Page 63 of Auctioned to the Prisoners

“Never,” James murmurs, stepping forward to clap Rock on the shoulder. “It hasn’t been the same without you.”

The air is thick with unspoken relief. The history between these men—between us all—is stitched together with loyalty and a love that defies all the hurdles and restrictions we’ve faced. I watch as they fall into an easy rhythm as if no time has passed at all. James and Connor—different as night and day—share a look, a silent acknowledgment that the circle is complete.

“Come on,” I say, motioning toward the open door. “We’ve got dinner waiting, and Connor’s been working on his tamales.”

Connor grumbles, “Working on, yeah. Don’t know if they’ll be edible.”

Rock chuckles, the tension easing from his massive frame. “I’m more than happy to be the judge of that.”

We step inside together, the four of us.

It’s not quite the house I described to James all those months ago when a fantasy had the power to take us outside the high walls that kept us trapped, but inside, it’s white and pale blue and green, soft colors that are calm and peaceful. There are wood floors and cream rugs, and a blue couch with cream throw pillows. It’s a sanctuary for us all.

There isn’t a swing set or tree house in the garden yet, but there will be when our children are ready. They’ll fill this place with happiness for us all.

The house is full now, the way it’s supposed to. And as I look at the men who’ve become my world, I realize that, for the first time in forever, we’re not trapped. We’re not running. We’re not waiting. We’re just... home.

26

CONNOR

WAKING UP

It’s hard to explain what it’s like now that we’re all back together. The relief is like a long exhalation of breath. Like standing on the top of a building with your arms outstretched... like floating in the ocean with the sun licking your skin from above.

Lory helps me take the food outside while Rock and James talk and laugh. The tamales turned out okay. They're a little rustic-looking, but food is about the taste, not about the appearance. Anyway, Lory taught me that a sprinkle of cilantro and a slice of lime elevates almost any Mexican dish.

“I can’t believe he’s here,” she says, returning for a bowl of rice.

“Does he seem bigger to you?”

She laughs brightly, her entire face lighting up. “I think he worked out all his sexual tension pushing weights in the yard.”

“The guy is going to freak out our neighbors.”

“If people weren’t wary of us before, they’re gonna be now!”

We eat, and Rock fills us in on the gossip from Blackstone. We don’t linger on it for long because he’ll want to focus on other things rather than carry the specter of where he’s come from into our new life.

“So, what have you guys been doing?”

“I have a job,” James says proudly. “Apprentice baker.”

“Well.” Rock rubs his stubbly face, smiling. “That’s amazing. What about you?”

His dark eyes settle on me, and he tips his head to one side. He knows that every time I leave the house, there’s a risk I might be spotted and apprehended. I’ve taken to bleaching my hairwhite-blond, and I’ve slowly been having my tattoos removed to make me less identifiable. I don’t go anywhere without sunglasses, which is fine in Mexico. The sun here provides a constant glare. Before I answer, Lory pipes up.

“I’ve started a business—Cakealicious—and Connor helps with the finances and promotions.”

“Plus, he’s our house husband.” James grins, and I scowl, not because I mind doing more of the chores but because his smugness riles me.

“I’ll put you on toilet duty if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He pretends to zip his lips, and I nod my approval.

“What do you think you’ll do?” Lory asks. We’re not short of money, but men need something to keep them occupied, and the quicker Rock gets a job, the quicker he’ll be at home here.

“Construction.” He lifts his arms up and flexes his biceps. “Gotta give these guns some action to justify the work I’ve put in.”

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