Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Also by Katee Robert
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- About the Author
“We do, don’t we?” Monroe lays her head against my chest. I can’t see her face from this position, but her voice goes almost wistful. “It’s almost a shame that this was destined to be temporary. I don’t like wasting time on what-ifs, but it’s kind of hard not to wonder what we’d accomplish if we had longer than a year.”
It feels downright traitorous to agree with her, but fuck, I can’t argue. We still bump up against each other’s razor-sharp edges sometimes, but now that we’re not actively at odds, it’s impossible to ignore how much I enjoy her company. How much I just flat out enjoy her. “I know.”
She gives me a squeeze and slips out of my arms. “Oh well. Let’s be there for our girl today and enjoy the rest of this time together.” She hesitates. “I don’t like the thought of asking Shiloh to choose after next Lammas, though.”
It’s like she’s pulled the thoughts right out of my head. I clear my throat. “I was thinking we could share.”
“Joint custody?” Monroe’s smile is on the bitter side of bittersweet. “It won’t last before that blows up in our faces.”
“Nothing lasts forever, Bride.”
Monroe gives herself a shake and grins at me, though her bravado doesn’t reach her eyes. “Miss me a little when I’m gone, yeah?” She strides to the closet before I can come up with a response.
I will.
It’s the fucking truth. Gods, how did this get so messed up? Life wasn’t easy when I hated Monroe, but it was certainly less complicated. I head into the bathroom to finish getting ready. One look at Shiloh’s face heavily discourages trying to make conversation. She’s spooked, too pale, the circles beneath her eyes confirming what I experienced last night with her tossing and turning—she’s exhausted and stressed out.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She dries her hair with perfunctory motions. “Yes, I really do.”
Which is how we end up in one of the compound trucks an hour later. I should probably have talked to Abel or scheduled some backup, but Shiloh’s already so edgy, I don’t want to pave the way for more witnesses to this moment of vulnerability. There’s a reason she hasn’t told most of the people in our group about her history, and I respect that enough not to bring them into it unnecessarily. I didn’t tell my older brother for that very reason; he would have insisted on backup, Shiloh’s feelings be damned.