Page 50 of Finding Fate

"Is that a joke, Pops?"

My lips pull up in a smile matching his. Until the hand at my cheek settles beneath my chin and tips my head back so my gaze meets his once again.

"I've done a lot of shitty things in my life, but the one thing I've never done, never thought about doing, is cheat. I've been on the other side of it and it fucking sucks. But, Pops... what in the hell do I do now?"

"What?" I rasp. "What are you—"

The pressure of his lips against my forehead stops my words. The loss of his arms, of his body pressed against mine turns everything from fire-hot to ice-cold.

He keeps my confused stare as he retreats one step, then another.

Unsure of what to do, how to act, I wrap my arms around my middle and turn. Embarrassed hot tears slip from the corners of my closed lids.

"What’s... what's going to happen now?"

"I get my ass back to my side before I do something I'll regret."

Right. Of course he would regret me. A silent sob shakes my shoulders.

"Hey, I didn't mean...." A frustrated groan rattles off the boards. "Hey, I...."

My skin sizzles at the touch of his fingers against mine, but instead of giving in, I jerk my hand away.

His sigh brushes over the top of my head, but still I don't turn, not until I hear the door swish open—only to find Nash is the one who opened it.

"Where are you—" I don't get a chance to finish before he's out the door and striding to his side.

Shouts ring out among the men, but Nash doesn't take notice. In fact, it seems he's taunting them, standing outside his door with those inked arms crossed over his chest. I watch in horror, fingers gripping the wooden planks, as four men rush toward him.

Nash doesn't move.

The first man who attacks loses his balance, his fist missing the mark as Nash ducks. In two quick moves, the man is on the ground, though two more quickly take his place.

One after another, they come after him only to be brushed off like annoying gnats. Soon all four lie moaning in the dirt. Other men around camp take notice of the situation and come running, but Nash turns, steps into his cage, and closes the door. Without even a side glance my way, he falls against the closed door, chest heaving, blood pouring from his nose, and closes his eyes.

"Do me a favor, Pops. Put that damn thing back on."

"What? You have to be fucking kidding me. This whole—"

"Just do it. Please, dammit."

Through the rustle of the material, I swear he grumbles, "Fuck, I'm in deep shit."

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