Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,106

began.

“Oh yuck, yeah . . . well let’s nip that one in the bud right now,” Patrick interrupted while wearing a firmly set look of pure disgust. “Regardless of whatever happens, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t ever, ever refer to me as your brother again.” Patrick gave an exaggerated shiver.

“Uh, I second that one,” Huxley added sheepishly.

“You do realize that Lois probably has sent out a mass newsletter to everyone by now. They’ll be planning our wedding within the week!” I exclaimed. Patrick gave me a sideways glance and bit his lip.

“You’d look good in red,” Patrick whispered.

“Red?”

“It’s tradition for brides to wear red,” he replied.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Huxley begged. “Look, just ignore them, we did you a favor. Now Lois will stop bringing suitors to the Bakery, and you can go about your day. We know the truth, and that’s all that matters. None of us are fucking courting you,” Huxley said with such conviction that each beat of my heart felt like the crunching gravel beneath his feet. It was nice to pretend that this was a reality; that I could have all of them, but once again, Huxley doused me in an ice cold bucket of reality.

“Well, look who’s being the dick now,” Patrick said to Huxley while rolling his eyes and taking my box of treats and piling it on top of his. “Go on back to the Bakery, sweetie, I’ll see you tonight,” Patrick told me. He somehow managed to juggle the three boxes he was carrying and kiss my cheek.

Before leaving, I decided to make it known that I could have handled the situation without their help. “For the record,” I began with a frown. “I didn’t need your help. Maybe I wanted to get to know Norman and—and…what was his name again?” My anger fizzled out as I tried to remember his name.

Huxley didn’t dignify my statement with a response. Instead, he simply stomped off like he usually did when he was feeling particularly moody. Once Huxley was out of sight, Patrick placed the boxes on the dirt ground and stormed towards me.

“For the record,” Patrick said while grabbing my face in his hands. He had a determined, steely look in his eyes. “This courtship between you and me? It’s real,” he said before placing a firm, chaste kiss upon my lips. I wanted to linger in the sensation, but he pulled away, picked up his food, and followed after Huxley.

Chapter Seventeen

Cyler called a Leadership Council meeting the next day. He insisted I attend and make his favorite dinner. For the first time since my birthday, Cyler, Huxley, Patrick, Maverick, Jacob, and Kemper were all in the same place at the same time, and I was giddy with excitement. Although I craved one on one time with each of them, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to their group. Together they were vibrant and full of life. They brought out the best in each other, the best in me.

Cyler watched me cook from his perch at the dinner table while he occasionally typed on his tablet. We were waiting for the others to arrive—as always, they were working up until the last possible minute.

“What’s the meeting about tonight, Cy?” I asked while putting my casserole dish in the oven.

Cyler looked up at me and gave me a forced smile while turning off his tablet and setting it down. “I’d prefer to wait and discuss it whenever we’re all together, babe,” he replied.

I couldn’t help but slump my shoulders at this. The last time Cyler ‘surprised’ me with something, it was Jules’ and Josiah’s engagement.

“Should I be worried?” I asked, still feeling persistent.

“I don’t think so,” was all Cyler said in response. His assurance fell flat, and I grumbled at his inability to just spit it out.

One by one, each of the others began to arrive. Jacob greeted me with a flirty smile and a kiss on the cheek before dipping his finger in the homemade ice-cream I made this morning.

“What did we even eat before you came along?” he mused while swiping another finger-full and walking upstairs to shower before the dinner meeting.

Patrick and Huxley arrived next. Huxley greeted me with a nod and a small grin, which was more than he usually graced me with these days, and in usual Patrick fashion, I was plucked from the stove and spun around while he sang silly nursery rhymes. A few days ago, I casually