Page 50 of Princess

Rachel gives a dry huff of amusement that makes me immediately elevate my estimation of her age. She sounds so sardonic. Almost jaded. Like she’s had far more experience with the world than I have. “You might want to figure it out pretty quick. Because that man is going to lose his shit if anyone questions who you are to him.”

I blink, trying to work out exactly what she means by that. Whatever it is, it makes me blush even hotter.

I don’t really know why I’m so embarrassed. Just last night, Grant and I were talking about my getting pregnant, him being the dad. Surely that means it’s understood that we’re together.

But even that discussion didn’t feel like things were settled. It just gave me more questions to stew about.

More conversation has been happening while I’ve been brooding about irrelevant relationship issues, so I force myself to pay attention. After all, people are volunteering for roles here, and I want to know what job I’m going to be doing.

It takes me a minute to catch up. When I do, Mack is saying, “I need two with me. Gail, you in?”

Gail is from New Haven. She’s pleasant and competent and not a big talker. She gives a thumbs-up as her answer.

Mack has been lounging against a hay bale as he eyes the group. His gaze lands on me and stays there. “What about you, Olivia? You’re coming on this mission too, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I say immediately, pleased that he’s picked me out as a good choice to be on his team.

At the exact same time, Grant announces gruffly, “No.”

I jerk and take a step forward. “I am coming. You expect me to stay here and do nothing?”

Grant meets my eyes soberly, evidently not bothered by the fact that everyone else is hearing this conversation. “We need twenty to make this work. You’re twenty-one.”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m a part of this too, and I’m perfectly competent.”

Mack looks uncomfortable. He’s clearly the kind of person who doesn’t enjoy conflict between people who are supposed to be on the same side. I’ve always been exactly the same way, so I instinctively recognize the expression on his face.

Jackson, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to mind it at all. “More numbers are better, but only if they’re good fighters. If you can’t hold your own, better not to come.”

“I can hold my own.” I can’t believe I’m having to defend myself in this. I can’t believe Grant is letting this happen. “He trained me for years. I’m not some sort of helpless child.”

To my relief, Jackson doesn’t appear to question this statement. “In that case, there’s no reason not to add an—”

“She’s not coming,” Grant grits out.

I’m so angry I’m practically shaking with it. “That’s not your decision to make. I’m strong, and I know how to—”

I break off my declaration because an arm suddenly grabs me from behind. It’s completely out of the blue in a space I considered safe, and I’m so terrified by the attack that I react by instinct.

I do exactly what Grant taught me in this situation. I step backward into whoever is behind me and use the leverage and all my upper-body strength to flip the person right over my head so that he lands with a thud on the hay and soft dirt in front of me.

There’s a ripple of reaction through the gathered crowd, and I stare down in astonishment.

It’s Cal.Cal. Large and muscular and unfriendly and intimidating. And I just flipped him without even thinking.

I’ve practiced that move so many times with Grant, but I still can’t believe I actually did it.

“She’s comin’,” Cal announces from the ground, reaching out for the hand Rachel offers to help him back to his feet. “No more argument.”

“That was masterclass,” Mack says, grinning at me and clearly relieved that the conflict is over. “So you’re with me and Gail?”

“Yes. That sounds good.” I’m not actually sure what Mack’s role is supposed to be since I’d zoned out on some of the details, but I’m happy to do whatever if it means being with him.

I always assumed I’d be with Grant, but I don’t want to even look at him at the moment.

He’s glaring at me coldly. I can feel it. But I don’t meet his eyes, and he doesn’t say anything else.

He’s not happy, but neither am I.

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