I stayed. Of course I fuckin’ did. Nash was rattled. Upset. And it was so unlike him that I’d have slept with any brother under those terms. Folk. Ranger. Hell, even Cam. At least, that was the reasoning I treated myself when I woke up the next morning pressed up against him, my hand splayed on top of his head, ignoring the multiple flaws in my thinking, including but not limited to this: would I have spooned Cam like a motherfucker and woken up carving a dick-shaped hole in his spine? That was a solid no. Fuckin’ hell.
