Chapter 5

Kate

It’s a kiss that’s not quite a kiss because Marlowe … isn’t kissing back.

His eyes are wide, his fingers tight on Miriam’s pale skin. He shoves her back a step and releases her, holding his palms up to either side in warning.

“I told you not to touch me,” he growls, turning his head slightly and spitting like he’s disgusted. Right there on the floor. Typical witch, eh? He runs his arm across his mouth and sneers at his childhood friends.

When Marlowe’s dark eyes meet Dennis’ brown ones, the energy in the room shifts like a storm.

“Sorry, Kate,” Marlowe murmurs absently, that same simmering anger in his eyes. If he’s angry with Miriam, he’s even angrier with Dennis. But not with me for once. “She surprised me with that. And hello, Dennis.”

Miriam … was kissing him? I don’t know how to react. It’s clear that Lo isn’t interested in kissing her, but what the hell? Marlowe is … He violated me. He forced me into this. He’s … he’s …

The only person allowed to kiss him is me. Aren’t I owed at least that much?

I could slap Miriam. I want to. I do. But I also believe that she ambushed him. Marlowe was with her for years. As far as I know, she was his only girlfriend. He might be a monster, but he’s a loyal one. He felt like a cheater just being with me, even knowing that twenty years had passed and that Miriam had abandoned him.

What a shockingly good quality for such a rude, bitchy, curmudgeonly jerk.

“You …” Dennis doesn’t move, just stands there in the doorway with his arms dangling on either side of him, boneless. He looks like he was just hit by a truck. “You … I don’t … Lo. ”

The tension is enough to give me goose bumps.

Dennis is in his forties now, looking more like Marlowe’s dad than his friend. It’s a strange, uncomfortable sight. Proof of dark magic. The terrible price of time. These three were really close. To Marlowe, they were really close eight months ago.

To his friends …

Miriam makes a sound, turning away from the pair of them.

This feels like an incredibly intimate situation that I shouldn’t be a part of. I don’t know these people or their history. But I’m here. I’m … if I’m trying to make Marlowe mine, then I’m stuck in this.

“He doesn’t want to stay here. He doesn’t want anything to do with us.” Miriam whispers this without looking back, and something about her words sends Dennis into a rage. He flies at Marlowe like he wants to kill him.

For whatever reason, Marlowe allows Dennis to grab his shoulders and throw him into the wall. It’s comical, with how massive Lo is now. Dennis wouldn’t stand a chance if Marlowe put up any resistance at all.

I know better than most.

“How dare you?” Dennis whispers, eyes tearing up. “How dare you?” he screams, and Marlowe closes his eyes against his own rage. “You’re trying to fuck around with my family and ruin my life. Get out of my house. Get out. ”

It’s a jumbled mess of shit that devolves even further when Brooks and Tanner enter the room. The latter is eating another sandwich.

“She was kissing him,” I whisper, and Brooks sighs like he’s tired. If he had his hat on, the eyes would all squeeze shut, crinkling the black fabric.

“Now who’s dragging the coven around by the dick?” Brooks mumbles, rubbing his forehead. The comment is enough to make me laugh, but I don’t dare. Not here. I slip a hand over my mouth.

“Dennis, stop,” Miriam murmurs, grabbing onto her husband’s arm. That only makes things worse, and then Dennis is yelling in Marlowe’s face again.

“My friend is dead , you hear me? No amount of makeup and bullshit is going to convince me otherwise.”

“You are one dumb, stupid fuck, always have been,” Marlowe hisses, stepping forward and forcing Dennis back a few steps. Lo’s friend adjusts his glasses, his shoulder now pressed to Miriam’s. “You know that it’s me. You fucking know it. The only reason you’re playing this game is because you don’t want to admit that you knowingly and willingly left me there. Were you happy that I disappeared, because you finally got to have Miriam to yourself? You two were so distraught that you decided to bareback bang each other in my memory? Please.”

Dennis is just staring at his friend now, and I can tell that, like with Miriam, he doesn’t need any convincing. Sometimes, you just know a person so well that you’d never mistake them for anyone else. There are no games to be played; these two people know Marlowe inside and out.

“It wasn’t like that, Lo,” Miriam tells him, but Dennis interrupts, shoving his way between her and Marlowe.

