Page 57 of Pucking Obsessed

“In a box hidden in the back of my closet,” he says, his tone clipped.

“Fuck,” I mutter. Whoever’s behind this has been in our house and had enough time to rifle through shit.

“It doesn’t mean they have access now,” Callum says, shoving the knife into his pocket. “It could’ve been taken months ago, and I wouldn’t have noticed. Could be someone we willingly brought in.”

We don’t bring anyone into the house, that’s the thing. Tristan would prefer if he never had to speak to another human besides Winter, and I sure as fuck am not bringing randos over to hour house. Callum used to have big parties when Tristan and I were out of town, but the last one was a few weeks before my mother’s murder.

“Did Dawson and Kyle ever come to those parties you used to have at the house? I don’t see another time frame where anyone could have had access. No one broke in, we’ve got that shit locked down.”

“You look like you’re about to explode,” Callum says, his tone lighter now. “Calm down. We don’t know who’s watching us.” He sighs before telling me, “Kyle, yeah. I don’t know about Dawson. Some of the football guys showed up, but I don’t know who.”

I grumble, running a hand through my hair. “I just wanted to admire my fucking girlfriend in peace.”

Callum chuckles at my annoyance. “So, it’s official?”

I roll my eyes, refusing to dignify his question with an answer. It’s been official for me since the second I laid eyes on Madison. Hell, I've had a ring for her for so long, evenIknow it’s psychotic. But like with everything else, now isn’t the time. We need to find the guy from the attack and put him out of his misery because I’m sick of this shit.

When I look up, Madison is jogging toward us, her smile so wide it lights up the entire field. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, and my arms lock around her instinctively.

“Missed you!” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before glancing at Callum. “Hi, Callum.”

He waves at her lazily and grins at me because he knows I don’t like the way his name sounds on her lips. I’m tired from the other outburst I’ve had in the last few minutes, so I let it slide because she feels fucking good in my arms. “I missed you more,” I murmur, burying my face in her neck and breathing her in. She wiggles slightly, her silent signal for me to set her down, and I do, reluctantly.

“Something’s up,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “You guys can’t fool me. What happened?”

“Callum was targeted,” I start, but Callum cuts me off.

“Is Kirsten here?” he asks, his voice sharper now. “I didn’t see her out there with you.”

Madison shakes her head. “Coach asked me to text her, but she didn’t answer or pick up when I called.”

I vaguely remember talking to her. “She said something about going home for a few days because of the Bethany stuff,” I say, shrugging because I know I’m an asshole for literally turning off my ears when my sister speaks. “She called me while I was in the gym last night. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Mom and your dad are on vacation, so there’s no one there with her if she went home,” Madison says, and I can hear the concern she has even though Kirsten has been a dick to her on occasion. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“No idea,” I reply, pulling her close and squeezing her against me.

“She’s probably safer there than here,” Callum says. “They already showed her video, so I doubt they’d go after her again.”

Callum’s phone buzzes, and he glances at the screen before looking back up. “Winter and Tristan are saving us seats at the dining hall for dinner.”

“Great,” I say, kissing the top of Madison’s head and threading my fingers through her hair. “Let’s grab your stuff, and we’ll head over.”

Madison is next to me at the table, her shoulder brushing my outer arm as she takes her bow out. She hands it to me without a word, because I am the keeper of such things. It’s because I’m her person, her everything, and definitely not because that little cheerleading skirt doesn’t have pockets. I watch as she lets her hair loose over her shoulders. My arm is over the back of her chair, which allows my fingers to tangle in it. It’s just not enough. I let my hand move down, fingers brushing her bare thigh under the table. Her skin is warm and soft, and the small twitch of her lips when I tighten my grip makes me happy.

She turns her head just slightly, her lips quirking into a smile. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she murmurs teasingly.

“Do you need a reminder of what I will and won’t do in public?” I reply, squeezing her thigh.

Her cheeks flush, and that’s enough for me to scoot her chair back. I pull her on my lap and bury my face in her hair. I try to inhale as much of her sweet scent as my lungs will hold. I would burn the whole world to ashes just to do this one more time. I don’t give a fuck what’s going on or where we are. I need this right now. I need her.

When I come up for air, across the table, Callum is in the middle of one of his stories, waving a fork like it’s a weapon, his backwards hat crooked on his head.

“I’m telling you, I could’ve taken him,” he says, stabbing the air with the fork. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but with Callum it could be a bear, bigfoot, or a fucking wombat. I sigh, because I feel like I’m going to find out, and all information I’ve learned about Callum has been against my will.

“You couldn’t,” Tristan says without looking up from the book Winter is showing him, his voice as flat as ever.

Callum scowls. “You weren’t even there.”

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