Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(78)

“Considering that thing is glued to your hand most of—” Logan huffs, waving me off when I pull my cell out, feeling a short vibration. “Baby steps, I guess.”

Mia: Hey, while you’re with your older brothers, could I go out with the younger three?

No.

No, baby, stay home. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, is what I want to reply.

There goes my mellow composure...

Images of Mia dancing at the club fill my head. Her delicate moves, hips swaying while her fingers run up and down her sides, lipsyncing every song. Bliss on that pretty face. How oblivious she is to the men staring, craving what’s mine.

Looks like Toby was wrong. Not even the triplets can take Mia out without my mind going into fucking overdrive. I want to leave the bar, drive to her house and spend the night making her moan in my ear, then strangle my brothers in the morning for even thinking that taking my girl out is a good idea.

I toss the phone on the table. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Theo asks, his eyebrows pulled together.

“Mia wants to go out with the triplets.” I get up, the screaming in my mind not letting me sit still. I grip the back of the chair with both hands like it can anchor me in place. “Cheeky fuckers waited until I made plans and swooped in.”

“Very tiny baby steps,” Logan mutters, resting his elbows on the table. “You have a long way to go. She’s going out for a drink. You know the triplets will keep her safe. What’s the problem? You’re acting crazy... and I’m more comfortable with that than you smiling, so hit me. What’s going through your head?”

I know I’m acting crazy. He doesn’t have to tell me. I’m in low gear with Mia, but my protectiveness never hit as high.

She’s young. She should have fun, enjoy life, and get the parties out of her system. I fucking know all this. That line is a mantra I recite ten times a day to keep myself in check.

I don’t want Mia to miss out. She’s been slowly opening up about the bullying, telling me gory stories about the harassment and humiliation she suffered for years. She never had real friends, always alone, always verbally and mentally abused. It’s a fucking miracle she’s still trying to find her place. That she’s capable of trusting the triplets not to act like everyone else and that my temper didn’t scare her off at the start.

She never went to prom; missed every homecoming dance, every football game, every high school, and college party. Years of fun lost, years of experiences and memories never made.

I don’t want her to look back in ten years thinking she should’ve partied instead of being with me. But... if I could, I’d lock her in a padded room on a deserted island.

Mia shouldn’t ask for permission.

I have a love-hate relationship with her insecurity. I love when she’s timid around strangers, but I hate when she’s like that with me. And she is more and more often the longer we’re together, like she’s afraid that one day I’ll up and fucking leave.

That text shouldn’t be a question. It should be a statement. I’m going out with the triplets. I’ll call you when I’m home. That’s what she should’ve said.

But she didn’t.

“Nico,” Theo urges. “They’ve been friends long before you two met. She’ll be fine.”

I hate when he’s right. I can’t smother her. She already lets me get away with a lot of shit.

“I know she should go out and that I can’t be with her all the time.” I bang my fists on the table, inhaling a deep breath. “I can’t keep her safe if she’s out alone.”

“She won’t be alone,” Logan points out. “Of all people, the triplets won’t let a hair fall off her head, so what’s this really about? You’re jealous? You need to trust her. She’s a good kid.”

It has nothing to do with trust. I trust Mia more than I trust myself. She doesn’t look at other men, she doesn’t encourage anyone, and she keeps herself safe.

Jesus, she broke Brandon’s nose, for fuck’s sake. She’s not helpless. She just looks it, and that’s messing with my head.

I take another deep breath, sit down, and grab my phone. Mia’s pretty face smiles from the screen, muting the incessant buzzing blanketing my thoughts as I dial.

“Hey,” she answers. I can tell from the tone of her voice she’s uncertain. That she’s questioning texting me in the first place. “I don’t mind staying home.”

A tight rope ties itself around my chest. “You’re not staying home. Go, Mia. Have fun, but I want to know sooner next time so I can drive you.”

She’s silent for a whole ten seconds. “Are you sure? I wasn’t allowed to go out with Aisha—”

“That’s different. And I never said you’re not allowed. You’re mine, baby, but I don’t own you. I don’t make your decisions, I keep you safe, and I don’t trust Aisha to do that.”

“Do you trust your brothers? I don’t want you to worry.”

Like that’s a possibility.

Honest to God, I never stop thinking about Mia. I never stop worrying, and I’m pretty sure I need professional help to fix whatever the fuck is wrong with my head because it can’t be normal that I want to have her wrapped in my arms all the time.