I smile through the corner of my mouth. “I love you, little deer.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY
fawn
A twingebetween my thighs plays out in my slow, sultry walk as I stride in time with Clay’s confident steps towards the outside area. The entire west wall of the house is glass panelling. Through the span of windowpanes, a smaller building is set a few metres from the grassed lawn. A granny flat or a gym. I don’t know which, but it’s lavish.
The abundant lawn stretches for many metres, rolling over a small hill and down. A trampoline—one of those with a protective net—is set up under a large tree thick with foliage. I’ve never been on a trampoline. I hope our children have one of those, too.
In an alfresco of sorts, I spot Max sitting on an outside lounger. Across from him, Cassidy natters sweetly, her strawberry-blonde hair is in a high ponytail, bouncing behind her as she talks.
I can’t hear voices through the glass, but I can see Xander and Bronson both standing over them, their eyes trained on Max. Conversation passes, causing smiles and chuckles. The Butcher brothers are more casual—ordinary— than I’m used to since being with Clay. They are in jeans and tee-shirts, looking every bit young Australian men.
Bronson is painted from his neck to the tips of his fingers in colourful tattoos, and I’m not sure I ever notice just how many there are… And Max has muscles bigger than my head bulging from his upper arms… And Xander looks so perfectly cut, he may have no body fat at all. All the boys blue eyed, dark haired, confident, pinch-yourself-kind-of-gorgeous. So, really, they couldn’t be ‘ordinary’ if they tried.
Despite that, my feet take me impatiently towards them, until I am slightly ahead of Clay, pulling the sliding door open, earning myself the attention of all three Butcher boys and Cassidy.
I rush to Xander when his baby blues land on me and throw my arms around him, warmth from his embrace suffusing me. He’s my friend. I’d do it again. “You’re okay.”
“Hey, girlie.” He holds me to him for a quick moment before pushing me out in front of him. “Now. You listen to me. Don’t ever put yourself in danger for me again.Ifucked up. I went out on my own. You are not to blame for what happened. I am, ya hear me?”
Sighing, I nod because he’s right. He did fuck up. “You did fuck up. Don’t do that again.”
He laughs with that-boy-next-door ease, cool and charismatic. The sound bounces around the alfresco in a welcoming way. “Yes, Boss.”
Feeling eyes on me, I look at Max. His left leg propped up on the cushioning, bandages wrapped with care around his thigh, angry red flesh peeking out above and below the white fabric. I swallow and shake my head. “Are you in pain?”
A smirk builds across his face. “Never been better.”
I laugh a little. “You said that like you really meant it.”
He looks at Cassidy, meaning and affection in his grey eyes. “I did.” Then his gaze shifts over my shoulder to Clay, his smirk dropping and his brows weaving. “You here to give me a hard time?”
“I’m here to check on my brothers.” Clay strides over to Xander, cupping his bruised cheeks and checking him over for a moment before kissing both sides. It is a very European gesture. One I have only seen him do a few times. “Are you well?”
Xander nods with his big brother's palms bracketing his cheeks. “You did the right thing, Clay. You know—”
Clay pulls him to his chest, a firm hold that silences more words between them. “That’s enough. There was no decision without pain.” He releases Xander and focuses his attention on Max. “I won’t take what you did lightly.” Warning wraps around each word. “One day soon, when you’re healed and strong, we will beat that night out of each other in the ring.”
I can’t think of anything worse than seeing the Butcher brothers fight. But Max stares straight at Clay, his eyes meeting the challenge, the warning, in an accepting way. He leans back further into the lounge but stifles a wince that forces Cassidy to inhale a shaky breath as though she was struck with pain at the exact same moment. “You should be in bed,Max—”
“I’m not living in a damn bed for the next two months, little one.” He reaches out and strokes her cheek. “Don’t press this. That’s not me.”
“Let’s play the betrayed brother game another time,” Bronson states coolly but in a way that suggests he’s not going to allow a rebuttal. “Maxipad is being skinned at the moment. I know burns, and that’s gotta feel like he’s losing a layer. Also, I’m hungry. Those two points are not related…” He ponders. “I don’t think.”
Cassidy curls her nose up, her hazel freckles collecting along the bridge. “Gross, Bronson.”
“I know Butch has visited.” Clay keeps his eyes on Max but walks me over to a spare chair, nodding for me to sit down on it. I do as I’mnodded-to-do.
“Yes. Twice,” Cassidy says, pridefully.
Clay stands behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders, his fingers circling the nape of my neck slowly. “Has mother been to visit you?”
Quickly they flick their gazes around the room, bouncing a look of significance between them. It’s deeply personal. Painful too. I can see it hidden in their eyes. Clay notices it; his fingers on my neck have stilled, uncertainty in their frozen tips.
“Why would she visit?” Cassidy asks. Clay’s younger brothers somehow grow larger when she speaks. A visual display of cloaking themselves, averse to the topic.
“I know there are some issues here,” Clay begins smoothly, an aura of authority to his delivery. “She’s made mistakes, boys, but she is your mother.”