Page 39 of Loving Trent
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you wait in the truck while I get Shawn?” Harley nods before wrapping her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I squeeze her back just as tight, and once she lets me go, I head inside to find my guy. I see him sitting at the table, looking over a stack of papers with a pained look on his face.
“What has you looking like you’re in pain?” I ask, not breaking my stride forward.
Shawn looks up at the sound of my voice, and his cheeks start turning pink. His eyes rake over my shirt and jeans quickly before he averts them to look back at the papers. “Um… it’s nothing,” he says and starts to gather them up.
I reach out, place my hand in the middle of the papers, and push them back to the table. I quickly scan them and see that they are a mix of bank statements, end-of-shift reporting, and work schedules. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
God, that broken sound is back in his voice. The one that was there last night when he said he needed me to hold him, and it fucking kills me. “Don’t hide from me,” I demand, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the chair. He’s sitting so close to the table that the chair falls over, and the sound of it hitting the floor echoes around us. I let go of his hands and cradled his face in my hands. His green eyes are wide, and his brows have almost entirely disappeared; they are that high up on his forehead. “Go grab your coat and whatever you need. I’ll pack these up for us to look at later.”
“But… I don’t know you.”
I smirk at him, knowing that his statement is not a hundred percent correct. “Don’t be so sure about that. Just do what I said.” His eyes give him away that he is asking himself a million different questions and trying to figure out why he should follow my orders. I step closer to him until I’m pressed up against his stunning body. “Do you trust me?”
“I shouldn’t.” For the first time since his attack, I see a hint of fire in his green eyes, and I fucking want to feed that fire.
“But you do. Which is why you are going to stop questioning everything and just do as I told you.” I lean my face closer so my lips will brush against his when I speak again. “Like the good boy you are.” Shawn whimpers, and I feel his dick twitch againstmine, and I smile before releasing him. My lips tingle, and the ache to finally taste him fully tugs at my chest.
I turn around and start gathering his papers, feeling his eyes devouring me. I clear my throat, and that gets him moving. He races around me and into the bedroom where he is staying. A second later, he walks out with his coat on and, surprisingly, his bag in his hand. After placing the last piece of paper in the folder, I tuck it under my arm and stride forward. I hold out my hand and say, “Let me take that from you.”
Shawn places the bag strap in my outstretched hand, never taking his eyes off my face. I interlace my free hand with his and pull him toward the front door. Before pulling open the door, I pause and look around the living room. I’m not sure I will ever be able to tell Nana what this place came to mean to me. It was the first place besides Uncle Joey’s house that I felt at home. I shake my head and tighten my hold on Shawn’s hand, needing his strength for just a second, then I open the door and step outside. I walk Shawn to the truck’s passenger side, never letting go of him. Harley’s eyes are bouncing between our joined hands and our faces as a smile spreads on her face, lighting up her eyes. I open the door for him, and once he is situated inside, I take it another step and buckle him in. I ignore the surprised look on his face and his sharp intake of air, or else Harley might see something that will scar her for life. I place his bag in the back seat before getting in myself and pulling out of the drive.
“Where are we headed?” Shawn asks, playing with the seatbelt across his chest.
“Our house. All of the furniture is being delivered today,” Harley answers from the backseat.
I reach over and lay my hand on his thigh. “Nervous?”
Shawn laughs, but it’s not the deep-throat laugh I’ve heard while watching him. “What’s there to be nervous about?”
It’s easy to tell he is being sarcastic, but I choose to ignore it. “That’s the spirit. There is nothing to be worried about.” Shawn puts his hand over mine and interlaces our fingers. Doing that shouldn’t mean as much as it does. It definitely shouldn’t be putting a strain on my zipper, but I’ve been craving the feel of this man for so long that a brush of his finger gets me hard.
Thankfully, Harley pulls Shawn into a conversation about some TV show they both like, and the more they talk, the more his body relaxes. I turn down the street our house is on, and when Harley points out our home, she asks, “Who is sitting in the driveway?”
“That’s my Uncle Joey. I asked him to bring my stuff from our house in Branson.”
Uncle Joey is standing next to his truck, watching us, and just the sight of him makes my heart pitch forward. I feel homesick, and I realize just how much I missed him. “Does he know about me?” Harley asks.
Shawn looks over his shoulder at her, then at me, and finally out the window at Uncle Joey. “Not yet, but that is another reason for him being here.” My eyes meet hers in the review mirror as I slowly pull into the drive. “We will tell him whatever you feel comfortable with, but remember you aren’t going anywhere. I promise you that he will love you.” I turn my attention to Shawn and say, “And don’t you worry, the same goes for you.”
Uncle Joey walks around the front of the truck. His blue eyes are on me, and a questioning look is on his face. He pulls open my door, and I’m out of the truck with my arms wrapped around him in a second. I lift him into the air and smile when he grunts and smacks me on the arm. “Put me down. Just because you’re bigger than me doesn’t mean I can’t kick your ass.”
I set him back on his feet but keep on hugging him. “I missed you, old man.”
“I missed you, too. Who is with you?”
“I’ll explain when we get inside.” I let him go and hand him the keys to the house. “Mind unlocking the door, and we will be right in.”
He shoots me a look that clearly says he isn’t happy. How do I know? I’ve seen it many, many times over the years I’ve lived with him. I leave him and walk around to open Shawn’s and Harley’s doors. They both step out but make no move toward the house, which I don’t like. Are they worried that I would put them in an unsafe environment? With the attack on Shawn and Harley’s past, it's possible, and knowing that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. “I promise that nothing bad will happen to either of you. At any time either of you feels unsafe, I will ask him to leave.”
“You would ask your uncle to leave before allowing us to leave?” Shawn asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Yes.” I hold out my hands for both of them to take, and they do.
It’s a little awkward walking through the door, but we manage. The inside of the house is warm thanks to the central heating system. Uncle Joey isn’t in the living room, but I hear him at the back of the hall, in the master bedroom, by the sound of it. “We will have to sit on the floor for now,” I say, pulling off my jacket and folding it before placing it on the floor. I kick off my shoes and put them next to Uncle Joey’s. Shawn and Harley follow my lead and follow me into the living room.
