Page 111 of Hunted: Season Two

Yet in the other?

I’m tired of stuff stuck to other stuff it shouldn’t be stuck to.

I miss being able to work comfortably in the living room while binging old sitcoms.

And I don’t know many more headaches I can pretend to have when they start arguing over paint colors – for the vanandthe nursery – before they’re onto me.

My arrival in the garage – to no surprise – isn’t immediately noticed due to Kipp being buried under the hood of Nolan’s tow truck and Nolan unhappily parked behind the wheel. “You’re fuckin’ sure, Kid?”

“I’m sure.”

“Realllllfuckin’ sure?”

“Reallllfuckin’ sure.”

“Reallll, realllllfuckin’ sure?”

“Doesn’t matter how many reals you wanna put on it, I’m fuckin’ sure, Nolan.” All of a sudden, Kipp slams the hood down and plants his palms on top of it. “You checked the fuel gage. I checked the fuel gage. You checked again, and then had me spend hours running diagnostic tests for two days. Everything is coming up clean.” He lets his head fall sympathetically to one side. “You’re stressed about something, and I get the feeling it’s not about your truck, Sir.”

That’s because it’s not.

Not really.

The truck is more like a glaring miscalculation that’s a part of a much bigger equation, which includes being worried that he won’t beherewhen we need him the most.

That shit scares him more than anything to do with Brad who – by the way – has seemingly disappeared again.

Our love letter in bones and camera feed that couldn’t be traced has been followed by silence.

Complete.

And.

Total.

Silence.

Again.

That’swhat’s keepingmeup at night.

His outward tantrums are always more for show.

It’s his quiet calculating ones that typically reveal the real reasons to fear him.

His reach.

His power.

His resolve.

Rather than confess what’s actually troubling him, he kicks his chin in my direction. “Maybe it’s about our woman possibly freezing to death in that outfit.”

Kid whips his head around at the same time I sass, “It’s not even that cold out, Mutt.”

“Not with you wearin’ that, Rabbit.” He gives his collar a playful tug. “Feels like my nuts are being roasted over an open fire.”

“You look incredible, baby,” Kipp properly compliments on a crooked grin. “Like the only thing we want wrapped under our tree.”

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