Credence

I forgot why I should keep as far away from him as I can.

I run my hand through my hair, chewing on my lip as the alcohol dulls the pain in my arm.

“I want Jake,” I whisper to myself.

What if this still gets infected? He would know what to do. They can’t handle this. Volatile, irresponsible…

“He’s not who had your tongue in his mouth minutes ago,” Noah spits out, looking over his shoulder at me as he fills a pitcher. “You liked us then.”

I shift on my feet, looking away.

But he turns, wiping his hands on a towel. “You know, it just occurred to me.” His eyes crinkle as he studies me. “I’m actually the only man in this house who hasn’t hit you,” he states. “And I’m the one you don’t want. What the fuck

is wrong with you?”

I narrow my eyes as his words hit. That’s not… What?

I don’t…

“Maybe if I take you over my knee, too, you’ll get wet?” he asks.

And then my face falls. He saw us. He saw his father spanking me that night.

My heart thumps in my chest, and I watch him shake his head, the first actual sign of disdain I’ve seen come off Noah, and it’s directed at me.

He’s pissed now.

My mind goes back to moments ago—Kaleb’s lips so gentle and Noah’s mouth so warm.

Moments ago, he loved me. I love you. You’re so fucking ours. We love you.

I think he was even crying, because he hated me hurting that much and hated not being able to take the pain away.

My arm still throbs, but I feel better than I did.

They took care of me. Not Jake. They handled this.

Noah thinks I don’t see him.

He turns around to fill another pitcher as Kaleb cleans the table, and I stare at them both, barely noticing when the lights go out.

The kitchen goes black, the outdoor lights outside the window dying in the storm, as well, and the boys stop what they’re doing as the snow falls in the dark night and the house goes silent.

Noah throws a hand towel down. “Jesus, fuck.”

Kaleb stalks out of the kitchen, heading to the laundry room, and I watch Noah pull off his shirt and toss it down as he works the faucet.

“All we’ve got left is the hot water in the tank,” he gripes. “Fuck.”

I ball my fists, my arms feeling so empty all of a sudden.

I take a step, slowly walking up behind Noah.

And I slide my arms around his waist.

“Noah is always warm,” I say in a low voice. “He’s the one I love to talk to.”

He stills, and I rest my forehead in his back as my arms wrap around him and my hands touch his warm torso.