“Why are you here? And why now?” Dennis whispers, his own voice crackling with anger. “My entire life revolved around your disappearance. I couldn’t ever be anything but Marlowe Waverley’s friend in Humboldt County. And I could never leave Humboldt County because we had to stay near that stupid tree. My life was ruined when you disappeared.”

Ouch.

There’s a long stretch of awkward silence; the only sounds are harsh breathing and Tanner licking his fingers. I can see his shadow on the wall, long curled tongue wrapping his silhouette’s eerie clawed digits. The sight gives me the chills, but in a good way.

“What a homecoming this is.” Marlowe curls his lip, gathering shadows around him and dousing the sunshine that’s peeking through the sheer curtains. “You’re standing here and chastising me for what happened?”

“Fuck you, Lo!” Dennis is screaming now. “You’re the one that wanted to test the legend out. You have nobody to blame but yourself. Get out of my house. Out! I’m calling the police.” He has his phone in shaking hands when Brooks steps in and snags him by the shoulder, shoving him up against the wall as Miriam gasps in shock.

The phone clatters to the floor as Brooks digs into his pocket and tugs out a charm.

“You’re a grown-ass man, Dennis,” Brooks chastises, uncorking the tiny bottle with his teeth. He spits the cork out, sending it bouncing across the floor. An antlered shadow rises above him in triumph. “But if you want to act like a child, I can treat you like one.”

“Wait.” Marlowe has his hand on Brooks’ arm, stopping him before he can toss the glittery powder in Dennis’ face. Lo is panting, eyes wide with too much white. His shadow has its head thrown back in a silent howl, bat wings stretching across the walls. “Don’t you dare, Brooks. I mean it. This time, I fucking mean it .”

“Too bad that you don’t have a choice.” Brooks jerks his arm from Marlowe’s grasp. It takes some effort, but he’s able to manage it. Doesn’t seem to expect me to hop in between him and Dennis though.

“Don’t, Brooks,” I tell him, as gently as I can. He can be the leader for our coven. Fine. I want him to be the leader for our coven. But this isn’t a coven thing. This is all about Marlowe.

Brooks studies the vial in his hand and then squats down for the cork, putting it back in place as he stands up.

“You have five minutes to finish this,” Brooks says mildly, and then he steps aside to wait. Tanner has positioned himself between Miriam and us for the time being. I can hear her politely inquiring that he move, and I don’t hear anything at all out of him.

When I look back, he’s smiling in a not-so-nice way.

Then I turn and face off against Dennis. He’s staring at me like he has no idea why I’m here. Doesn’t matter. I’m taking control of the situation. Insulting Lo? Kissing Lo? These people are way out of line.

Marlowe’s a monster, but if someone is going to kick his ass, it’ll be me.

And maybe Brooks.

“You should be ashamed of yourself for leaving Lo in the Witchwoods. Are you seriously yelling at him?” I exhale and shake my hands out, trying to treat this like it’s no big deal. “Anyway, we were just stopping by as a courtesy. You aren’t going to scream at him or call the cops or anything else.” I shrug, and then I wait to see what Marlowe will do.

He turns to me, and we stare at each other. I only wish I could read the expression on his face.

Marlowe flicks his eyes back to Dennis.

“Call the cops and tell them what, Den? To do a DNA test and prove it? My God, what the hell happened to you?” Lo scowls at his friend, but they’re both shaking and look to be on the verge of either a fight or a cry-fest. “I’ll do it, if that’ll shut you up. Have my fingerprints taken. My DNA analyzed. But don’t make me do that. You know me, you stupid motherfucker.”

The air fizzles and some of that rage leaves Marlowe in a whoosh. He drags both hands down his face, like he’s trying to wrestle his anger into submission. Our gazes crash together. I’m sorry your friends aren’t the people you thought they were.

It’s disappointing to be let down by someone you love.

“You were kissing,” Dennis whispers, looking over at Miriam like he isn’t sure what that means. “Shit. I don’t … you haven’t aged at all. You’re … different.” Dennis looks his friend over and then shakes his head, putting his fingers up to his temples. “I … people just don’t go missing and reappear twenty years later. Lo, you’re dead. My therapist told me that you’re dead.”

“People disappear if they stick their hand in a magic tree and vanish right before your eyes. Christ, Den. What the actual fuck ?” Marlowe is staring at his buddy like he needs him to believe this, like he won’t be able to function if he doesn’t. “You were there!”

