Speed King (Men of Action 1)

Jewls curls around me, her tears soaking through my shirt. “We should call Rich.”

A whimper escapes as my stomach rolls. “Harley, take a deep breath. I’ll make the call if it’s easier. Or maybe we could ask Finn to—”

“No, I’ll do it. Dad needs to hear it from me.”

Before I can dial Dad’s number, an incoming text buzzes from Finn.

We’re in the driveway when you’re ready.

Even in my grief and worry, my heart flips. “They came. Finn and Max are here.”

“It’s two-thirty in the morning and it’s snowing.”

I don’t know Finn well and don’t know Max at all. But those two men don’t give a shit about the time or the weather. They’re worried, and this is their style.

“We need to let them in.”

She releases me and moves to her suitcase, slipping a hoodie over her flannel pajamas. I go to the bathroom and flinch at my reflection. My skin is pale with splotches snaking down my neck, eyes are bloodshot, and lips swollen and chewed. My hand goes to the wall for the set of hand towels that hang there, and I freeze.

Bright aqua.

Not white, or grey, but a shade of blue I thought Achilles would agree to.

They were meant to be a Christmas present, and lead into telling him my plans for our bedroom scheme in the new house. But I couldn’t put them under the tree. They gave me a sense of comfort by being in here where I see them every morning.

Jewls walks in and takes in my struggle. She lifts the towel, wets it, and presses it to my neck and cheeks. “How about some tea?”

“That would be great. Not sure my stomach can handle coffee.”

“What can I get you?”

“Achilles’ black sweatshirt on the closet shelf.”

She purses her lips, her eyes glassing over, and kisses my forehead quickly. “Wash your face.”

I do as she says, brushing my teeth, too, even though I wasn’t sleeping when Finn called a half-hour ago. It makes me feel a little more put together.

The cold water does a little to help, although misery remains clear on my features. It is what it is. Jewls tosses me the sweatshirt, and I slip it on as we go toward the main room. She veers off in the kitchen while I turn off the alarm and switch on the outside lights, opening the door.

There’s a second of shock when I see Presley standing there flanked by Finn and Max. She pounces, embracing me tightly, and I melt into her, smelling the fresh scent of baby powder. My insides shake, but I don’t let myself break down.

“Pres? You want to move her inside, or should I lift you both and haul you inside the house?”

“Max, you pick up my wife, I’ll level you.”

At Finn’s reply, an unfamiliar feeling of hilarity creeps in, and I giggle into her shoulder. She shuffles us back while muttering, “Men are so stupid.”

At this, I openly laugh, pulling back to look at her. “Achilles threatened Talon once when he offered to lift me off the sofa.”

The memory crashes into me of that day and night. The flowers, the apology, the lunch, swimming, falling asleep on Achilles’ chest… that kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss… it was THE kiss.

The kiss that started it all.

The memory is too much, and to my horror, my laughter turns into a wail. My knees give out, and before I crumble, two strong arms circle me from behind, getting me to the sofa and holding me close. Loud sobs rack my body, and I cling to Max with all I have, pouring my unthinkable fears into his chest.

There’s no telling how long he holds me like this, but eventually, my sobs die down to quiet cries and sniffles. I swipe at my cheeks, my skin hot and clammy against my fingertips. A wad of tissues is shoved into my hands.

“Thanks.” I take them gratefully.

“Harley, drink some tea. It’s cooled.”

I take the mug from Jewls and swallow a large gulp, hoping it will soothe my throat, instantly realizing my mistake. Tears spring to my eyes—this time because of the potent taste of whiskey. I choke and sputter, gasping like a fool.

“What the hell?”

“My fault.” Presley grimaces. “I told her it needed a little spike.”

“Little?” I cock an eyebrow at Jewls.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re exaggerating. Next time, don’t chug.”

I take a much smaller sip and try to push back the awkwardness of my breakdown in the arms of a basic stranger.

Presley’s hand squeezes my knee. “Don’t do that, Harley. Don’t be embarrassed.”

My nerves start to settle at the gentle sincerity in her tone. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what are y’all doing here?”

“You needed to be surrounded by friends,” she says warmly.

“What about your kids? It’s the middle of the night.”

“My brother and niece were already spending the night. They are with them.”