15
Flynn
I needed space.
Needed to breathe in air not tinted with Saige’s sweet scent, fill my eyes with beauty outside a long braid I thought about fisting while feasting on her neck. Her bright eyes, full of that same hunger raging through me that I tried to hide, brought me to the edge of my sanity.
Since my wounded hand kept me from being useful to Pa, I grabbed up my pack right after we ate and headed to the hills without a word. Not even a thanks for dinner or for stitching me up. Couldn’t speak one word her way—couldn’t even look at her, or I felt sure I’d ravage her, f**k the fact she didn’t belong to me.
Pa saw me go. Saw my pack, rifle slung over my shoulder, and Dog totting at my side.
He didn’t stop me from going, didn’t spew his usual s**t over my heading out—but I would
