Page 70 of Simply You & Me

Still on my knees between Wyatt's legs, I swallow repeatedly, hoping to stuff the emotion back down. On Wyatt's other side, Julian sits, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and looking like he's about to shatter. Do we all look like that?

Zach leans back, using the space to look at each of us. "I'm sorry," he croaks. "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you guys. I know this hasn't been easy on any of us and while we should have banded together and taken comfort in each other, I feel like I haven't been with you in this. No longer. This needs to change if we want to come out the other side in one piece. As one family. I love you," he whispers, his soul opening for us to see and feel.

"I'm sorry, too. I love you," Julian says, his voice cracking slightly as he meets our gazes.

"I love you," I whisper back, soaking them in, knowing that our words are meant for the four of us. "I'm sorry. No more. I'm here, with you."

Wyatt's thighs clench beneath my palms, his throat thick with all the words he wants to say. "I miss you, and I love you. I'm sorry."

As one, as a family, we wipe away the dried blood on Wyatt's chest and apply ointment to his bruising skin. As a family, we take care of each other. As a family, we will get through this and move forward. We may have failed in many ways, individually and as a group, but we're back and stronger than ever. With love and vulnerability shining through our eyes, we solidify our bond, rebuilding into something impenetrable. Our family bonds harden into a fucking fortress, ready to defend our woman and children.

We're ready. With each other, we will keep them safe. Keep each other safe.

Chapter Forty-Six

Adelyn

Stuffing, turkey, ham, and green bean casserole. Those are the things make me want to keel over and throw up right now. The mashed potatoes and gravy with dinner rolls, though? Yum.

The oven beeps at me, but I pay it no mind. I'm not ready quite yet. This turkey that Julian and Tate picked up yesterday is fat as fuck. Wyatt's on house rest, much to his dismay when I asked for Thanksgiving ingredients. And no, I don't feel bad for asking them for things. My kid deserves a fabulous Thanksgiving, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

My wrists ache as I knead the homemade dough for dinner rolls. The smell is nice, an easy segue into the stifling aroma that will try to suffocate me in a few hours.

With the dough rising, and the turkey ready to cook for a year, I lift and heave the bird into the oven. Gross. Hopefully Bean will let me eat it later when it doesn't smell like skin. Sometime after scrubbing the floors and prepping the green bean casserole, the guys trickle down. The clock tells me it's a little after eight in the morning. I've been up since five thirty. Thanksgiving won’t make itself magical. That's the mom's job.

I couldn’t sleep last night. The information, the horror, and shock of their story broke me a little. I was angry, so angry. With them and myself. I hate how much I understand where each of them is coming from. It’s so much to process and I don’t think I’ll ever not be processing their lives before South Carolina. So, I cook and clean. I move forward. Because, while it feels like everything has changed, nothing has. I’m still here, trusting them and making myself at home in their kitchen.

Talk about a mind fuck.

"It smells like heaven down here," Tate moans, dragging his sleep rumpled self onto the stool at the island.

I give him a small smile and start on pancakes, now that everyone will be getting up soon. Half chocolate chip, half regular, and a dash of their chocolate protein powder. Bacon too, of course. Nibbling on my piece, I turn my back on Tate again, too lost in the zone for chit chat.

"What's going on in here?" Zach's scratchy voice sends shivers down my spine. The sound of a kiss being shared behind me has my cheeks burning.

In a black pair of sweats and a matching cropped black zip up, I can almost blame the warmth on the clothes. Almost.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Julian murmurs, kissing my cheek on the way to the coffeepot.

"Good morning," I say back, definitely not keeping track of all the bare chests now hovering around me.

"Doll, what are you doing?" Zach asks, now hovering over my shoulder.

I frown over my shoulder, getting warmer by the second. "Making pancakes."

Tate snorts behind the wall of muscle glowering down at me. Said wall of muscle huffs and rumbles, "Smart ass. Why are you making all the Thanksgiving shit, and why do the floors look like a damn mirror?"

"You're welcome?" I say, lilting my words like a question just to sass him. I swear if he gets mad?—

"Adelyn, you should be resting," he snaps quietly and tries to pry the spatula from my fingers.

"Zach, come on," Julian mumbles, looking like he's still half asleep.

The force he uses to shove Zach out of the kitchen though suggests he might be a bit more awake than I initially thought. Or maybe he can kick ass while sleeping. From what they said last night, they must be the best of the best to land in such a powerful community.

With them out of my way and grumbling from the living room, I finish breakfast. As I move to set the table, cool fingers take the pancake platter from my hands. Wyatt smiles down at me and helps me get everything on the table without a word. It's nice.

"Mom?" My bleary-eyed child pads her way into the kitchen in her matching green pajama set. "I'm hungry."

---