“She’s my mom.” And I’d defend her at any cost.
“She’s your mom,” he repeated. “Absolutely. She gave you life. She changed your diapers, taught you how to tie your shoe, walked you to your first day of school. She did a lot of mom stuff. I get it. You know what else she did, Montana? She left. Of all the decisions she could have made, staying and fighting for you, taking you with her before going into hiding, letting you know she wasn’t dead. None of those qualify as mom stuff.”
I blinked back the burning behind my eyes. Why would he take digs at my mom? What’d she ever do to him? I didn’t know whether to set him on fire to defend her or collapse onto my bed and curl into the fetal position over the truth to his words. Clay didn’t draw these types of emotions from me. This was usually reserved for Bryan. That guy knew how to go right for the feels. Clay usually kept it light. I never had to worry about a serious moment with him.
Until now.
“Why would you say something like that?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“It’s called tough love, Montana. That’s what you do when the stubborn girl you are head over heels for can’t see how miserable she is trying to find something that’s not there.”
“What are you talking about?” I totally knew what he meant, I just didn’t want to believe it. I refused to believe my mom was anything but the kickass superhero I’d made her out to be.
Clay combed his fingers through his wild hair to pull it off his face. It didn’t work, so he gave it the golden Bieber flip. That did the trick. Now I had an up close and direct line of sight to his beautiful, fierce features, which I refused to admit were beautiful or fierce. At least at the moment.
“I’m not saying another word until you let me touch you.”
“Clay, this is not the time—”
“Out,” he said, cutting me off. I frowned, not understanding. “I call timeout.”
“Huh?”
“It’s something my parents do. No matter what they’re talking about, no matter how heated the argument, if one calls a timeout, they both take a pause. It could be for an hour. It could be for a day. They always finish the convo, but taking a timeout lets them cool down and come back with clear heads.”
“We aren’t arguing.”
“If this is you not arguing, you suck at it.”
I called air to bring my shoe back. It landed in my hand. “And I’m not taking a timeout.”
To my shock, he used his primary to have the air slide me across the floor and push me into his arms. He caught me and held me close, our lips inches apart. With an intense look that hit me deep in my feels, he declared, “I need to touch you.”
“Are you seriously this horny right now?”
“No. I mean, yes. I’m a guy, so that’s like asking me if I’m hungry. But no. I need to touch you, push my control to you. Know why?” He circled his nose around mine, keeping our lips a whisper apart. I smelled the hunger on his breath. “Because you seem to forget how much power you have, Montana. I’m not just talking about the fact you’re a quint plus one. You’ve got an army of powerful elementals behind you. When are you going to learn to stop fighting your guys? I told you before. We made a pact to be with you, protect you together. It takes all of us. All five of us as partners. We can’t protect you if you’re not willing to let us.”
“I don’t need anyone to protect me.” And I didn’t appreciate him making this about our bond as a unit. This was about him saying something I didn’t appreciate and now attempting to cover it up with some shit about a timeout. I tried to push out of his hold, but he tightened his embrace. Then again, I didn’t try all that hard.
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re so, so wrong.” He nipped at my lower lip. “You need it more than you know.”
“If this is another sexual reference, I’m kneeing you in the jewels.”
“God, you are so sexy when you talk about my junk.”
I couldn’t stop the stupid giggle from bubbling out. Dammit. There went any credibility. “Okay, fine. We’ll take a timeout. But we’re not done talking about this.”
“I totally expect you’ll find a way to win the argument. You always do.” He stole a quick kiss before releasing me and went for his clothes, reluctantly dressing. “Although, technically, we weren’t arguing. I said shit about your mom you didn’t like. Period. The end. It’s not like I said anything untrue.”
Oh, no he didn’t. Them’s fighting words. “Time in.”
He paused, one foot halfway into a sock. “Huh?”
“You called timeout. I’m calling time in.”
Shaking his head, he snapped his brow—which still wasn’t beautiful or fierce, for the record—into a frown. “You don’t get to call time in. Only the time outter gets to call the time inner.”
“How’s that fair?”
“Who said anything about fair?”
“Oh my God. You are being so childish.” I stomped my foot.
“I’m being childish?”
“Yes.” I took a step toward him, ready to defend my stance. “She’s stubborn, sure. It runs in the family. She knows what she wants and commits. She doesn’t give two shits about what other people think. It’s her life to live. To hell with the people who don’t get it.”
Clay stared at me for several seconds. I dropped my gaze when the contact grew too intense. “Are you describing your mom? Or you?”
“I…” didn’t know how to answer that. No, that wasn’t true. I knew how to answer that, I just didn’t like the answer. Since suddenly returning to my life, my mom had
