Page 17 of Simply You & Me

Tate frowns and looks down at our intertwined fingers. "We saw the blood. If he didn't hurt you, then I apologize for how he treated you during your first time."

I pull my hands away, baffled by the man in front of me. "The hell are you talking about? That wasn't my first anything. Tate, I have no idea what you are talking about. Seriously, I'm not mad or upset with Julian. Also, I don't think it's any of your business to begin with." The panic over the blood has me running my damn mouth more than usual.

"But the blood," he says, but it comes out like a question.

"Mom! Look, my friend is here!" Rory comes bustling out the front door in her black sweatpants and grey sweatshirt. Trailing behind her, Wyatt walks out of the house, looking like a damn model with her duffel bag.

Thank hell for Aurora interrupting this very uncomfortable conversation. I need to get out of here before I combust into a pile of anxiety and deflection.

"Hello, Wyatt. Good to see you. Come on, Rory, Gabby needs help unloading the groceries." Lie. "See you later, Tate." I grab the bag from Wyatt's grasp and avoid his eyes that I know are trying to see into my soul.

I watch as Rory tugs on Wyatt's shirt sleeve and hold back my swoon at the soft way he looks at her. He kneels and pulls on one of Rory's braids, making my daughter beam at him before giving him a big hug. To my surprise, the black-haired man with a neck tattoo and a clove hanging out of his mouth hugs my eight-year-old back. Sweet hell.

It only gets worse, too. Tate crouches and swings his arms wide. "What about me, Dino?"

Rory rolls her eyes but throws her arms around Tate's neck, anyway. "I'm not a dinosaur, no matter what Layla calls me."

"Roar reminds me of a dinosaur, so you are Dino. And that's what friends do; they give each other nicknames." Tate boops her nose and stands beside Wyatt.

I wave as Rory tells them goodbye. She fills the drive home with stories of how Wyatt and Tate came over a few hours ago and played with the girls.

"Mom, when can I see them again? They are really, really nice. Plus, they said they would love to see you, too!"

The hard part about having an outgoing, energetic daughter? I can't always say no or give her an excuse why I'm not there. I may biologically be Aurora's sister, but I am her mother.

Being an anxious homebody paired with a kid who loves people and making friends, I have to pull on my people panties sometimes. Which sucks.

Chapter Twelve

Tate

"Okay, that's enough! Get your asses inside NOW!"

I collapse at the sound of Zach's shout across the backyard. Julian isn't far behind me, hitting the ground with a thud and a curse. My heaving breaths feel like I'm being stabbed in the throat and lungs at the same time. Coughing, I attempt to lift my arm to swipe away some of the sweat tickling my temple. The attempt is a failure. My limbs feel like they are sinking into the earth beneath me and refuse to be corralled back to the land of the living.

"Fuck. How long have we been out here, man? The sun is setting." Julian huffs beside me.

No shit. The sun really is setting. We must have been sparring for the last two hours. "I can't move," I groan.

Julian's incoherent mumbles are the only response I get. We went way too hard for way too long. After a few more minutes of catching our breath and relaxing our battered muscles, Julian shifts and stands.

"Come on, babe, before Zach drags us in like children." Jules holds out a hand in offering, which I take without hesitation. "Think we can get out of talking?"

I snort, following him into the house. "No chance in hell. I bet he’ll sit us down as a family with a whole speech planned out." Locking the door behind me, I chuckle when Julian groans.

"Get in here. Now. Family meeting!"

Julian stops and turns to me, wide-eyed. As his lips slowly curl, I can't hold back my laughter. His rambunctious laughter sets me off again, shoving each other all the way to the living room.

"Care to share?" Zachary's voice is deep and menacing. He stands with his arms crossed between the dining room and the couches.

"Not really, no," Julian says through puffs of laughter. I cover my smirk, not wanting to set Zach off even more.

"Too bad. We’re about to do a lot of fucking sharing. Sit your asses down," Zach demands.

Obliging him, I take a seat on the couch above where Julian plops his ass on the floor. Laughing with him released some much-needed tension after the shit show of the past twenty-four hours.

Wyatt waltzes in without a care in the world and takes the leather recliner. His teeth and tongue fiddle with the unlit clove in his mouth, betraying his calm exterior. It's his nervous tick. The clove is like a security blanket when he's not smoking them.

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