else, Bass turned and left. No one spoke until the front door of the gym clicked shut.
“Uncanny.” That came from my mother.
Upon hearing her voice, I turned and shoved my face as deep into Trey’s armpit as I could.
“It’s a good thing I haven’t worked out yet today.” Trey chuckled.
“Huh?”
“Babe?”
“Hm?”
I hadn’t moved—not that I’d planned to—so I was really happy I stayed put when Trey’s body started shaking, causing me to feel the rumble on my cheek, because feeling that for some silly reason made my heart swell.
Last night hadn’t been good for him. His parents and brother had barged into his home and treated him like crap. This morning when they’d left—the same. Not even a “thanks for letting us crash at your house—uninvited,” they’d just said bye and left. It was the most bizarre thing I’d ever witnessed. And all of that happened after my brother had been a royal jerk to him. And, though Trey didn’t say, I knew my dad had talked to him and that couldn’t have been pleasant.
So I didn’t care he was laughing at my childish attempt to hide from my mother. I was just glad he was laughing the day after he’d had a really crappy day and an equally bad morning.
“Hope he put on deodorant,” Quinn muttered.
He had put on deodorant and I knew this because this morning after he got out of the shower I’d watched him do it. I also watched him shave, with a thick navy blue towel wrapped around his narrow hips. He’d tensed when I’d set his cup of coffee on the vanity, then hauled my booty onto the counter to watch. But a few moments later, he relaxed. I knew he’d gone rigid because he was shirtless and I could see the scars on his chest, but more—it was the burns on his back that had his muscles straining. I didn’t acknowledge them, because there was nothing to acknowledge. They were just another part of him.
It was on those delicious thoughts of Trey shirtless in his bathroom doing something as normal as shaving then putting on deodorant I smiled.
“Jeez, Addy, get a room,” Hadley teased. “Oh, wait, the last time you did—”
A throat cleared—the sound very obviously masculine—but just in case my sister missed the meaning, my father finished with a “Hadley.”
It was a warning not to complete that thought. I didn’t see it because my face was still hidden. And hearing my dad’s voice made me shove deeper.
Kill me now.
Trey was no longer laughing. His body had gone just as still as mine and we stood locked together like two teenagers who’d been caught doing something naughty. No, that wasn’t right—two teenagers would’ve had the sense to jump apart. But Trey’s arm had tightened, holding me closer, not letting me go, claiming me in front of my dad.
So why was I hiding?
“Hey, Dad,” Quinn chirped.
“Trey. A word?” my dad clipped, ignoring my sister, which was odd.
He never snubbed one of his girls. Never. But he just had totally disregarded Quinn in favor of barking a command. One he’d likely expect Trey to obey.
Um. No.
I pushed back. Trey’s arms loosened, his chin dipped, and he caught my eyes.
“Be right back, baby.”
I was shaking my head when his lips dropped to mine. Soft, short, but again claiming. If his embrace hadn’t communicated his intentions to everyone in the room, that soft, short kiss did. It was sweet, what he was saying to me, reminding me he wasn’t going anywhere even though my brother stated plainly his thoughts and undoubtedly my dad had, too, just not in front of me.
Being as it was sweet, I appreciated the gesture. But it ticked me right the eff off Trey had to make the statement.
So when he started to pull away, I returned the favor, only I did it my way.
“Hi, Dad,” I greeted, and at the same time, I fisted Trey’s shirt, keeping him where I wanted.
“Trey? A word?” my dad once again commanded and didn’t spare me a glance.
“Jasper,” my mom gently reprimanded.
“Be right back, baby,” Trey repeated.
Days later, I would think back on this moment, and even then after much contemplation, I didn’t know what came over me other than I’d had enough. Enough of being the baby of the family. Enough of being overlooked. Enough of not being listened to. Enough of my dad—who showed me every day he loved me, who was a good dad, a good man, a good husband, but a man who