“It was a trauma response!” Dennis shouts back, and Brooks sighs, letting his head fall back.

“Five minutes isn’t running out as quickly as my patience,” he murmurs, fingering the stoppered glass vial in his hand. Tanner is leaned up against the doorjamb now, sucking crumbs from his thumb and making inappropriate eye contact with me.

“Trauma response?” Marlowe echoes with a deranged laugh. He rakes his fingers repeatedly through his hair, like he’s this close to beating Dennis up. Can’t say I’d blame him. It’s one thing to disappear and know your friends left you in the Witchwoods. It’s insult to injury for them to deny that it ever happened at all.

“I saw you killed or eaten by a bear or … something. My mind conjured up the idea of the tree because it was easier to stomach.” Dennis slaps a hand over his mouth, glasses sliding down his nose. Miriam is wringing her hands, pacing a quick back-and-forth on the floor of … is this some teenager’s room?

I look around and realize there are bunk beds in here. Posters of pop stars on the walls. An iPad lying next to a stack of textbooks on a desk. Miriam breaks into the conversation, despite Tanner’s very intimidating blockade between her and her ex-boyfriend.

“Dennis, you know what happened to Lo. We both know what happened to Lo. This is a miracle. I’m not going to look a miracle in the face and deny the blessing we’ve been given.”

Dennis stares at his wife like he’s never seen her before, attention shifting to his friend. His much bigger, much meaner, much angrier friend.

“Our whole lives are based around you being gone. Every minute we’ve lived since that day has been tainted with tragedy. How can you just be here, whole and perfect and young? How ?”

“So … you do know it’s me then.” Marlowe lets out a soft laugh, rife with hurt. “You just wish I’d never come home. You were hoping I was dead.”

Silence.

And then … “Whatever it is that you are,” Dennis begins, adjusting his glasses as he looks Lo up and down. “You’re not him. Not anymore.”

Marlowe says nothing, glancing over at me, of all people.

I look back at him, staring into those dark eyes of his and finding a thousand emotions tangled up like colored string. Knots of purple anguish and tumbles of yellow fear, strands of pink happiness and flickers of bright red frustration.

“Remember what Brooks said to me: tell them the truth, and if they don’t believe you, that’s their problem and not yours.” My words are almost a whisper—and I can barely stand the idea that I’m quoting Brooks in front of Brooks—but I know Marlowe hears them.

He looks back at Dennis and Miriam.

“You know the whole world is messed up when I start listening to some chick I just met over my best friend.” A pause. “ Former best friend. And Miriam, for real? You kissed me? What’d you think was going to happen, that I was going to crawl in bed with you and Dennis after twenty years? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. ”

Marlowe snatches my hand and drags me from the room, pausing only briefly to look at Brooks.

“After everything you and Tanner put me through, I’m not asking a lot. They deserve to remember every horrible second of this conversation. Leave them alone.” He grits his teeth as he drags me past Tanner and into the hallway, down the length of it, and outside.

I take a deep breath, a recovery breath, like I’m coming up for air after a long dive. But Marlowe isn’t done. He’s angry and hurt and confused. He drags me across the lawn and into the woods that border the edge of the property.

Massive redwood trees loom above us, branches shifting gently in the wind. Reminds me of the Witchwoods. One of the guys—I can’t remember which—told me that when the trees whisper, that’s the first sign that the Hag Wytch is coming. Please not today. Not here. Not now.

Marlowe seems to know where he’s going, so I let him guide me into the trees and over to a gargantuan stump with charred firewood in the middle of it. Looks like this is a pretty common spot for bonfires. Lo releases my hand and begins to pace on the soft blanket of pine needles, his boots muffled by the forest floor.

With one hand to his chest, he pauses in front of me, catching me in an impossibly dark gaze.

“All I ever dreamed of in the Witchwoods was coming home. I was willing to do literally anything to get back.” He bites his lip hard, leaving a visible bite mark. We both know what that means. “Now that I’m here, I realize that there is no such thing as home. Now what? Kate, I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost.”

I swallow and wet my lips, aching for this jerk that I should rightfully hate.

People are so goddamn complicated though. Marlowe did an unforgivable thing to me; he did it because he loved his family and friends so much that he’d rather be a monster than spend the rest of his life missing them. He’s horrible, and he was surviving.

Both things are true.

