Page 71 of Cannon
I nod, my jaw tightening. “Th-they called me a freak. Spaz. Twitch.” I pause, wrestling with whether to tell her more, and finally decide. “Break-dancer. Jerk. Julius Seizure.” My chest clenches, and I know she can feel it.
Her lips part, and she blinks rapidly. “That must have been terrible.”
I work my jaw back and forth, noting the tears in her eyes. “It was worse than I’ll ever admit.” Thinking back to those days in school where I was bullied so badly, I didn’t think I’d make it. “And I… just stopped.”
She reaches up, lightly brushing the hair from my eyes. “You were done.”
I nod once, slowly, and she lowers her head, tucking her face into the hollow space beside my neck.
We stay in exactly that position for so long, I think she must have fallen asleep until she whispers, “You’re safe with me, Cannon.”
I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight, confident she understands all the words I want to say but can’t.
THIRTY-TWO
ARCHER
Around two in the morning,Kingston pokes his head in my room. “You never fuckin’ sleep, do you?”
I shrug from my bed, but wave him in. “I don’t know why you’re even bothering to ask. You know it’s the truth.” I quirk my brow at him. “And speaking of, you look like you could use some sleep yourself.” He looks exhausted, strain evident around his eyes and in the way his hair is ruffled. It’s as if he’s spent the time since punching Bridger with his hands tugging at his hair in frustration.
My brain clicks and whirs as it hits me that my friend was looking for an excuse to come in here—not that he needs one. He’s hung out in my room a million times. But I get it. It’s different now, and that feels strange, but… in a good way.
Kingston approaches the bed, tanned and muscular, in a pair of joggers riding low on his hips. My eyes drink him in. I’m so distracted, I almost miss it when he nods his head toward the iPad on my lap. “What are you looking at?”
My lips twitch in amusement.As if he doesn’t know.“Fuck, you’re asking some obvious questions tonight,” I mumble, arching my brow at him as I lift the tumbler of whiskey I’ve been sipping to my lips. “But, to answer your question, after the debacle downstairs earlier, I watched everyone. You know, just to see who went where and with whom.”
His head cocks to the side. “Anything interesting?”
I glance back at the screen. “Depends on what you think is interesting, I suppose. Dane, Zeke, and Taggart bailed fucking fast—all three went directly to their bedrooms.”
“Makes sense. They don’t want any part of this BS.” Kingston points to the empty space on my bed. “Can I sit with you?”
I nod, my brain scattering a bit. Once again, it strikes me how our relationship is slowly morphing into something new. While it’s not unusual for Kingston to hang around my room, he’s never once asked for permission to sit on my bed. He’d have simply done it. But we’ve also sure as fucknotspent alone time together after kissing in front of the entire brotherhood before.
While my mind is busy processing all this newness, he climbs onto the bed and settles in beside me. There’s a sudden massive pressure in my chest, squeezing the fuck out of my heart. I take a deep breath, hoping it’ll let up, but it doesn’t do a lot of good. The same painful ache is present, especially when I make the mistake of letting my eyes wander to Kingston’s sculpted chest and abs again. I don’t dare look lower.
He points at the camera feed for the basement living area. “Can you go back so I can see what happened there?”
“Sure.” I zoom backward in time until Alec, Joel, and Stuart come onto the screen carrying Bridger’s drunk ass. “Watch this.” I can’t help the smirking chuckle that spills from my lips when I flip to the camera feed showing Bridger’s room. They dump him unceremoniously on top of his bed. A moment later, a water bottle comes flying into the room like a rocket and hits Bridger square on his ass before it rolls onto the bed beside him. He doesn’t even flinch. He’s out cold.
Kingston snorts with laughter. “Oh fuck. Who did that, do you know?”
I grin, casting my gaze toward my friend, and somehow get lost in tracing the contours of his mouth with my eyes and imagining what it would be like to fuck it. I blink, yanking myself from unholy thoughts to answer. “That mean bastard, Stuart. I checked. After that, the three of them headed out toward the pool with beer, and I thought I’d be able to listen in on whatever they were saying, but they kept walking. Headed out toward the creek, I think.”
“That’s too bad.” Kingston rubs his palm absentmindedly over his knuckles, which are still pink and scabbed over in spots. “Well, at the very least, I think it’s fair to say no one is really excited about drunken Bridger or his antics.”
“You okay or do you need me to play doctor again?” I gesture toward his hand, remembering clearly that it was just days ago that I patched up his split and bleeding knuckles. He’d let me stand so close. And I had no idea at the time that it meant anything to him. Maybe it didn’t. Fucked if I know.
“I’m good. His fleshy face wasn’t nearly as bad as the pounding I gave the wall. Still gotta get that fixed, by the way. Sorry.” His lips quirk into a half smile as he studies me with his astute gaze. “You seem like something else is bothering you.”
And there goes my heart again, tearing free of whatever was holding it and taking off like a wild stallion. It races and bucks around in my chest and has me utterly at a loss for words. Because part of what’s got my mind going nonstop is my hot-as-fuck friend. I can’t tell him all the thoughts in my head, but maybe I can skirt close to the truth. Rubbing my hand over my pec, I silently beg the muscle in my chest to calm. “I listened to some of the conversation in the basement once Bridger finally made it back.” I tap my fingers on top of the iPad, pursing my lips. “There was some stuff he said that has me on edge—”
I’m on the verge of saying more, questioning why Bridger knows anything about last year in the first fucking place—thanks to Alec and his loose lips, no doubt—when Kingston holds out a hand to stop me.
His voice is rough as he turns his head to look me square in the eye. There’s a startling heat in the gorgeous green of his gaze. “Let’s not fuckin’ go there right now. It’s late.” His jaw muscle twitches a few times as we continue to stare at each other. He shifts in the blink of an eye, getting off the bed and taking my empty glass with him as he crosses to the bottle of whiskey that sits on my desk.
With his broad back to me, I’m free to explore the play of his muscles as he pours what seems like more than two fingers into the glass before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and close the distance between us. His eyes watch my every move as I pluck the glass out of his hold and take a drink for myself.
