Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

He brings his thumb to my cheek. “I love you too, baby.” We both fall back into the cool lake and Bishop grabs me from the backs of my thighs to pull me onto his back as we start swimming back to shore.

“No! No!” Nate is still complaining.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Pretty Prince, and pass her her clothes.” We hit the sand and I giggle into Bishop’s back, the wall of muscle that’s acting as my shield.

Nate turns his back to us, shaking his head. “Nope. Not doing this. Y’all are getting worse with old age.”

“I’m thirty-nine, fuckwit.” Bishop shakes the water out of his hair.

Tillie walks over, scooping up my clothes while rolling her eyes. “Stop trying to act like you, one, haven’t seen her body, and two, haven’t tried to fuck her body.”

I dip out from behind Bishop and snatch the clothes from Tillie, doing them up in record time. “Thanks, T. Are the rest here yet?”

“Nope.” Tillie hands me a glass of gin and tonic as I squeeze the excess water out of my hair. “They’re parking their cars. I think Spyder is actually trying to drive through with his big fuck off”—she waves her hands in the air—“whatever pickup it is he has.”

I take a sip of my drink, but goose bumps rise on my flesh and shivers rack through my body. Just as I’m about to complain about how cold I am, warmth covers my back when Bishop lays his suit jacket over me before he and Nate make their way to the bonfire we’ve set up. There are little log chairs surrounding the fire pit, with cheese platters, enough champagne and alcohol to last us all night, and a sound dock.

“You think they’re going to behave tonight?” Tillie asks, falling down onto one of the seats.

I chuckle into my glass. “Absolutely not. Priest tried calling me earlier, before texting me to ask if he can take the Bugatti to the track.”

“Ahhh.” Tillie’s eyes fly between Bishop and me as more laughter and voices filter through the forest. “You said no, right? Like I feel like Bishop ‘The Ice King’ Hayes will absolutely execute his name and rip on Priest.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, peering up at Bishop. “I think they’re both a little more similar than either of them likes to admit.”

“Except they’re not. You and I both know he’s more—” I glare at her and she throws her hands up in defeat. “Okay, girl, shit. Didn’t he fuck all that tension out of you just then?”

We both stare at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing. Tillie still hasn’t outgrown her pink hair, only now it’s more of a rose gold. Her skin is soft and supple like it was when we were younger, and she continuously blames the fact she only eats vegan.

I beg to differ. I mean, no offense to her, but I like my meat raw.

We both turn when Brantley and Saint come through the clearing, with Tate and Spyder and Abel and Kinley, his wife. It took him a while to find anyone after Bailey, but eventually (and I mean like, five years), he found Kinley when he started his own practice. Kinley is a cosmetic surgeon, and Abel a general practitioner. Having them both is handy because unlike Tillie, I rely on certain injections to maintain my youthful look. I don’t go over the top, but I smooth out the ones that I feel personally victimized by.

Saint is just naturally beautiful with that young spark, and Tate is with me.

Brantley grabs a drink and passes one to Saint before she comes to sit near us girls.

“What did we miss? Nate is complaining about something he walked in on and is blaming Tillie for always wanting to be early.” Saint pops the lid off her pre-mixer, taking a small swig. Her hair is cropped short around her shoulders now, which only makes her smile seem wider.

Tillie sighs, kicking off her shoes and folding her legs beneath her butt. “He’s so dramatic.”

“True,” Tate adds, sipping on her gin while sitting beside Tillie. “But honestly, you two are animals.”

“Oh, and you all ain’t?” I glare at them all with a small smirk on my mouth.

They all wave me off in their own ways as the sound dock turns on and music drifts through the forest.

“I can’t believe the twins and War are eighteen.” I keep my eyes on the sky with my drink cupped in my hands.

“I know.” Tillie sighs. “You know he’s not as bad as Priest when it comes to overprotective brotherliness, but sometimes I wonder if River is going to ever have a girlfriend.”

Tate sniffles and I turn to face them all with lazy eyes. The night is quiet, with no wind, and the boys are all talking on the other side of the fire. So much warmth fills my heart when I think of us all and what we’ve gone through over the years. We’re more than a family, so much more than a family. Our kids are all best friends—I wouldn’t say family because I don’t know if Tillie and Bishop know it yet—and definitely not Priest, but there’s some serious tension between War and Halen. The kind that only a mother can see.