Mancave (Wild Men 3)

“It doesn’t matter.” She sighs. “I am not Gigi. Never was. I want to do this for me. Just to show him he’s not alone in the world, don’t you see? That’s all.”

I consider this. “And that’s it? We drive him back here, and you leave this alone?”

Seems like a small price to pay to appease Octavia’s obsession with Ross and get her back home safe.

“I guess. So that both you and Gigi can get off my case.”

I harrumph, absently tightening my hold on her.

Gigi may be a bombshell, but she doesn’t seem to have Octavia’s kind heart. Gigi would never have taken the time to know me, understand me, tame me. Save me.

But in this she’s right. Octavia needs to let go of this pet project.

Ross is beyond saving.

Right?

Beyond saving—you mean like you were? a small voice whispers in my mind. Who can tell who is worth saving and who isn’t? And who says you have a say over Octavia’s heart, and why do you think her kindness should stop at you and nobody else?

Dammit. I hate it when my inner voice disagrees with me.

“Fine,” I grumble. “We’ll go get fucking Ross from the prison and drive him here. But he stays away from you, Tay, got me? If he as much as lays a finger on you, or looks at you funny, I swear I’ll break every single bone in his goddamn body.”

She shivers and peeks up at me with half-lidded eyes. “No hitting. No bone breaking. You got to promise me, Matt.”

Goddammit. “No bone breaking if he looks at you funny,” I concede. “But he’s staying away from you, and that’s non-negotiable.”

She sighs and snickers softly. “Fair enough. He’ll be nice, you’ll see.”

And even if he is, he won’t be fooling me. Leopards don’t change their spots, and Ross Jones can’t change who he is. People don’t change. End of story.

Sooner or later, I think, Octavia will realize all this, and I refuse to consider what it might mean—about me.

Chapter Eight

Octavia

I wake up with a start, tears drying on my cheeks, and I’m suffocating, choking on sorrow. Sitting up, I press a hand to my chest, trying to fill my crushed lungs.

Oh God… That dream again. That nightmare.

I can’t let it happen. I can’t allow it.

God, I want to see Mom, Gigi and Merc, Mary and Cole and Matt’s mom, Kaden and Hailey. Everyone, make sure they’re okay. I get how Matt feels now. It’s as if he walks inside a living nightmare sometimes, where nothing is permanent, where happiness is a temporary, fleeting thing.

That’s how I am feeling right now.

Matt…

Slowly it sinks in that I’m in a living room, but not at home. Evan’s living room. The curtains are drawn, the light dim. I’m swathed in a blanket, pillows piled around me.

Huh. I can’t remember how this happened. The last thing I remember is kissing Matt here, on the sofa, and then… I must have fallen asleep in his arms. This is his doing.

A smile spreads on my face, and warmth in my chest, chasing the cold of the nightmare away. We’re okay. This isn’t—

“Why are you crying?” a small voice asks right behind me, and I scream. I swear I jump a foot off the sofa, my heart pounding fit to burst out of my chest.

Oh my God.