Page 45 of Simply You & Me

"T," Wyatt warns, but it doesn't deter him.

Tate's hands slam on the table. "No, this is bullshit! We aren't fucking safe, and neither is she. How can we protect her when people are coming after us if she isn't aware?!"

"By leaving her out of it!" I snap. "I don't know who to tell her to look out for, and nobody will target us if we keep a distance."

Disappointment flashes in Tate's eyes, making my stomach swirl with unease. "We're going to lose her if we do this your way. I thought we came here to be better. Instead, we're smothering our relationship with the woman we're falling in love with because you're too fucking scared to show your true colors!"

Shoving to my feet, I roar, "The fuck you say?!" My skin itches with rage; a feeling that makes me feel too big for my body.

Tate throws his chair back and stares me down from across the table. "I said you're going to ruin the best thing that's ever fucking happened to us because you're afraid!"

"I'm not afraid," I grit through my teeth. My jaw grinds painfully, but it's enough to ground me and keep me from lashing out at my boy.

"Like hell you're not! You're terrified of what Addie will think when we tell her who we worked for. Who we fucking laid our lives on the line for. Tell me, Zach. What do you think Addie will say when you tell her your security business catered to abusers, rapists, killers, kidnappers!? Does nobody remember what happened to Rylee?! I kept her in the dark and look at what happened to her. You’re being fucking stupid!"

"ENOUGH!" Wyatt's fists pound into the table. "Tate, go cool off. Zach, sit down. Rory will be here soon, and there's no way in hell you want her to see you like this."

With a scoff, Tate stomps his way upstairs. Just as my ass hits the chair again, his bedroom door slams closed. Sighing, I close my eyes and drop my head into my palms. Wyatt stays quiet, his incessant typing starting right where it left off. My blood feels like it's boiling; my skin tightening and trying to melt off.

Wyatt interrupts my silent meltdown. "He's right, you know?" Lifting my head, I fight like hell not to glare or get defensive because, yeah, Tate is right. "I'm scared of how she might look at me, too, Zach."

"Wyatt," I start, only for him to wave me off.

"No need to make me feel better, Zach. I ignored so many fucked up things for years. The shit we saw. Everything we turned a blind eye to. Fuck, I mean, you're the only one with a good reason."

My mom. I never had a dad, or one that I knew of, anyway. It was always mom and me against the world. I tried so hard to bear the weight of our lives. I had to grow up fast.

Mom worked so damn much I missed her every day. We had money to survive, sure, but nothing extra. Since I was little, I decided I would always take care of her. I would do anything for my mom. I wanted to give her the life she deserved, and the only way I managed it was by ignoring the crimes of the people I worked for.

I succeeded. Mom lived comfortably from the time I turned eighteen until she died a few years ago. Heart attack. For too long, Mom couldn't afford to eat healthy, and having hereditary health issues, her body just couldn't keep going.

But I gave her everything she deserved for as long as I could. She was happy. Had she known how I was making my money, she would have kicked my ass. She'd have been so disappointed. Then she was just… gone. Gone before we could get out of there. Two years into collecting evidence and figuring out what to do, she died. I lost my mom, just like I lost my morals.

Tate was my only good deed. I couldn't stand by watching a young sixteen-year-old boy get smacked around. Why my heart chose him to beat for, I don't know; I had seen worse.

For two years, we questioned what we were doing. But Rylee was our tipping point. Not caring what job we took, we almost led her abusive baby daddy right to her.

I could say it was Tate we made the change for, but honestly, hearing Tate sobbing over the phone the night he killed Mason will forever haunt me. Fuck, he was terrified. And hurt. I would never forgive myself if something happened to my family. I wasn't worried about clearing his name or the fact that he was carrying a gun and too young to be at the nightclub that night. No, I was horrified my boy was ever in that position. A position we were all in because of the people we worked for.

"I don't have any reason or excuse, Zach," Wyatt murmurs, a faraway look in his eyes. "God, I just didn't want to lose you guys. For so long, I didn't belong anywhere, and my skills were never useful. Finally, fucking finally, I was needed and loved. How pathetic is that? I overlooked years of horrific acts because I wanted the love and family I had to go home to. You guys. I should have been better."

There's nothing I can say to take away his guilt. Hell, I feel sick with guilt every damn day, thinking of all the people we should have protected. Instead, I lay my palm on his thigh and murmur, "I know, Wyatt. I love you so damn much, and our fucked up decisions will never change that. We're a family, and you will forever be ours, okay?"

Wyatt uncrosses his arms and relaxes a smidge. He nods. "Love you too, in spite of all the fuckery."

I just hope Addie can, too.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Adelyn

I'm exhausted, which seems to be a theme lately. This time, not only am I physically wanting to sleep forever, but I'm emotionally just done. Work hasn't done me any good tonight, either. I should be out getting pregnancy tests and working through the fact that I missed my period weeks ago. Swallowing back bile at each waft of shrimp should not be how I'm spending my Friday night.

"West!" Shit. "Clock out, you're done!"

Thank hell. Waving goodbye to a couple of the other waitresses, I grab my keys and make my way to the back. Employees aren't allowed to use the front door or the front lot. It's almost 9:30, which gives me plenty of time to pick Rory up at the guys' house. Maybe I can have a quick breakdown in my car.

Snagging the heavy door before it can slam closed, I gently snick it shut and dig my phone out of my pocket. This past week, being forced to keep it in my locker at work has been just what I needed. Waiting for the guys to talk to me like a teenager isn't healthy. Neither has been the overwhelming disappointment over receiving no messages while I've been at work.

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