Page 26

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

My body feels like it’s been dumped in the waters of the Arctic.

No matter how hard I try to control the shaking, it magnifies, as every possible scenario of who this person is crosses my mind.

And the only thing that does calm it is apparently the arms of the man I once again hated, not even twelve hours ago.

I shut my eyes, softly shaking my head to clear the thoughts swirling through it, but they linger. I shut down this part of myself a long time ago, the part that feels. It’s so much easier to hide behind indifference. It was working. Until this guy decided to show his way more enjoyable soft side.

I let my guard down for half a second and it bit me in the ass.

The kiss outside the gas station, then again before the grocery store.

The way his mouth claimed mine, the way my body reacted to the gentlest of touches, breaking down every wall I’ve spent years building. I hate myself for wanting more of them.

The nap we took, the texts, the whole Chelsea thing.

And now, this stupid note. It’s like I’ve been put in one of those tornado simulators, everything around me is pure freaking chaos.

And the only person who knows half of it is the guy who lured me into a false sense of security.

Am I being petty? Probably, but I really want to punch him in the face.

“Drink, Abby.” His voice is strained like it’s a battle just to get any words out.

He hands me my water bottle, and I take a few sips.

His eyelids lower, casting his eyes in that ‘bedroom’ glow they talk about in books, “Good girl.” He whispers as his eyes fall to my lips .

Hot damn. “I...” I clear my throat because my God, I am now overwhelmed and ridiculously turned on. “I need you to help me forget the past twelve hours,” I murmur, “please.” My voice a desperate whine as I tighten the cap.

Before I can say anything else, he slides his hands up the sides of my neck. My heart skips a beat, as my body relaxes into him. “Tatum...” I beg, as I turn to straddle him, nuzzling my head into the crook of his neck. Who the hell is this woman that’s taken over my body?

“Hey.” He breathes against my ear. “Is this about last night or this morning?”

When I don’t answer, he takes the control I so desperately need him to. “Okay then, we’ll start at the beginning. I don’t want to hang out with anyone but you.”

My heart freezes as he nips at the top of my ear. His hand makes its way down to my hip, squeezing just enough to let me know he’s got me. I have not one coherent thought at the moment. Perfect. “I don’t want to do ‘coupley’ stuff with anyone but you.”

The words echo through my head as I stiffen.

My hands grip the front of his shirt, but I don’t move away.

I can’t. He kisses the side of my neck, but my body reacting on its own as it angles to the side giving him more room to explore.

I should get off of him, tell him to stop, remind him that we aren’t supposed to feel this way, but I don’t.

I asked him for this. The consequences are my own to bear.

In seconds, he’s laid the seat all the way back and rolls me under him. He lowers himself until our chests meet, his eyes wild as they dance around my face. “I want you, Abby.” His lips meet my forehead, resting there for a second before pulling back .

“Not just here, not just today, I want to see where this goes.” He twirls a stray hair around his finger before rubbing it softly between his thumb and index finger, my eyes darting between his.

“I don’t know why, when, or how you weaseled your way into the organ in my chest, but the thought of you with someone else, or me with someone else, doesn’t sit right. ”

I shake my head as all the potential complications come to mind.

What if I ruin everything? The fact that I don’t even know if I can give up control long enough to be with someone.

Sure, we could do the hook-up while on vacation thing.

But what he’s asking for? I just don’t see that working out for either of us.

“We can’t, Tatum,” I whisper, my voice trembling with every word.

Like always, the man doesn’t listen. Not that I want him to in this instance, though.

“Hmm, you’re right.” His husky voice brings hope to the most desolate parts of me, it’s quickly becoming my favorite sound.

“But I’ve never been good at following directions.

” His lips meet mine, slow, soft. Sweet even.

A word I would have never used to describe the man above me a week ago.

When I don’t pull away, he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against the seam of my lips with an urgency that makes my heart trip over itself.

I pull back enough to look him in the eye, his lids heavy with desire. “I probably smell like sweat,” I whisper, hoping not to break the spell we’re in. His lips turn up into the tiniest smile before they meet mine again.

“I”

kiss

“don’t’

kis s

“care.”

His words act as the gate that holds back a bull in his chute. His lips slam against mine, my hand slides into the longer part of his hair, giving it a slight tug. His responding groan is such a turn-on that I arch further into him, seeking more of everything he has to offer.

We pour every ounce of fear, frustration, and desire into this. His hands run up my thigh, one hand slipping under the side of my shirt and running over my ribs. His touch a spark that threatens to burn me alive. My fingers dig into his back as they run down toward his waist.

Kissing him is every fantasy I’ve had since the incident. It’s a sudden crack of lightning that seemingly comes out of nowhere. All the arguments, insults, and every single wall we’ve built around ourselves... gone.

This isn’t just a kiss. It’s a freaking reckoning. When we pull apart, breathless and vulnerable, I sink into the realization of something I’ve known, yet ignored for a long time. Hate is the furthest thing I feel for this man. But losing a man like Tatum?

I’m not strong enough to survive that.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” He looks at me with those beautiful blues, so much hope swimming in them that it takes my breath away. I stare too long because a smirk pulls at one corner of his mouth before his hand slides to the back of my neck, and he pulls me back to him.

After he places a few short, soft kisses against the corners of my mouth, he lets me up enough that our eyes meet again.

“Lie to me, Abby.” His tongue runs across his bottom lip.

“I dare you.” He whispers, eyes full of heat, lips parted in invitation.

One I gladly take. He’s addicting in every sense of the word .

Well damn, I’m tired of fighting. He can take control. For now.

I’ve been glued to my phone for the last hour. Tatum and I drove to the next town over and stopped at a coffee shop, he insisted we sit where we could see my car in case we were followed. We certainly gave them enough time to find us with the little stop we made.

