Page 23 of Call You Mine

“Fuck no you are not!” Ace shouts, tugging his sister out of my arms. My hand reaches out to grab hers, pulling her back to me. “She cannot be yours.”

“The fuck she can’t,” I shout back at him, letting my possessive nature get the best of me. Ace Fucking Servite does not get to have a say in this.

Wynter gasps when I pull her into me, her body crashing against mine while my hands instinctively wrap around her waist to steady her.

Behind Ace, Scarlett’s eyes go wide at the sight of Wynter in my arms, her anxious gaze flicking back and forth between her husband and me.

Scar steps forward, placing a hand on Ace’s shoulder to calm him.

“Ace, baby, remember this is Stella’s wedding. We don’t want to cause a scene,” she reminds him, her eyes flicking to me. There’s a warning in her gaze, a silent threat to cut the bullshit and think about our friends.

“Ace,” Wynter interjects, not stepping out of my grasp as she turns her attention to her brother. In fact, she leans further against me, her hand resting on mine, currently gripping her hip. “You’re my brother and despite the asshole that you are sometimes, I love you, but don’t for a second think you get a say in who I fuck.”

Ace’s brows furrow deeper together and in that moment, I realize how much the two of them look alike. It’s unnerving to say the least. The same round blue eyes and sharp bone structure, complete with a thin nose and defined cheekbones and jaw. Ace’s hair is a darker shade of blond, but other than that, there is no doubt these two are twins.

Unlike Ruby and I, who look nothing alike other than the black hair and green eyes we share.

“You’re fucking him?” Ace growls, looking about ready to pounce on me.

Come at me, fucker. I dare you.

I can’t help but laugh. “Come on man, you’re on your second kid. It surprises me you still haven’t had the talk about the birds and the bees,” I mock, knowing that’s probably the opposite of what Scar was asking us to do. “It’s pretty common for couples to fuck when they’re in a relationship.”

Relationship. I just admitted to being in a fucking relationship with Wynter Servite.

What the fuck?

By this point, Ace is fucking livid, his face bright red as his anger consumes him. But you can see despite the rage he’s feeling, there’s a part of him holding back for obvious reasons.

“I’m going to fucking kill you for touching my sister, asshole,” he threatens, but before he can do anything about it, Scar saves the day.

“Enough both of you,” Scar cries out, making the few guests passing by us turn to glare in annoyance. “Wynter, Drake, congratulations or whatever.” She turns her anger at Ace, her scowl softening as she takes his face in between her hands. “Baby, this is none of your concern. Wynter is a big girl, and even if she wasn’t, you don’t get to interfere in her life that way.”

For a second I think he’s going to push her away and come at me, but to my surprise the whipped fucker concedes, wrapping his arms around his pregnant wife as he kisses her like they’re not standing in fucking public.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers to her, and that’s our cue to get the fuck out of there.

Wynter’s moodhas completely changed.

She’s no longer the nervous wreck she was in the car this morning on our way here. Her hands are no longer trembling like they were as I walked her down the aisle to our seats for the ceremony. No, this version of Wynter, who’s currently sitting to my left, is carefree, a little careless, and a lot drunk.

We haven’t had a moment alone to talk about what happened earlier, meaning I haven’t had the chance to ask her what the fuck she was thinking, telling her mother, brother, and the rest of my friends that we are together.

The deal we made last night, one I was stupid enough to agree to, was that I’d come as her date to distract everyone from the fact she was not only covered in cuts and bruises and cuts, but visibly traumatized from whatever happened to her before arriving at my doorstep covered in blood. The makeup she’d used concealed almost every bruise, except for the fingers imprinted on her skin, which she hid with the diamond necklace cuffed around her neck.

The way she so expertly covered up the scars makes me wonder if this is something she’s had to do before.

Though what I don’t understand is where the hell she got the idea to tell everyone that we were in a fucking relationship.

Boyfriend. That was the word she’d used. Never had we agreed I’d pretend to be more than her date.

I wouldn’t haven’t accepted the terms of her while lie had she mentioned it before, which is probably why she hadn’t said a word to me since she blurted it out.

Apparently, the four cocktails she consumed before dinner were the liquid courage she needed to let go of whatever washaunting her and holding her back. Because now, she looks exactly like the girl I met three years ago. The girl I barely tolerated, yet couldn’t keep my eyes off of.

“So, tell me again how you started dating my dear brother?” Ruby asks, leaning over me to meet Wynter’s gaze, a mocking hiss in the tone of her voice. Ruby doesn’t seem too convinced by Wynter’s little confession, mainly because she knows I’d never be caught dead dating a Servite. Not that I’d tell her if I did. We’ve never had that type of relationship.

“It just happened,” Wyn says, licking the sugar rim of her cocktail before taking another sip. She twirls the end of her sleek ponytail around her fingers, biting down on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s nervous and I want nothing more than to reach out and lick it to see if she tastes as sweet as her sugary drink.

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