“I know we didn’t choose each other,” I begin, trying to figure out how to say this without making the situation worse. “But … we have each other now. If you’re lost, then I’m willing to help you find your way back home.”

He blinks at me, like I’ve stunned him with words. My heartbeat is so fast that it’s making me sick. What do I do now? How is he going to react to that?

Marlowe closes the distance between us so fast that my head spins, his hands bracketing my face and his mouth hot and hungry on mine. He doesn’t just taste me with that first flick of his tongue, he consumes me. He eats me whole with his mouth, and I crumble into him, hands latched onto his shirt.

I was so lonely before you guys came into my life. I didn’t realize it, but oh my God, I was looking for home, too. I want to feel like I have a community, a family.

Did not expect to find community and family with three ruthless witchy woodsmen.

But here I am.

I’m gathered up in Marlowe’s arms, dragged to him and crushed against his warm chest and beating heart. He came to this house looking for … something. I’m not sure what, exactly, but it didn’t go quite the way he hoped that it would. Marlowe doesn’t belong here, and he’s looking for someone to belong to.

I become that person.

At that moment, he chooses me.

Marlowe Waverley chooses me.

I decide that I’m going to choose him—and I know that I chose Tanner the other night, too. Just Brooks. Only Brooks is left. But right now, it really is all about Marlowe. I don’t know why. I’m not sure why I like him. I just … do.

Stupid coven ritual. Stupid accidental magic marriage. It’s the Vegas thing, but instead of alcohol and missing memories, it’s blood sacrifice and weird sex. I’m expecting a good grovel from this asshole.

In the best possible way, I forget all about Tanner and Brooks, Miriam and Dennis. It’s me and Marlowe there in those trees, and nothing else.

We’re both glowing when he draws back from me, his shadow spreading demon wings across the trunk of a massive tree. It’s a reflection of the wild woods that wormed their way inside his heart.

I can understand that.

I was only in the Witchwoods for two days, and those tangled briars have a hold on me, green tendrils woven through my rib cage, and dark roses blooming over my heart.

“I’m going to make you my happy accident,” Marlowe says, and I’m not quite sure what that means, but it sounds nice. He takes a step back and goes to his knees in front of me. “I’m going to be your happy accident.”

My lips part in surprise, and only then do I remember where we are.

“What if they come looking for us?” I whisper as Marlowe slides his bare hands up and under my skirt. I almost never wear skirts. I wanted to look nice for Miriam.

“Do you think I give a crap?” Lo asks, and there’s enough force in his words that I believe him. He truly does not care either way if Dennis and Miriam find us like this. As far as Tanner and Brooks, I realize that I wouldn’t mind so much if they saw. Or if they watched. “I’m offering to eat that sweet pussy out. Are you really going to tell me no?”

I lean back against the trunk of a tree, sliding down it so that I’m sitting in front of him. I’m not sure that I can relax enough out here to get off, but … I get on my knees in front of Marlowe. The move seems to surprise him, which I like.

“If I offered to suck your dick, would you tell me no?” I retort, and he blinks back at me like he has no idea who I am … but that he likes what he sees.

“What the fuck, Kate?” he asks, but he slumps back against the edge of the stump that serves as a fire pit. I crawl forward and reach for his pants, undoing the button and dragging the zipper down while I look into his eyes.

“Don’t swallow,” he tells me, grabbing my chin in his fingers. I make a face at him, thinking that he wants his own cum for a spell or something. “Hold it in your mouth for me, Kate. I’ll make it good for you if you do.”

I have no idea what his intentions are, and I like that, too.

“Sure, Lo,” I tell him, and he actually smiles at me. It’s a naughty smile. Nothing good in there, just fleshly delight and dark promises. I like that the most.

I reach for the waistband of his pants, but he beats me to it, lifting his hips and shoving them down to mid-thigh before his bare ass hits the dirt again. He rucks them down a little further, right to the ankles, and then spreads his knees. It’s a shameless, dirty move, and I have to resist the urge to squirm.

I refuse to let him know how much I like it. Marlowe seems to know anyway, tossing out a secretive little smirk before he lifts his right hand up and curls his fingers around the edge of the tree stump.

My cheeks are warm as I tuck some loose orange hair behind an ear, leaning down so that I can take him into my mouth. I brace one palm on the forest floor, the other curving around his hip. My thumb digs into a tight strip of muscle, smoothing over his hip flexor.