Finally, what I’ve been waiting for comes through in the form of a phone call. “Hello?” I say as I fight to keep my hands from shaking.

“What have you gotten into, Kiddo?” I’ve got four brothers.

Elliot, my oldest, runs his own cybersecurity firm.

Dex and Collin both work in law enforcement.

Bennet is the second oldest, and he’s in finance.

The one thing they all have in common? They’d do anything to keep the baby of the family safe.

I try to laugh, but it falls flat; the multitude of unknowns around this entire situation is throwing me for a loop.

“I don’t know. But the note I sent you a picture of was left on my car while I was at the gym this morning.

” I can practically see him rubbing his temples as I run through the events of the last week.

Including the run-in with the three dickheads at the gas station.

I just didn’t tell him the whole story. They’d turn up at the bottom of a river somewhere if I did.

The silence that follows is concerning, he’s either running some tracing software or he’s calling in the younger two to act as bodygu ards. Neither of which I am a fan of at this point. “El?” He hums in response.

“Sorry, Abs. Give me a second.” He says, the unmistakable sound of fingers flying across the keyboard taking the place of his voice. “Are you somewhere safe and at least semi-private that you can turn your camera on?”

Tatum gets up and does a walk-through of the coffee shop before sitting back down and nodding.

“Yeah,” I say as I tap the camera button, turning our phone call into a video one.

As soon as his screen pops up, it’s like I’m looking at a military operation.

There are screens everywhere, with different things on each one.

But the most concerning is the one that has a video feed of Tatum and I sitting inside the coffee shop.

“Where is that camera?” I ask in both amazement and fear.

He zooms in, and the big dork next to me smiles and waves. “It’s a traffic cam on one of the streetlights across the street. Is this the guy you and Dex ran into at The Beach House?” My eyes widen as Tatum laughs. It’s one of those chuckles that shakes your shoulders, but no sound comes out.

“That would be me, Tatum Wilder. Nice to meet you, Elliot.” His hand runs through his hair as my brother's face pops into view. His eyes are green like our mom's. They're currently bouncing between the two of us like he’s piecing together a thousand-piece puzzle.

Recognition flares after a few seconds. “Like the soccer player?” Tate nods, and Elliot smiles.

It’s not a friendly smile. It’s a dark, devious smile.

The one he’d save for the “secret missions” he’d do as a kid.

His career choice was a shock to exactly zero people.

“Good, I now know who to kill if something happens to my sister.” Well, that’s just great .

Clearing my throat, I get my brother's eyes back to mine. “What do I do?” My voice comes out soft, I hate the way it sounds. I’m not weak, yet right now I feel utterly helpless.

This is the very feeling that made my entire personality a defense mechanism.

A warm hand comes to rest on my knee, giving it a soft squeeze.

When my eyes meet his, I relax slightly.

A door slamming on the other end of the call makes us both jump.

Tate’s arms wrap around my shoulders as he shields my body with his.

“Where is she?!” a voice calls. The groan that leaves me is so loud that it draws the attention of other patrons.

Collin’s dark brown hair flies into view as he steps in front of where Elliot had his phone propped up.

He still doesn’t realize we’re on the phone as he stares at the live feed of Tate and I.

The one where he’s still holding me to his chest. “Who the hell is that guy?” he yells as he points at the screen.

“Turn around, asshat,” I say, causing his head to snap in the direction of my voice. “Tatum, my other brother, Collin. Collin, Tatum Wilder.” His eyes are just like mine, the same shape and color. It’s comical to watch them widen the same way Dex’s did.

“Th-the soccer player?” He stutters.

I smile, a real smile. All four of my brothers played soccer growing up.

It’s how I first knew I wanted to be a physical therapist. I was always insistent on fixing their many injuries.

“In the flesh,” I deadpan, hoping to keep his fangirling at bay.

That plan fails as he brings his knuckles to his mouth and bites down.

“Sweet Lord,” I say under my breath. “Could you be any more embarrassing?”

His arms fly out wide as he screeches. “It’s Tatum Wilder, Abby!” My eyes roll as I look up at Tatum, who is looking at the phone with a soft smile on his lips .

Bringing my face closer to the camera, Tate finally releases his hold on me. “Yeah, I’m very well aware of who he is. Thank you very much.” Collin’s eyes narrow as I sit back against the chair. He’s a homicide detective, super sharp, but the biggest goofball I’ve ever met.

He picks up the phone and walks us over to where our brother is sitting, “What’s going on?” He asks, voice turning suddenly serious as he takes in Elliot’s creased eyebrows. I give him the cliff-notes version and watch as his face turns murderous. “When are you coming home?” He grinds out.

Most of the time, I’d push back on the overprotective brother skit, but if I’m being honest..

. The note shook me to my core. It means someone has been watching me, following me.

Regardless of what the intention is, I can confidently say it’s not to sell me Girl Scout cookies.

“In three days.” Both of my brothers' heads snap up as they level Tate with their big brotherly glare.

“If anything happens to her before she gets back...” Collin trails off as Tatum raises his hands.

He scoops my phone up from where it was leaning against my water bottle as he wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his side.

My head falls to his shoulder, and he lets his rest on top of mine, giving the softest of smiles.

“I swear on my life, I’ll protect her.” Elliot’s eyebrows shoot up as he takes in our position.

“Not just here either, I’ll protect her at home, too.

” Hearing those words should not have the effect on me that they do.

I should be rolling my eyes, I should be thinking, “Yeah right. This guy?”

Instead, my thoughts sound a lot like I’m falling for this man. Maybe it’s the lack of structure I’ve had here, and I’ll magically be cur ed of my stupidity when we get home. Yeah, we’ll go with that.