Page 36 of Protector

But now we’re stuck in school, and I’m just waiting for the last bell of the day to ring. Of course when it does, it’s straight to practice where we run hard. Coach is in a good mood. I swear I even saw him smile once or twice, but that doesn’t mean he goes any easier on us.

We all want to make it to state this year or at least as close as we can get. You don’t get there by slacking off. Still when we drag our tired ass bodies in from outside, I can’t keep my eyes off him.

I have to actively remind myself that a locker room full of our teammates is not the time or place to figure out what this thing between us is. Thankfully, most are busy talking about how we’re going to kick ass at the game on Friday.

I quickly shower and change, but it’s like my brain is a melted pile of goo. I mean, how did we get here? I came out to him, and then my brain went on overdrive, thinking about him being okay with it and letting myself indulge in the fantasy of having Adam...

But I never thought I could have him.

Not like that.

Not for real.

And now, I’m still not sure. Do I want him? Of course I do. I think I have for a really long time, but I just didn’t let myself go there.

He pulls his shirt on over his head, and then those blue eyes are on me again. He doesn’t look upset that my eyes seem to be glued to him. Not at all. If anything, he looks amused.

I can deal with that.

“How about we go pick up the girls and head to my place? That algebra test is going to kill me,” he says loudly—I’m assuming loud enough for anyone around us to hear.

I nod in agreement, but I hope we aren’t actually going to study. His grades are just fine. We pull our coats on and head out, picking up my sisters from their after-school programs and heading out to his farm.

He’s in his truck behind us, and when we park, the girls are both out of my truck and running toward the house before I even climb out. It’s good to see them like this. So excited and happy to be in a home.

Not our home though. I have to remind myself of that. And I wonder if I should remind them too, but I don’t want to take away this joy they have.

“You okay?” Adam’s voice comes from beside me, and I look over at him.

“Your parents are really good.”

He smiles at that and shrugs. His brothers don’t go to the after-school programs and ride the bus home from school. I can already hear their loud booming voices inside the house. I wonder if this is what our lives would have been like if our dad wouldn’t have died.

Would we have been excited to come home after school? Would our house have been loud and warm. Comfortable. Would my sisters run around without a care in the world?

“Zach.” Adam nudges me with his elbow. “They’re good parents and good people. I mean, they’ve messed up plenty. They’re human, but they’re good, and you and your sisters are safe here.”

My eyes close slowly, and I nod because I know wearesafe here. It’s harder and harder to leave this place. “How are you gonna move out?” I try to joke when I open my eyes. “I mean, who the hell is going to wash your dirty socks and feed your big ass.”

He chuckles. “Always thinking about my ass.”

I mean... yeah. But I can’t believe he’s joking about that and seems totally unbothered. I’m a little stunned but then shrug with a smirk. “Can you blame me?”

“Nope.” He winks at me. “Let’s go.”

He starts to walk off, but I catch his elbow, and he stops. “Are you really going to move out?”

It’s always been the plan. Not far though. His family has already started to build a modest house for him on this very land. The foundation is already poured, and I’ve spent some time helping his dad and Adam work on the structure over the summer. “Of course. But don’t worry, my mom will still do my laundry if I need it. Or I’ll force you to.”

He laughs and punches me in the arm before he starts toward the house again, and I follow him. He’s in a really damn good mood today—playful, and I like it. I follow him through the front door and greet his parents and brothers, but Adam must already have a plan because he’s heading toward his room.

“We’re going to go study, Mom. Let us know when it’s time for dinner.”

“Oh, no problem. I live to serve!” his mother shouts down the hall as I follow Adam and snicker.

“You’re lucky she doesn’t poison your food.”

We go into his room, and he closes the door—locking it with a click. He peels off his coat and tosses it on a chair by his desk, rubbing over his stomach. “That must be why I haven’t been feeling so great.”

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