Chapter 9
Tate
Iwake up to the sound of soft laughter, which is unacceptable this early even if it does come from the mouth I’d do anything for. And to.
They’re in the kitchen clattering dishes. The couch creaks under me as I sit up, my spine aching like I lost a fight in my sleep. Probably did. I shove the blanket off and blink against the light leaking in through her too-cheerful living room windows.
Carter’s voice floats across the room. “—need more cinnamon in the batter.”
“It doesn’t need anything, it’s perfect.”
I groan into the nearest couch cushion. Of course he’s in there helping her make breakfast.
I need caffeine before I witness any more of this. Dragging myself off the couch I run a hand through my hair, rub the sleep from my face, and walk into the kitchen.
Haven’s in one of Carter’s hoodies. I just memorize the way the fabric bunches at her thighs while I file away the exact color so I can make sure the next one she wears is mine.
Carter’s at the stove, flipping pancakes. He looks up and grins at me like it’s a normal morning. “Morning,” he says, cheery as hell.
I raise a brow. “Did I fall into the twilight zone?”
Haven laughs and hands me a cup. “Drink this before you insult my aesthetic.”
I take it. Sip. Immediately forgive the world. “Thanks.”
She perches on the counter, swinging her legs. Which is a problem, I’m not sure how long I can play nice before I remind her just how much darker things get when it’s my turn.
We’re supposed to be chill. That’s the vibe or whatever Carter said when we packed up our gear and drove the fifty damn miles to her place just to hang out, to be normal, to see her.
But watching Haven in that hoodie has already thrown off my ability to behave. I take my cup back into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table.
The curtain rod near her couch is loose and has been driving me insane since I went to bed. I don’t say anything while I find the screws in her junk drawer and tighten the brackets. When she walks in, blinking at the now straight curtain, I just shrug.
She smiles. “Thank you.” She glances toward the hallway. “You guys can set up in my room for now. Just until I clear some space in the living room.”
“Your room?”
“Temporary, the recliner’s open. Carter can take the bed.”
The hallway feels too narrow as we follow her. Her room now smells a little like Carter. His jacket is slung across the back of her chair. One of his books is half-open on the nightstand.
Carter sits on the edge of her bed as I drop into the recliner.
She stands in the doorway, watching us both for a second longer than necessary. “I’ll give you guys a minute,” she says softly, and disappears down the hall.
I crack my knuckles, sitting back to refresh my Twitch dashboard.
The door creaks and Haven slips back into the room and makes a beeline for her desk. Legs folded beneath her as she drops into her chair and adjusts her headset. I can see the way her lips twitch before she even speaks.
She taps a few keys and her stream lights kick on. The glow hits her just right, painting her in soft gold and shadows. My chest tightens.
She leans forward to her chat feed. “Okay, yes, yes, I see the messages. Carter’s here, you don’t have to spam me, I swear.”
[Chat Log]
milkdrinker69: CarterRRRRR
Smashlee_98: OUR SUNSHINE STREAMER BF
CKupRoyale: protect him at all costs
Morb3lla: marry him rn
I roll my eyes so hard it nearly gives me a migraine.
She glances over at me. “And yes, before you riot, NoOneGhost is also here.”
I adjust my mask before I lean into the camera. “Try not to cry about it.”
[Chat Log]
TessYourLuck: we are not safe
missclickqueen: this man scares me in a sexy way
Carter laughs, Haven does too. I stare at the way she smiles at the screen, the way her fingers move across her keyboard like she’s dancing.
At the way her laugh dips low when someone from chat calls her “gamer girl royalty.” I hate that they get to see it.
I hate that they think they know her. My jaw ticks. My grip tightens on the laptop.
Carter kicks his foot out at mine, oblivious. “We doing squads after this?”
“Sure,” I mutter. “Just gotta remind your fan club who she actually belongs to.”
Haven glances at me sharply and Carter frowns faintly, like he caught the edge in my voice but isn’t sure how to check me for it.
I hit “go live.”
Carter’s laptop is propped open on her bed, laughing like this is all lighthearted fun. He reads her chat, smiles at their chaos, plays along.
Haven’s front and center. Fully in her element, flushed with adrenaline. She’s radiant and her chat is eating it up.
[Chat Log]
Neoncherry: haven’s carrying this squad again
KillSwitch95: where’s ghost??? is he sulking in the corner lol
Rubydaberry: I’d let her yell at me mid-match, honestly
missclickqueen: Carter LOOKS SO SOFT
I narrow my eyes behind the mask and lean into my mic. “I’m not sulking. Just thinking.”
Haven smiles at her camera. “Ghost is mad I’m out-fragging him.”
“That implies you ever weren’t,” Carter says, winking. She laughs, and the sound hits me low in the gut.
I lean back in the chair with my arms crossed. “You all talk a lot for people who couldn’t survive two seconds in my lobby.”
[Chat Log]
Toxicpixie: K I N K
lilsadshooter: ghost please ruin me
Neoncherry: haven blink twice if you’re safe
She mutes her mic, face turning toward me, just slightly. “You okay?”
I don’t answer. I’m watching her talk to people who don’t know her. People who think they do. Who see the funny, flirty, powerful version of her and assume that’s the whole picture. It’s not. I clench my jaw behind the mask.
Carter says something to the stream about a break or hydration check, and it makes her smile again.
I don’t hear it. All I can hear is the sound of her voice, not saying my name. The stream ends clean, with one final round of chaos in chat and a promise from Haven to go live again soon.
Carter shuts his laptop with a little satisfied sigh. “That went well.”
Haven stretches her arms overhead and groans. “If by ‘well’ you mean I carried both of your personalities on my back for three hours, then yeah. Excellent.”
I don’t say anything as I pull my mask off and set it down beside my water bottle on the night stand. My face still feels hot beneath it.
The stream’s off and Carter’s heading out of the room like he’s on autopilot headed toward the kitchen like his body knows it needs fuel before his brain catches up.
I follow. Mostly because I need water. And space.
We drift into the kitchen without saying much. Haven’s digging through a cabinet looking for a snack. Carter leans against the counter, fidgeting with her fridge magnets.
I glance toward the hall and mutter “I need to bring my tower next time. That laptop setup is fucking punishment.”
Carter snorts into the fridge. “I told you that thing is ancient.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well never again.”
She moves around the kitchen as if she didn’t just hold every part of my attention hostage for hours.
I rinse my water bottle in the sink just to have something to do.
The rush of the faucet doesn’t drown it out—the sound of her laughter, the echo of her voice, the faint burn still crawling up my spine from how close she sat, from how far she felt.
She’s slicing potatoes, tossing them in a pan with butter and garlic, the smell wrapping around me like something I didn’t ask for but need anyway.
Carter’s by the fridge, digging for drinks. “You want a soda or…?”
“Caffeine,” I say. He tosses me a can of something citrusy. I catch it one-handed.
Haven glances back. “Ghost gets grumpy when he’s hungry. Noted.”
I meet her eyes, slow and deliberate. “Ghost gets grumpy when people flirt with what’s his.”
The moment hangs long enough for Carter to pause mid-pour and for her to look down at the pan like it might rescue her.
She doesn’t push it. Instead, she finishes cooking in silence, her posture softer now.
We eat together on the couch, plates balanced on knees, casual commentary about how terrible Carter is at knife mechanics in-game, Haven snorting soda when he calls himself her “support main boyfriend.”
I stay quiet. Mostly. I’m watching her again. Always watching.