Page 75 of Too Far

“What?” I ask, shaking my head slightly to clear it.

“It looked like you were having an out-of-body experience there for a minute, babe.”

With a light huff, I shrug.

I wouldn’t admit this to anyone—not even Hunter—but dreaming is new for me. For most of my life, I operated in survival mode, just trying to get by as a kid, then trying to get out as a teenager.

Considering my future and all that’s now possible is novel and overwhelming, but in the most wonderful way. It’s easy to get lost in my head when I allow myself to dream. But it’s a good kind of lost. It’s limitless. Hopeful. Powerful.

“I want to take care of people.” I declare. It’s true. Every version of my dreams for the future involves helping others in some capacity.

“How about social work? Or teaching?”

“Maybe,” I hedge. Both are admirable, but I’m not sure either is quite right for me.

With a waggle of her brows, Hunter upturns her palms and sweeps them across the mess in front of her. “You could always follow in my footsteps and go into law.”

I snicker. “I said I want to take care of people, Hunter. Not ruin their lives.”

“Hey! I fully intend to take care of people.” She lifts a hand to her chest, feigning outrage.

“For a billable rate of three hundred dollars an hour.”

“Bible.”

A gasp slips from my mouth and my eyes go wide. “Isn’t that Greedy’s thing?”

“Oh God.” She drops her head into her hands. “I can’t escape him. He’s everywhere. He’s even infiltrating my speech patterns.”

“Hey, as long as that’s all he’s infiltrating…”

She’s still got her face buried in her hands, but I swear her cheeks flush at that comment.

Giving her the space she so obviously needs from that scrutiny, I hold back another jab and check the time.

“We should get going,” I murmur. Stacking my books, I push my chair back and stand. “The guys want to be home by dinnertime so Decker doesn’t have to face the camera crew alone for too long.”

With a nod, Hunter goes about organizing and packing up her copious notes and books.

She offered to hang out with me in the library tonight since Kylian had a meeting and the guys had practice. Decker is the only one required to spend a certain amount of time at the house and on camera each day. The rest of us have made a concerted effort to stay away from the isle as much as possible, so this worked out well.

Hunter heaves her backpack over her shoulders, then loops her arm through mine. “Let’s get you home, Josephine Meyer.”

We spot the guys the moment we pull into the marina parking lot. Kendrick and Locke are leaning against the front of K’s Suburban, heads bowed low in conversation. Kylian stands tall between Decker’s G Wagon and my Civic, his attention fixed on Hunter’s headlights as we approach.

Always watching. Always waiting.

He’s safety and security, passion and care, packaged up in a brilliant, beautiful man.

I exit Hunter’s car, call a quick bye over my shoulder, and head straight for my target.

“Hi, baby.” He catches me by the belt loops and pulls me flush against his body. Sliding one hand up my spine to grip the back of my neck, he kisses me. Then, instead of backing away after a moment like I expect, he deepens the connection, sucking on my bottom lip and groaning into my mouth like he can’t get enough. “How was your day?” he asks when he finally pulls back.

I inhale deeply, lightheaded from the intensity of his greeting.

“It was good,” I finally answer, snuggling into his chest. “Missed you.”

He tightens his hold on me, the move settling the loose threads of worry that have pulled me in different directions all week.