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As Knox stared down at me, his normal serious face gentled a little. “Thank you for saving my brother.”
Wet, pink strands fell to my shoulders. I will not cry over hair. I will not cry over hair. With a clenched jaw, I plugged in the hairdryer I had just bought during our trip to town and began drying my hair. By the time I was done, I felt…I felt a lot. Sadness was the stronger emotion weighing on me, because I didn’t see myself in the mirror. I saw Shayla. Her hair had been a light cotton-candy pink, but mine was a little bit darker. It was more of a pink rose color, but it was close enough to play tricks on my eyes. When said eyes began to burn, I forced myself to look away. To avoid the
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I wanted to go for a run. The type of run that would make me feel sore for days. I wanted to feel that hurt. I almost craved it. Because it was a bearable, controlled type of pain, unlike everything I was feeling right now.
Knox came up next to us. “I got this, Creed,” he assured his little brother and a look passed between them. Creed reluctantly backed away, letting go of me completely. Knox took his place in front of me. The intensity of his stare and the way he towered over me made me feel like he was blocking out the rest of the world. Knox was the strongest out of the five of us. I found myself leaning toward him and resting my forehead against his chest, hoping to absorb a little bit of his strength.
“You’re feeling possessive.” He sighed through his nose. “Yes and no. I know that makes me a fucking bastard, but you’re mine. Someone hurt you when you should’ve been with me, and I can’t fucking stand it.”
“Still a brat, even with my fingers buried deep in your pussy.” Having a filthy mouth was undoubtedly a Stone trait. “You love it,” I whined.
“I swear, the ego you Stone boys have—”
“Dirty Stone boys.”