Our eyes meet before I drop my focus down to the thick, veiny cock between his legs. Beautiful. I exhale as I study it, the shape of him, the flex of his stomach muscles as he adjusts himself. There are piercings down here, too. Spells, like Tanner said.

“You’re weeping for me, Marlowe,” I whisper, sliding my thumb over his crown and catching pre-ejaculate on my fingertip. When I lift it to my lips to suck it off, he groans and puts a strong hand on the back of my neck, guiding me where he wants me.

My mouth parts, sliding over the tip of his cock. He moans and thrusts his hips up to meet me, his body a work of art as his muscles strain upwards. I’ve got my knees on the crotch of his pants, pinning his ankles to the forest floor.

I’m sucking a witch’s cock in the front yard of his ex-girlfriend’s house.

This is a whole new experience for me.

I lift my ass up in the air, aware that my wet panties are visible to anyone who might stumble on us. Somehow, I don’t imagine that Brooks and Tanner will let Miriam or Dennis find us here.

My lips strain around the width of Marlowe’s cock, and I can’t help but wonder how much of what I’m seeing here is because of the Witchwoods. There’s no way that all three of these men were naturally hung like this. Magic. Magic that makes men taller, stronger, and bigger.

Sucking him with all those piercings is an experience. Hard spots against my tongue that I tease, that bump my teeth. I take one and tug on it, pulling at that sensitive skin and then releasing it. I swallow him up, taste those bits of metal in the back of my throat. Nothing at all like Nathan. Not the piercings. Not the size. Not the sheer, wild excitement coursing through my body.

“Oh fuck, Kate, you got me,” Marlowe breathes, voice ragged as I draw back and his cock slips from my lips with a pop. I lick my mouth clean, and he shudders, fingers tightening on the nape of my neck. “You got me so good. I can’t predict your next move. Ever. Keep surprising me.”

He shoves me down again, and I move my hand quickly from his hip to the base of his shaft. I get there just in time, his dick impaled between my lips, my mouth slamming into my own fist. I squeeze the base of him, letting him set the rhythm. His hand moves me up and down along with the rise and fall of his hips.

Marlowe makes beautiful sounds as he fucks my mouth, our bodies glowing with whatever power it is that we picked up in the Witchwoods. We’re both casting disturbing shadows on the trees, drawing things that shouldn’t exist in this world into our peripheral vision.

A glowing raccoon skitters by and climbs the trunk of a tree. Some strange bird cries out overhead. Can I hear the flapping of big wings? But it’s just Ebon, landing on the edge of the stump to watch us.

I imagine that Tanner’s looking through her eyes, and I perform better because of it.

I want Tanner to see how good I’m sucking Marlowe, and how good I’m going to suck him later. Holy shit, Kate. Holy. Shit.

My teeth turn pointed, two little sharp canines on either side. I surprise Marlowe by drawing back quickly, and then biting him on the thigh. I bite him so hard that he bleeds, and he moans like he’s about to come.

“ Fuck. ” He shoves my head back down on his dick as I lick and nip and suck, working him into such a frenzy that his hips are churning wildly against my face. “You’re so goddamn good at this. What the hell, Kate? What the hell? What the … Fuck. ”

Marlowe comes hot and wild in my mouth, spurting violently against the back of my throat. I swallow some of it down by accident, keeping the rest in my mouth through sheer force of will. He said he’d make it good for me, didn’t he? I want to know what that means.

With a growl, he pulls me off his dick and drags me up to his face. With the taste of him, illicit and warm on my tongue, he kisses me. He’s not shy or unsure or grossed out. He kisses me like he loves it, gathering his own load up on his tongue and pulling it into his own mouth.

When he draws back, lips pursed, his eyes are sparkling.

Marlowe pushes me back, so that I’m on my knees but no longer pinning his pants to the ground. Then he guides me down so that I’m lying prone on the pine needles underneath him. With his huge body cradled between my thighs, he threads the fingers of one hand into my hair, crushes a closed-mouth kiss to my lips, and then trails that hot mouth down my body.

I shiver as he presses his lips to the fabric of my shirt over my belly button, to the wet fabric of my panties. Using two fingers, he tugs them aside, touching his filthy mouth to my swollen pussy. I’m so horny that my hips drive up against his face, my fingers digging into his hair.

