Page 57 of Secret Heart
“We don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says. “I just wanted to bring it up to you both so you could think about it. Maybe go to the rodeo in Billings and see if you want to stomach all of that for the next couple years.”
“All right,” Emily says.
Her voice has that same vulnerable instability as when she told me she was pregnant. Her scent lashes out from her again, and Triston whines. She sucks in a deep breath and then stands. She drops the foil into one of the small bags of trash and takes the entire thing to the bear-proof trash can next to the cars. Then she rinses her hands with some of the water from the lake we put in a large jug.
Her scent has faded by the time she comes back to us. She crouches in front of Triston. His eyes are bright, that fragile, desperate edge back to his movements. Her hands are gentle as she cups his face, running her thumbs along his cheeks and then his ears and his throat. She doesn’t pull away until that quivering restlessness fades from him and he breathes without it sounding like he’s a heartbeat away from crying in earnest. Then she leans forward and kisses him, soft and sweet and simple.
“I’m going to get Penny into the tent,” she whispers.
He wordlessly hands her off. She turns to me, and I kiss her.
“Good night,” I say against her lips.
When she turns back to Triston, he grabs her hand and runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist.
“Good night.” His voice is stronger than his movements, low and thick with emotion that has me wanting to lay him out beside the dying fire, wring an orgasm from him, and then watch the clouds move over the stars together.
“Good night, Omega,” she murmurs.
She walks behind us and into the tent we’re sharing. Once it’s just the two of us, I palm the nape of his neck and pull him into me, needing to etch myself on his bones so he doesn’t get stuck in his head over Emily’s fears roaring up. He sinks into me, twisting his hands into my shirt. The kiss deepens, burns hot enough to out burn the coals near us.
“Triston,” I mutter, husky and desperate.
He nods, understanding just like he always did. I bite his lip.
And then I lay him out exactly how I imagined, soaking in his moans and breathing in his gasps as I fuck him.
Chapter Thirty-One
EMILY
Ethan doesn’t say a word as he sits on the ground beside me, his eyes on the lake. After a minute, he takes off his flannel and drapes it over his thighs, leaving most of the tattoos that cover his arms on display, the colors worn but the details still visible, like an old painting in a museum. I look over them instead of breaking the silence. The view of the Arch and the meadow on the ranch where they built their house. Even the panorama of the valley from the top of Bluebird View. There’s my guest cabin, too, on his left wrist and extending onto the back of his hand. On his right forearm is the old West Barn from before Brandon died and Melissa converted their family ranch into the tourist hub it is now. I’ve never asked what they mean. Ethan’s not the type of person to do anything frivolously, including permanently mark himself with ink, but he got most of them over the first six months after they lost Kayla, and I had never felt comfortable asking him why.
“Did Beau send you?” I ask at last, unable to handle the quiet while the families slowly wake up at the campsite some three hundred feet from us.
“Nope.” He pops the “p” and leans back on his hand. “He’s not an idiot. If I came out here on behalf of someone else, you’d never actually admit to what’s bothering you. Especially to me.”
I snort and grab one of the small rocks that make up most of the lake’s shoreline. It’s smooth under my fingers, the edges worn away from years of the water moving across it.
“He wants to adopt her.”
Ethan nods. “Not surprised. From that night he learned about her, he’s been all in. And adopting her means she has access to all of his money if something happens to him while riding, even if the paperwork behind the scenes isn’t up-to-date.”
Of course Ethan would think about death and the mess it can cause when it’s unexpected. They’d had to sort through all kinds of paperwork when that bull killed Brandon in the pasture when Camden was about the same age as Naomi is now.
“It requires we register as a pack.”
He only raises an eyebrow, twisting a rock in his palm, too. After a minute, I toss the small rock toward the lake, flicking my wrist so it’ll skip rather than make a single large splash. Ethan whistles.
“Five,” he mutters. “And that’s you just dicking around while stuck in your own thoughts.”
I roll my eyes. “You know you could have learned, too.”
“Yep.” He shrugs. “Spent the time making out with an Omega instead. Much better use of my time.”
I grimace.
“That’swhy you never figured it out?” A memory from the first time the Bennetts took us all camping pops up. “Oh myGod. That was that summer with Brielle? Ugh, too much information, Ethan! Gross!”
