Left for Wild - Harloe Rae Page 0,106
for being adventurous.”
“They’d argue that to be a fault.”
“Being ambitious and determined aren’t downfalls,” she murmurs.
I rest my cheek against hers, tilting to include a kiss. “You’re too accepting.”
She gives me one in return. “And you’re too stubborn.”
“Some would say that’s a positive trait.”
“Maybe in small doses.”
“Don’t fret, sweetheart. My soft spot for you grows wider by the minute. Not sure I’ve ever possessed the strength to deny you, even in the beginning.”
A sparkle lights up her baby blues. “In that case, we should visit them.”
I grunt, already dismissing the idea. “Hard pass.”
Then she stabs a finger into my side. “I’m serious. They’d love to see you.”
“Might have to disagree, but I’ll take it into consideration.”
She clears her throat, seeming to catch the strain in my voice. “How about your brother?”
A sharp bark rips off my throat. “Beckett is an entirely different situation. He’s been a rebel from birth. The expectations were low from the start. My parents never clung to the hope that he’d want to carry on their traditions. They never expected him to stick around and grow roots.”
“Dang, that’s harsh.”
Another dry laugh escapes me. “I think he got the easy way out. Beckett will claim the opposite is true.”
“And why is that?”
I twirl a lock of her glossy strands around my finger, giving a light tug. “He didn’t have many rules growing up. That amount of freedom didn’t bode well for his personality type. His moral compass has always been fast and loose. He’s twenty-five and has no sense of responsibility. His drive for any means of success is nonexistent unless you count scoring front row seats for the latest punk band. Forget any sort of commitment. Can’t hold down a job. He likes danger, parties, and sex. Not necessarily in that order.”
Blakely whistles. “He’s living by the golden standards.”
“Something like that. Surprisingly enough, Beckett has managed to avoid jail. That’s more than I can say for myself.”
A sharp jab prods at my ribs. “He learned a thing or two from his older brother. Be proud. Do you talk to him often?”
I grab her wrist and bite at the offending fingertip. “When he feels like answering. He came to visit me after I got released. I thought it was him when Stefano’s lacky knocked on my door. Beck was the one to discover I was gone since he planned to stay the night at my place that night.”
Blakely cringes. “I bet that really freaked him out.”
“Pretty sure he was more upset about how the accusations. The cops immediately assumed I ran off. That didn’t go over so well with my brother. I’ve smoothed things over with him, though.”
She smooths a palm over my chest. “Good. When will I get to meet him?”
A grunt leaves me as I consider our conversation earlier this week. Beckett was driving to some music festival with a couple buddies he just met. “Good question. He’s a bit tough to nail down.”
“Well, I’m glad you have him. Does he visit your parents?”
“More than me.” But that’s not a stellar scale of measure.
“That’s so odd. I can’t picture them welcoming him home with open arms whenever he’s in the mood to drop by.”
“You’ve pegged him well.”
“Thirty seconds and I’ve got him all figured out. He sounds like a riot.”
“I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that.” I can almost picture his shit-eating grin as the words leave my mouth.
Blakely is quiet for a moment, drawing more invisible patterns with her nails against the sheet. “How hard will it be to make amends with your parents?”
“It’s definitely overdue. I’m sure it will happen one day. Maybe you can help.”
A strangled choke manages to escape her throat. “Whoa, let’s not be hasty. They’ll probably blame me for trying to trap you.”
“Eh, it’s too late for that anyway. I’m happily caught.” She begins to protest, and I draw her plump bottom lip between my teeth. “Don’t think poorly of them. There aren’t gallons of bad blood spilled. I had a decent upbringing, albeit boring and rigid. My parents are genuine folks. They’re just narrow-minded in ways that we’d never agree on.”
“Maybe we should visit for Thanksgiving or Christmas. They can’t refuse to see us on a holiday.”
A brewing gurgle is already sizzling in my gut. I gulp at the acidic burn. “What about your family?”
“They can adjust. This is how blending schedules as a couple works, or so I’ve heard. It’s all about being accommodating.”
I lift a brow. “If you say so. And I believe it’s your