I’m not excited about Triple Shield trying to rub our faces in this loss. When there’s nothing we could’ve done.
I feel the disdain in my grimace. And when Ryke returns to the dry bags, he’s eyeing the mother-loving hell out of me.
“Two teams are better than one on this,” he says roughly. “Unless you have a fucking problem with Triple Shield helping look for the Jeep?”
“We don’t,” Akara says quickly, trying to keep the peace. Bringing Ryke and Daisy into our issues with Price, Greer, and Wylie is plain unprofessional. And I won’t ruin Akara’s reputation as the CEO of Kitsuwon Securities over my beef with Price’s men.
I shut my mouth.
When the gear is safely in the dry bags and clipped to the paddleboards, we all head down to the river. It’s idle here but up ahead, rapids swell and roll the water.
Price puts an inflatable kayak into the river. He’ll be kayaking beside us, while Greer and Wylie meet us at the end of the river with the vans.
I don’t have an earpiece in.
No radio.
I’m here as Sulli’s boyfriend. Same as Akara.
But I still find myself scanning the area. Vigilance sharpens my senses. Alert. No humans in sight. We shook off paparazzi somewhere around Salt Lake City, and they shouldn’t know our destination.
Less people and no paparazzi are some of the few saving graces of traveling to more remote locations.
Nature practically hums in the air. Didn’t think I’d like the outdoors as much as I’ve come to love them. But really, I think it’s because of the company I share when I’m here.
Shielding the beating sun with my hand, I see Daisy, Ryke, and Winona easily stand up on their paddleboards. My muscles tense, watching them glide around the water with clear agility and balance.
Fact: my ass has never been on a paddleboard before.
“It’s easy,” Akara says beside me as he fixes the straps of my life vest. He tightens them like he’s choking the last bit of oxygen from me.
“You trying to kill me, man?”
He laughs. “It’s supposed to be tight.”
“I’m about to take my last breath,” I refute.
Sulli pushes her board into the water. “Don’t say that.”
“Yeah, don’t say that,” Akara snaps like I invoked death into our relationship.
“You know what we are?” I tell him.
“Hot,” he answers with a self-satisfied smile.
“I was gonna say a bunch of superstitious freaks.”
Akara laughs.
I cock my head. “But yeah, we’re fuckin’ hot too.”
“And she knows it,” Akara states while we watch Sulli bite her lip and check us out. We’re in swimming trunks. Sun beats on my olive-skin, and Akara’s stab wound is visible from his waistband. The healed cut puffing in the heat.
Sulli’s life vest covers her sporty bikini top, and unlike Winona’s water-resistant cargo shorts, Sulli just wears bikini bottoms. I sweep her long, long legs like she continues to take us in, like we’re something unreal. Something she’s dreamed up from the motel on the road trip to now.
From bodyguards to boyfriends to soul mates.
My mouth curves up more.
“Is she drooling?” Akara tells me while we stare at our girlfriend.
“I think she’s blushing.”
Sulli blushes more, then kicks the reddish sand at Akara’s ankles. “If I’m drooling, it’s over Banks.”
I laugh.
Akara laughs at first too, but as soon as she spins around, his smile slowly vanishes.
“She’s kidding,” I remind him.
He pushes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know…”
Does he?
Sulli only notices Akara is second-guessing that interaction when she’s already on her paddleboard. Momentum glides her further out into the water. “Kits? Fuck. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” Akara shouts as she drifts away.
I call out, “He doesn’t think you drool over him!”
Akara shoves my arm like I pants-ed him in front of our girlfriend. “Banks.”
“What? It’s true.”
“Semi-true.”
“True enough.”
Sulli paddles closer to the shore, digging her oar in the water. “I was wrong, Kits.”
He grimaces. “No, I’m being sensitive.”
“You can be fucking sensitive,” she says. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
He winces more. Like this whole exchange is a shot to his ego.
I try not to laugh.
Akara notices, and he smiles, “Shut up, Banks.”
I can’t kill my laughter.
Sulli suddenly declares, “I wasn’t drooling over anyone. Not you, not Banks. No fucking one. Because I, Sullivan Minnie Meadows, don’t fucking drool.”
“Mic drop,” I say.
Akara is smiling more.
“Okay? We’re okay?” Sulli asks for confirmation.
“Of course we are,” Akara says strongly.
I think he should talk to her about his insecurities. But he’d rather not cast doubt in our triad. Like if he surfaces that shit, it’ll detonate the three of us, and all he wants is the three of us standing at the end together.
Maybe he’s thinking he’ll get over it on his own.
I’m not even a relationship expert, and I know pretending everything is okay isn’t better than hashing out the things that eat at you.
“Banks?” Sulli asks.
“I’m good, mermaid.”
She’s smiling, then paddles towards the center of the river.
Akara continues fiddling with my life vest.
I’m staring through him.
He’s tense. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I screwed up.”
“If you’re jealous of me—”
43
BANKS MORETTI
“I’m not jealous,” he whispers tightly, running another hand through his hair. “It’s my crap to sort through.”
“And you can’t sort it through with her because…?”
“I’m sorting through it with you.” He slaps my arm lightly.
I withhold a smile. “Like I said before, I’m not the one you need to fucking talk to about this. It’s your relationship with her that you’re second-guessing.”
He winces at that word. “I’m not second-guessing me and Sulli. Not even a fraction of a fraction, Banks. And that’s why I don’t think I should bring this up. You know how many different ways I could screw the wordage? It’s not a simple thing. It’s a feeling. Not jealousy. I just feel…” He shakes his head, unable to articulate the grinding emotion. “And then she’ll be afraid I might leave or I’m questioning what we have—when that’s not it.”
“Then tell her that.”
He exhales a strained noise and watches Sulli paddle in circles. Waiting for us. “I know I have to…I’ll talk to her…I will.”
“Now.”
“Later,” he decrees. “I’ll do it later.”