Page 164 of X's and O's

He looked just like his daddy.

With biological children from each man, our family had felt complete.

And yet none of us had the same last name.

It had been War who’d campaigned for us all to take mine.

It had been War who’d been first to get down on one knee and ask to let him have it.

But my smile faltered because now he was the only one not saying those two little words that would marry us, at least in the eyes of the only people who mattered.

“War,” I whispered.

Nash and Scythe both turned to look at him.

He let out a slow breath and then gave the celebrant a tight smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

My stomach sank, but it took a good few seconds for my brain to catch up and make sense of his words.

Scythe growled softly from beside me. “What the fuck do you mean, you can’t do this?” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the crowd of people watching, all none the wiser as to what was going on since War had spoken so quietly. “I love you, but I swear to God, if you’re standing us up right now, I’m going to twist your balls into one of those balloon animals Grayson is so fond of.”

There wasn’t a hint of humor in his voice. My psychopath meant every word.

Literally.

Despite the situation, warmth curdled inside me.

I hadn’t always loved Scythe’s threats of violence, but I had to admit they mostly only happened when he was protecting someone he loved.

I just didn’t normally need protecting from War.

I stared up at him. “You don’t want this?” I couldn’t help the crack in my voice.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Shit, baby girl. No. I mean, yes! That’s not what I meant.”

“Then work out what you did mean, because I still carry a knife strapped to the inside of my leg and I can turn this into a red wedding quicker than you can blink,” Scythe threatened.

The officiant took a step back in alarm.

Nash put a placating hand out toward her. “He’s joking.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Scythe!” Nash hissed, running his hand through his graying hair. “Jesus Christ, could we just have one day where you don’t threaten to maim, murder, or mutilate someone?”

Lexa, our eldest daughter, piped up from the front row, “Aunty Rebel? What does mutilate mean?”

I squeezed my eyes shut while the wedding unraveled around me.

But all I was doing was waiting for War to walk away.

When I opened them, he was still standing there.

This time, he grinned and raised his voice. “Let me clarify, for the sake of my very dramatic family and anyone else who might have been confused. I meant I couldn’t say those traditional vows.” He gazed down at me. “I know we said we would, but they don’t cover everything I want to say today.” He took out a piece of paper and held it up as proof so everyone could see. “I wrote my own. I’m not pulling a runaway groom—”

“Good, because I’m faster than you and I will chase you down and stab you in the neck,” Scythe muttered grumpily, folding his arms across his chest.

War held his hand out. “Maybe you should just hand over the knife for the sake of all involved. You seem extra stabby today.”