Chapter 43 – Alise #2
Cole whistles low, like he’s sitting front row for the execution. “He’s doomed.”
“Please,” Cooper drawls, not missing a beat. “I call dibs on his eulogy. Three words will cover it: tragic, stupid, predictable.”
“Better add in that time he forgot his pills,” Kyle barks out, never missing a chance to twist the knife. “What kind of tragic hero misses meds and breaks countertops on the same day?”
Beau groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus, I miss one refill reminder and I’ll never live it down.”
“Guess that means I get to take his side of the bed,” Kyle chimes in, smug as ever, like he’s auditioning for Most Annoying Brother of the Year.
“Kyle!” I bark, and he just grins wider, like my fury is his favorite sport.
I take a steadying breath, shove back the chaos in my chest, and hear my voice come out calm and firm. “Fine. Not in our house. If Kyle needs a place to stay, he can have Beau’s condo.”
His grin explodes like Christmas morning. “Pool, gym, free parking? Done.”
“You’re all conspiring against me.” Beau groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“Correction,” I say sweetly, leaning into his side, “we’re deciding together. That was the deal.”
His eyes cut to mine, regret swimming there, but relief, too. His shoulders ease as if he’s been holding up the roof and finally set it down.
“Together,” he echoes softly, and his fingers find mine, squeezing tight.
The word settles into me like a vow, reinforced by every laugh, jab, and ridiculous claim to furniture in this house. No one thinks we’re moving too fast. They’re treating it like it was always meant to be, as inevitable as Beau and me ending up here, his chaos baby brother and all.
It’s gentle at first, but I curl my hand into his shirt, tugging him nearer, and his sigh breaks against my mouth. The kiss deepens until the world narrows to nothing but his palm cradling my jaw and the promise thrumming there.
“Oh, my God. I’m literally scarred for life.” A groan breaks through our lust-filled haze.
We break apart just as Darius, all long limbs and teenage dramatics, squeezes his eyes shut and slaps a hand over his face. “Why do I even come around you people? Every time, every dang time…” He stumbles toward the doorway like he needs bleach for his brain.
Kyle, unbothered as ever, leans back against the counter. “Because deep down, you love us. And also because I’m obviously the best roommate option. Just saying.”
Cole pelts him with a crumpled piece of packing paper. “You’re not even living here!”
“Correction,” Kyle shoots back, smug as hell, “I’ll be living in the condo after graduation now. Major upgrade. Thanks, sis.”
“Smart women call it teamwork,” Ramona sing-songs, already unloading groceries into the pantry.
I exhale softly, because she’s right. With Michele and Ramona beside me, it doesn’t feel like me against the Hendrix brothers anymore. It feels like I’m exactly where I belong, in the thick of it, with family on every side.
“Okay, boys, enough joking. Let’s get this place unpacked before midnight.” Ramona claps her hands, getting everyone’s attention. “Cooper and Cole, to the living room with the couch and any boxes. Kyle, on pizza duty with Darius, and Michele, we’re going to head to the bedroom.”
No one argues; they just move toward their corresponding rooms, leaving Beau and me alone in the kitchen.
And it hits me, sharp and certain: I wouldn’t trade a single second of this for the world.
Not the teasing, the noise, not even the embarrassment that still makes my cheeks heat from breaking the countertop for our entire family to see.
Because this mess, this family, and this man belong to me.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Beau’s arms slide around my waist, his chest solid against my back, his voice pitched low enough to curl my toes.
“I don’t think anyone in this house wants to know what I’m thinking.”
“The kitchen’s almost finished,” he murmurs, lips grazing along the edge of my jaw. The warmth of his smile is wicked and knowing all at once. “Think we should… keep breaking the place in?”
“Beau.” My breath stutters, knees going weak under the heat of him pressed close.
“The bedroom is probably unpacked enough.” His mouth ghosts lower, grazing the spot beneath my ear. “Or the hallway. Or…”
“Sir,” I manage, pulse sprinting, the word trembling out of me.
“Ma’am,” he counters smoothly, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow, but it is still devastating.
Every slide of his lips staking a claim, every tug of his hands anchoring me against him, every sigh I give up swallowed like he owns it.
He tastes like heat and promise, and the weight of everything he doesn’t say hums through the kiss until I’m dizzy.
After I finally tear away, my forehead remains pressed to his, breathless and wanting. “Floor?”
“Sturdy.” His hands grip my hips tighter, pulling me flush against his body, leaving no question of what he wants. His mouth drifts to my ear, voice a growl wrapped in silk. “Careful, Shortcake, or this house doesn’t stand a chance.”
“I told you I don’t like that nickname.” I groan, pushing weakly at his chest even as heat pools low in my stomach, betrayal written in every tremor of my body.
“You love it. I knew it the first time I said it.” Beau chuckles, the sound deep and certain, vibrating through me.
He catches my mouth again, kissing me until thought itself dissolves.
When he finally pulls back, his words are a low rasp against my lips, rough with promise. “God, I could get lost in you.”
I’m still trying to breathe, still clinging to the edge of his shirt, when the universe reminds us we’re not alone as Kyle’s voice barrels down the hallway, far too loud.
“Pizza’s here in ten, losers!”
Beau doesn’t even flinch, his hand holding me against him like he dares the world to try to pull me away.
My pulse thrums wildly, my body aching to close the space his teasing words have opened.
I’m still clinging to him when Ramona strolls into the kitchen, eyes narrowing in on us with merciless precision.
“Well,” she drawls, smirking, “looks like the kitchen isn’t the only thing getting broken in tonight.”
Mortification slams into me, my face going up in flames. I try to wriggle free, but Beau only tightens his grip, like my squirming is nothing more than entertainment.
“The bedroom’s finished,” Ramona adds with a wink, “so try not to traumatize the rest of us, okay?”
Before I can die of embarrassment, Michele breezes in, grinning bright and wicked. “Good news, lovebirds. I’ve got the perfect distraction.”
Her eyes flick to mine for just a second, the knowing glint there making it clear she’s purposely doing this to rescue me, or maybe throwing gasoline on the fire, I can’t tell which.
She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts toward the living room, “Hey, boys! Whoever grabs plates first doesn’t have to do dishes!”
The response is instant, the entire living room erupting in chaos as bodies scramble for an advantage.
Beau’s grin curves slowly as his laugh rumbles through me. “Much obliged.”
“You’re welcome,” Ramona and Michele chime together, smug and far too pleased with themselves.
Then, without warning, he bends and hauls me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all.
“Beau!” I yelp, pounding a useless fist against his back as he strides for the hallway, my protests undercut by the giddy, traitorous heat rushing through me.
His only answer is a dark, satisfied chuckle, the kind that promises exactly what’s coming next. The bickering fades behind us, drowned out by the click of a door closing.
And just like that, another part of this house is about to be broken in.
Another part of us claimed. It feels reckless, ridiculous, maybe even a little doomed,but more than anything, it feels inevitable.
Because this is who we are now. Him, me, this house, this family.
Of course, this is where we’ve ended up. Where else could we be?