I lied. I can get off out here. I want to get off so bad.

Marlowe uses his tongue to push his load inside of me, and my eyes widen as I stare up at the trees above us. Um. This is so dirty. It’s so fucking dirty, and I love it so much. I moan as shamelessly as he did, the sound cutting off in a sharp gasp as he drives two fingers into me, pushing his hot cum even deeper into my pussy.

“You’re so naughty, Katelynn,” he tells me, laughing against my bare cunt. Marlowe slams his fingers deep, knuckles slamming into the outside of me, working his seed in as deep as he can. “Looking at you, I had no idea.”

It hits me then that he’s doing to me now what he did to me in the woods, but it’s completely different this time. I tense up briefly, and I know he can tell. He pauses, lifting his head to look at me.

“Two birds, one stone,” I whisper, voice rough.

Our eyes meet, and then he’s surging up and over me, kissing me so hard that I know we cut each other. We both have those slightly pointed teeth, drawing salty blood into our mouths as he uses his hand to drag me to the edge. Each time his knuckles slam into me, I choke out a pleasured gasp between our lips.

Over and over, a nice steady rhythm. Unhurried. Uncaring about the outside world.

Marlowe moves his lips to my neck, biting me and smearing red across his face and my pale throat. That’s what does it for me, the feel of his witch teeth piercing my skin. I grab onto his shoulders, hips rising to meet the thrust of his hand, and I orgasm for him with a shiver that runs from the crown of my head to my toes.

We collapse together in the dirt, panting hard. Lo leans back so that he can look down at my face. We just did something explicit and naughty together, but … it’s so much more than that.

He’s lonely. I’m lonely. The whole world is lonely and looking for connection. I’m not going to look a gift witch in the mouth.

I put my fingers up against his cheek, and his eyes shift in that direction.

The sounds of the real world creep back into the edges of my reality: the whir of a lawn mower, golfers on the course across the street chatting, Miriam and Dennis yelling.

“Fuck,” Marlowe murmurs with a groan, pulling back from me. He sits up on his knees, cock hard and wet, and then proceeds to suck his fingers clean while I watch. He smirks at me as I scramble up into a sitting position, putting necessary space between us. “Told ya I’d spit my load into you, Kate. I like to keep my promises.”

“Good to know,” I quip back, wondering what Marlowe is going to be like after today. However he behaves, it’ll be different from what I’ve seen thus far. “Spitting is an important aspect of witchcraft.”

“Isn’t it, though?” he asks, using the stump to get to his feet and dragging his pants back up. With a curse, he tucks his hard cock back into the fabric before holding out a hand for me to take. I do, standing up and then blushing as I feel his seed and saliva on the insides of my thighs. I adjust my panties, but it’s not going to help.

There’s blood on Marlowe’s mouth. Mine, too, I’m sure. On my neck. As we stand there, the glow fades from both his skin and mine. Not that anyone else can see it. Small miracles and all that.

“If I tilt that pretty head of yours back and spit in your mouth, we can make magic happen as quick as that. Want to try? A small spell, to clean up that dirty pussy, for example.” He saunters close to me, and I take a step back.

“Please don’t,” I tell him, smoothing out my skirt. “Maybe I should spit in your mouth? Sound appealing?”

“Do it.” Marlowe opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, laughing when he sees the expression on my face. “Come on, Kate. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the edge of the woods, back to the calf-high grass with all the dandelions that make up the Waverley’s front yard.

Miriam and Dennis are on the walkway with Brooks and Tanner standing between us and them.

We walk right up to the others, still holding hands.

“Lo, what the hell?” Miriam whispers, staring at the blood on his mouth, at our disheveled, dirty bodies. Miriam’s grieving isn’t over because the Marlowe she loved is dead and gone.

My Marlowe and her Marlowe are not the same Marlowe.

“Kate made me come here,” Marlowe says, like he isn’t bloodied on the mouth and holding the hand of some girl he just ravaged in the woods. “But I’m glad I did.” He smiles, and it’s awful. “How about a double date sometime? Just to catch up.”

Damn. Dismissive.

He turns and drags me in the direction of the truck as Tanner laughs and Brooks steps between us and them.

“Move,” Dennis declares, but then he must realize that trying to battle a mountain of muscle and witch is a little too much. Dennis steps back and says nothing as we pile into my truck and leave.