Page 37 of Hunted, Season Three

Pleased and eager for more gnarls escape Kipp and I in unison; however, our boyfriend pauses the follow through to fetch his vibrating phone from his pocket.

One swipe is all it takes to reveal whatever was just sent.

And whatever was just sent instantly drains all the color from his scruff covered face prompting Kid to cautiously inquire, “What is it?”He cleans his lips with a hasty swipe.“Whois it?”

“Garcia.”

Kipp prepares to pout only to have it interrupted by the text being turned to face us.

Garcia: Santa isn’t the only one coming to town.

Chapter 8

Nolan

Demián Garcia places another ice-cold Guinness down on the coaster in front of me during his trek back to his leather seat beside his wife.“Niñosare up, yeah?”

Garcia and Val – who are sitting side by side on stools directly across from us – playfully glare at one another, yet it’s her that snaps first.“Don’t fuck this up for us again.”

“Me?!”croaks my other best friend between sips of tequila.“You’re the one who can’t fucking draw!”

“You’re the one who can’t fucking guess!”

“How am I supposed to fucking guess right when you can’t fucking draw?!”

“Great gift,” Demián happily chortles in our direction.“This is my favorite part of the holiday.”

My boyfriend struggles not to smirk as he inquires, “Watchin’ your kids fight?”

“Absolutely.”A casual sip of his own tequila is had.“I’d rather them engaged in the same activity than separately looking at their phones, counting down the seconds until they can be with other people.”

“You mean like they do at all theotherfamily dinners,” Eva Garcia less than quietly sasses, brown stare homed in on her arguing children.

I miss this shit.

I miss them bickering.

Their parents laughing or pouring fuel on the fire.

Usually pouring fuel on the fire.

I miss hearing the mixture of English and Spanish and Spanglish and something else I never understood.

Kinda think its their own made-up family brand language.

Or maybe it’s whatever Eva is descended from.

Brazilian, I think?

Whatever it is I’m glad to hear it again.

Shit…I’m honestly just glad that we’re here.

That the family I’m trying to build is finally meeting the one that taught me how to stay alive.

That this is where we’re spending Christmas night.

And where I’ll propose.

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