Page 236 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Hunter?” I ask, confused but hopeful.

“He means his client. You once told me I could only have one or the other with you, and, Dekker, you sure as hell know which one I’m going to pick.”

“Me?” I ask, an incredulity in my voice as my world comes full circle.

“Did you not just hear anything I said?” He laughs. “Of course, you.” He gives me a chaste kiss on the lips. “And then him.”

He squeezes my hand as he stares at me, and I don’t care that my father’s there watching—I wouldn’t care if the whole world was—because when Hunter looks at me, everything else is just background noise.

“I’ll be in my office,” my father says, leaving us alone.

“’Kay,” Hunter says, but his eyes never leave mine.

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Do what?” he asks.

“This. Me. Us. KSM,” I say with a nervous laugh, “because this is your only chance to bail. You know us Kincades, we never walk away from negotiations.”

“Lucky for me, because I already let you walk away once, and I’m sure as hell not making that mistake again.”

He leans in and kisses me with a kiss that’s equal parts emotion and heat. But when he pulls back, the look in his eyes is one hundred percent emotion.

“What?” I ask softly.

“Just trying to fathom how you’re here. How I’m here. How life happens.”

“Skill. Stick. Finesse, Maddox.”

He throws his head back and laughs.

And it’s the best sound in the world.

Hunter

6 months later

I absently toy with the edges of the letter. It’s light, but the weight of it staggers me.

Unable to bring myself to look at the words typed on the page yet, I sit on the old dock and watch the lake sparkling in the sun before me.

“We’ll own a cabin here someday,” I say to Jonah. He looked over at me and skipped a rock across its surface. We both count as it dances five times on top of the water before sinking.

“Maybe.” He leans back on his elbows and holds his face to the sun. “We might own a cabin and come here with our families. We might not. But this is where I want to die someday.”

“Dude. That’s fucked.” I laugh. “Why do you have to get all morbid and shit? We’re sixteen. Let’s not think about that yet.” I lift the beer we’d swiped from the cabin’s fridge and take a drink.

I still think it tastes like piss, but I’m trying to acquire the taste.

And not get caught.

We’d be dead if we got caught.

“It’s life, little brother. We live. We die. The earth moves on.”

“You should drink that beer before Mom and Dad get back from the store or we’re going to practice that theory when Dad finds us.”

He laughs and takes a sip. I’m relieved to see his wince and that he doesn’t like it much either. But guys like beer, so we’ll figure out how to like it.