Nate’s jaw clenches, and then he presses his lips to mine. “No, baby. I couldn’t save you with this one.”
Tears pour out from me, my face falling. “I saw you both have a fight in front of me in Perdita!”
Nate licks his lips. “I’ve not spoken to him, babe. How could I?”
My shoulders slump, the tears free-falling. “I’ve gone crazy.”
“No,” Brantley murmurs from behind Nate. “You’re not crazy, little terror. You’re human. You reached for something that you knew would help you. Some take drugs, alcohol, sex.” He grins, kicking Nate. “You reached for love. That doesn’t make you crazy. That makes you human.”
Another round of tears come, but I end up choking on my sobs, falling forward and landing in Nate’s chest. “He’s really not alive?”
Nate shakes his head, kissing the top of my head. “No.”
I grip onto his soaked T-shirt, and we sit there for another twenty minutes in the pouring rain while I mourn my Thirteen crush. My crush who has been there for me more times than anyone ever has. Even dead, his spirit was an anchor for me.
I wipe my face with Nate’s shirt, finally leaning back and expecting The Kings to be gone, but they’re not. They’re still standing where I left them twenty minutes ago, drenched from the rain.
“Say her name, baby,” Nate whispers in my ear, kissing me gently.
“Micaela.”
Nate
I pick her up from under her legs and carry her back to Brantley’s car, shutting the door behind her. Tillie needed someone to help her mend. Because sometimes you do need someone in order to heal. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a weakness to need another human. It’s humanity, and it’s Tillie. She’s fucking strong, but she’s human.
“She’s going to be okay?” Bishop asks, watching me carefully.
“Yeah, she is. Now I don’t feel so fucked up from doing that.” I unlock the handcuffs around her wrists and toss them onto the ground.
“Oh come on. It was like old times.” Brantley smirks.
I glare at him. “Until the part that I had to break her open and watch her heart snap in front of my very eyes, over another man, nonetheless.”
Brantley stiffens. “Yeah, I see your point.”
Fucker.
“Good. Because we have another issue,” Bishop mutters, shoving his hands in his pocket.
“What else could possibly go fucking wrong?” Brantley exhales, leaning on his car. “We still haven’t dealt with your old man, and then there’s The Rebels coming on hard with Tillie, her and Madison whacking off Madison’s side piece, and then there’s that book.”
“—Madison has run.”
I sigh, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in. I can’t deal with Madison’s dramatics. If she has run, then I’m not chasing her ass down. Tillie is all I give a fuck about right now. Brantley follows, rounding the car and slipping into the driver’s seat. I run my fingers through my hair, squeezing the water out.
“Everything okay?” Tillie asks from the back. I’m done with lying to her about fucking everything, so I turn in my seat and look her square in the eyes.
“Madison has run.”
Tillie blinks a few times, and then she sighs. “Can everyone meet at Brantley’s? I have something to tell you all.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah.”
Not only did it not send her over the edge into a spiral, but she knows something that we don’t?
Brantley throws me a side eye, and then we’re boosting forward and out of the cemetery. I press my fingers to my lips and throw up deuces in the direction on the Malum plot where my baby girl lays. Brantley rips up the back tires and takes us out onto the main road. One day we will come back here together to see Micaela. But just not right now.
Nate
I take a seat on one of the chairs that surround the main dining room of Brantley’s house. I watch as all The Kings fall to their chairs, Bishop at the head of the table, me at his right and Brantley at his left. The whole drive back here, my mind has been racing about what Tillie might want to say. I spread my legs wide and lean to the side, my finger running over my upper lip. I watch her closely as she paces back and forth like a caged lion. Left, to right, to left, back to right. Once we’re all seated, she exhales.
“I have something to tell you all and Bishop, please understand why I couldn’t say something earlier.”
I feel my brows crease as I pin her with a glare. Her eyes meet mine, glassing over in what I can only explain as apologetically.
I look to my lap.
She tilts her head in question.
My lip kicks up in a smirk as I nod to my lap again.
She gets it, and like a good little girl, she slowly makes her way around the table. Don’t get it twisted, Tillie is not obedient by any means, but I know when she needs me, and right now, she needs me. I push my seat back with my legs, the sound of the stilts scraping against the hardwood floor squeaking through the tension. She sinks into my lap, resting on top of my cock. I fight a groan, my fist coming to my mouth. Brantley kicks my leg from opposite me and I wink at him, blowing a kiss.
“As you were saying, Princessa,” Bishop murmurs, pouring another glass of whiskey and sliding it over to her. She takes it, her hair dropping low as she shoots it back. My eyes cross as I fight thoughts of wrapping her long strands around my fist and bending her over this table, fucking her little cun—
“Madison was raped,” Tillie whispers from on top of me.
I freeze, now fighting the urge to do some jerk notion like pushing her off my lap and raging.
“What!” Bishop snaps, pushing the chair back and glaring at Tillie.
Tillie stands up from my lap, but my arm
