact soothes her. Instantly, her shoulders lower a fraction.

When he bows his head low and murmurs, “We’ll back you up, Mama,” her tight expression softens imperceptibly. “All of us,” he says. “If you don’t sign, we’ll figure it out.”

Misty huffs beside me. K’s statement was quiet but clear from where I sit. Though I doubt our virtual friends caught the sentiment, she obviously did.

I’m still frozen where I stand. And I really fucking hate it.

This is happening because of me, yet I’m helpless in this moment—useless.

My brothers get to support her. They get to say the words I desperately wish I could say. I fucking hate it, but I have to believe that by holding back now, I’m protecting her in the future.

It’s all I have to cling to.

The hope that when this is all over—the feature, the extreme access, our lives on display for public consumption—the life waiting on the other side will be filled with peace. Privacy. Long nights of passion and pleasure. Slow mornings waking up with her in my arms.

The hope of what could be is enough to sustain us all through the sacrifice of now.

Josephine catches my gaze as she wordlessly walks around the table. She holds her head high as she passes in front of the projector, momentarily cutting out the feed.

When she reaches me, her fists are clenched and she’s quietly cracking her knuckles.

“Let me use your pen,” she says, bumping my chair with her hip.

I gulp past the trepidation burning a hole in my esophagus and obey, willing my hand not to shake. Misty shuffles a stack of papers beside me like she’s preparing to present them to Joey. Before she can, I snatch them out of her hands and cut her out of the exchange.

My girl may be required to sign away her privacy and dignity to stay here with us, but I refuse to let her give away another piece of herself. I won’t let Misty get the satisfaction of making her any more uncomfortable, especially after the stunt she pulled with the photo slideshow the other day.

With her lower lip pulled between her teeth, Josephine takes the pen from me.

I cling to the papers like they’re my last will and testament.

With one brow cocked in a way that almost makes her look unaffected, she rests a palm on the polished surface of the dining table.

“Siren,” I whisper, overwhelmed by both reverence and sorrow, wishing I could say more.

Her brow line softens, and she gives me a subtle nod. “It’s okay, Cap,” she whispers back, taking the papers out of my hands and placing them on the table in front of her.

While she takes her time reading over the first page, every person in the room—physically or virtually—is focused on her. Seconds turn into minutes, and all the while, no one dares to speak. The only sounds come from the occasional shuffle of paper as Josephine reads through each word.

After close to ten minutes, she clicks her pen, tilts her head enough to catch my gaze, and nods once more.

“It’s okay,” she mouths. Then she scrawls her initials on the bottom of the first page.

Chapter 12

Josephine

Asthegreennumbersilluminated above the stove creep higher, I grimace. It’s almost midnight. I had no intention of staying up this late, but I won’t let myself sleep before I talk to Decker.

Finally, I hear footsteps down the hall.