Page 78 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

My wet face burrows into his shoulder in agreement, but I find it all so backward. These men have all endured unspeakable loss, yet they insist on taking care of me. Gage’s rage makes far more sense.

“What the fuck kind of sissy Mary training is this?” Liam’s voice cuts through our moment, which, by the relieved expressionon Ty’s face when he steps back, is perfect timing. “Looks like you’re good”—he gestures to the knives stuck in the target—“but not tear-worthy, High Society. Maybe we should work on fighting techniques instead of running. Someone needs to toughen you up.”

Ty chuckles and smacks his back. “That’s your funeral, man.”

“Seriously?” Liam’s eyes bulge in incredulous offense. “She could fit in my pocket.”

I scoff. “I am nearly average height.Thanks.And Ty means because Wells said only he trains me to fight.”

“Right. So we don’t get tooclose andpersonal.” He waggles his brows and fingers in flawless synchronicity, which makes me laugh.

Ty looks between us, scratching his chin with a reluctance to leave, but I assure him I’m good, so he hops into the golf cart and heads back.

Liam stares me down for a minute. “Let’s get this over with. There will be no cry-fest for me. It’s clear you had one with Ty. Probably Wells too. My story isn’t sad.”

“Oh. That’s good.” I strut toward the obstacle course, feigning apathy, where we’ll climb the walls, nets, and ropes before our run. “Confusing but good.”

“That’s it?” he balks behind me. “No curiosity?”

I spin. “Didn’t it kill the cat?”

He yanks on my ponytail with a smirk. “Cute.”

“I only want to know if you want me to. I shouldn’t have asked—”

He cuts me short with a firm grip of my chin, although his eyes crease with compassion. “Rough stories, sure, but they wouldn’t tell you if they didn’t want to. Don’t ask Gage. You might not survive.” He drops his hand while still pinning me in place with an odd intensity rolling off him. “But, like I said, mine isn’t so bad. Single mom, died when I was three. Spent my childhood in the system, and then I found these guys.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I take off for the course, mind racing with the inability to adequately process all I’ve learned inone day. I need a quiet minute. My muscles burn, joints aching, as I push myself to scale and swing, jump and crouch. Liam stays in step. He could easily pass me by, but he doesn’t, in case I struggle.

When we both touch ground after using the rope to climb down from the high tower wall, I stop to catch my breath, hands on my hips.

“Just because you don’t have a dramatic moment to mark when you lost everything,” I argue, “doesn’t mean the lack of family is any less tragic.”

He leans into me until I’m pressed against the wall—always pushing the limits of what Wells would appreciate—but the emotion swimming in his eyes cements my stance. “Don’t do that. Don’t pity me for one second. They’re my family.Youare my family. Anything else I want, I take. It doesn’t matter what I didn’t have. It matters what I do.” Not allowing me a chance to tango with the declaration that I’m hisfamily, he steps back and points. “Now, run.”

I flash a teasing smirk, knowing Liam appreciates levity. “Want a head start, black lung?”

“Black lung?” He scoops me up and carries me like a football, trekking a good hundred-yard dash while I howl and smack him, and he chuckles at my pitiful fight—a sight Wells will surely have his head for.

The sky opens up, as if it were working on Wells’s behalf, dumping sheets of rain on us with a booming crack.

“Fuck,” Liam hisses, dropping me on my feet. “Time to shock those tiny lead legs into action, High Society.”

We sprint through the torrential downpour, drenched to the bone by the time we close in on the drained pool, but still laughing like kids. From there, we can see Wells emerge from beneath the slatted pergola in his dress pants and rolled-sleeve button-up, also soaked, heading for us.

Wet and dreamy. Delicious and commanding.

Liam bends toward my ear, speaking over the crashing thunder. “Looks like you’re getting rescued, Ivy. Tomorrow, you’re helping me wreak havoc in the cyber world, right?”

“Can’t wait!” I yell as we navigate the backyard puddles.

“Enjoy your night.”

He winks and splits off as Wells bolts straight for me, hoisting me up so I’m curled around him and darting past the patio. I have no idea why he’s not headed to the closest door, but I bury my face in his neck and don’t ask. He sets me down in front of the side door to the garage.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“This.” His lips collide with mine so fast that I can’t breathe, palms cradling my face for a tangling that heats me, even in the chill of the downpour. He rests his forehead on mine and pants. “You in the rain, smiling, carrying on.Iwant those moments.” And he’s kissing me again.

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