Chapter 18
Carter
Iroll out of bed as quietly as I can, careful not to wake Haven.
She didn’t sleep easy last night. I felt her stir a few times. Once, near dawn, she sat up for a minute, just breathing in the dark. I kept still, pretended to be asleep. I could tell she needed space to fight it off herself.
Now, in the quiet light of morning, she looks peaceful again—finally. The kind of peace I don’t ever want to mess with. I should get up, start the day, do something productive… but I just lie there for a minute, watching her breathe.
It’s probably a little obsessive, the way I memorize every tiny detail—the way her hair fans across the pillow, the small furrow between her brows even in sleep.
Eventually, I drag myself away from it, slipping out of bed and crossing the room to grab the clothes I laid out last night.
Jeans, hoodie, the one I know she likes seeing me in.
I pull them on slowly as I glance back at the bed.
By the time I reach the kitchen, Tate has dragged himself into the kitchen. He doesn’t speak, just pours coffee and leans on the counter beside me. We stand there drinking in silence.
“She’s out still?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He nods, and that’s it. Just the two of us breathing the same space. I glance at him, then back at my cup. “You didn’t sleep much did you?”
“Didn’t need to.”
The silence stretches, but I don’t mind it this time. I just want to keep things steady.
He sets his cup down with more force than necessary, bracing himself on the counter. Shit, something’s brewing in him. I don’t have a chance to say anything before he does first.
“Be honest Carter, since being here do you think I’m still gonna hurt her?”
“No,” I pause. “I think we both could. Without trying.”
He sighs. “She’s the only thing that feels fucking right right now,” he mutters. “I’m terrified I’m gonna wake up and she’ll want me gone, you know? I have been fucking trying my hardest, and that in itself is a fucking miracle, you fucking know this Carter.”
His voice cracks just a little, his guard slips for half a second before slamming back into place. He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “I won’t lose her, Carter. Even if it means I’m not the one winning.”
It’s the closest thing to vulnerable he’s said to me in a long time.
“I don’t want her feeling like she has to keep us both happy just to hold this together. I want her to feel safe.” I say quietly.
“She’s safer with us than anyone else,” Tate snaps. “But we’ve gotta stop acting like we’re in different fucking corners.”
That shuts me up, he’s right. We’ve been moving around each other at times like this is still a game sometimes like she’s the prize and we’re trying not to bleed for her at the same time. But she’s not a prize, she’s the fucking point. I take a breath. “Okay. Truce?”
He eyes me for a moment. “Temporary.”
I grin. “I’ll take it.”
Tate smirks, pushing off the counter. “Still not cuddling you, though.”
“You say that now.”
He grabs his cup and heads for the hallway. “Don’t hold your breath sweetheart.” Throwing a grin over his shoulder before disappearing through the bathroom door.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. Haven wanders in, drowning in one of my hoodies and her hair sticking out everywhere. I can’t help grinning, she has no idea how good she looks like this.
“Morning, baby, or technically afternoon,” pouring the last of the coffee into her favorite cup, sliding it toward.
She takes it without hesitation, fingers wrapping around it. One sip, then those sleepy eyes land on me. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She glances toward the couch where Tate’s laid out one arm flung over his face. He’s not a living room person. That’s a documented fact, I know Haven finds it hilarious when he tries hiding in the bathroom.
She stretches and groans softly, setting her cup down. “We should do something today.”
I blink. “Like what?”
“I don’t know… something outside of this apartment. Something normal.” She lifts her arms in an exaggerated yawn, “I need fresh air and overpriced snacks that aren’t delivered in a greasy paper bag.”
“So… mall food court?”
She scrunches her nose. “Close. Her eyes light up a little. “Wanna go to a movie?”
“A movie?” I echo. “Like a real one? With sticky floors and mystery soda spills?”
“Yes.”
I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “Only if we get popcorn. And I get to pick the candy.”
“You’re a sugar fiend,” she laughs, but there’s a softness in her tone, I know she’s picturing it.
Tate groans, dragging his hand down his face. “Did I hear popcorn and pain in the ass?”
Haven smiles, unapologetic. “We’re going out.”
Tate cracks one eye open. “To where, hell?”
She throws a pillow at him. “Movie.”
He groans again, but it’s more dramatic than real.
“You can pick the seats if you get up in the next five minutes,” she teases.
His eyes narrow. “You drive a hard bargain, pretty girl.”
They always fall into that easy rhythm, her teasing him and him firing right back, like they’ve been doing it their whole lives.
I shouldn’t care. I know she doesn’t like him more, doesn’t like me less.
But still, there’s this stupid twinge that hits every time she laughs at something he says.
With me, it’s different, softer. She teases, sure, but she handles me like I might break if she pushes too hard.
Tate gets her sharp edges. I get her warmth.
And God, I know I should be grateful for that but sometimes, watching them trade smirks, it stings a little more than I want to admit.
I clear my throat. “You know she’s gonna sit between us anyway. ”
Haven rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Well duh.”
She disappears down the hall to grab her bag, and I take the chance to snag Tate’s car keys off the counter. Tate’s heading for the door, the early fall afternoon air hits as we step outside. I unlock the SUV with a quick click, the sound echoing off the lot.
“Shotgun’s not up for debate,” Haven says as she hurries to walk ahead of us.
“Didn’t think it was,” I say, grinning.
She slides in first as Tate drops in behind her with that half-grump, half-smirk I can’t quite read. I circle around to the driver’s side, catching her eye as I climb in.
Humming along to the radio to fill the quiet, I steal glances at her, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the tiny crinkle at the corner of her eye when she smirks at Tate.
The theater is surprise empty. Rows and rows of seats and not a single other person. Haven stops halfway down the aisle, turning back to us with a grin that lights her whole face.
“We’ve got the place to ourselves,” she whispers.
Tate slides his hands into his pockets. “Figures. Guess the galaxy-saving blockbuster isn’t a hot ticket today.”
“Good,” Haven says, tugging me forward by the hand until I stumble after her. “Means I don’t have to share my popcorn.”
She drops into the perfect center seat, and the moment she does, I know exactly how this ends. Sure enough, Tate sits on one side, stretching out, claiming the armrest.
I settle on her other side, leaning close enough that her shoulder brushes mine. She doesn’t even pretend she’s not enjoying it.
The previews roll. She pretends to watch, legs crossed, one hand digging into the tub of popcorn balanced on her lap.
I can’t stop watching her instead, the way she licks the salt from her fingers, casual and careless, makes my stomach knot.
I press a kiss to the top of her head before I can stop myself.
She tilts her face up, and suddenly kissing her properly feels like the only option.
Her lips part under mine, sweet and soft until she jerks with a muffled gasp.
I pull back slightly to see Tate’s hand on her thigh, sliding up slow. He doesn’t even glance at her, eyes on the screen, as his fingers work higher beneath her hoodie.
She squirms, but he’s relentless, now stroking down the inside of her thigh until her knees part without her meaning to. “Relax, pretty girl,” he murmurs.
She trembles as I kiss her again, greedy, swallowing the sound she makes when Tate finally cups his hand over her pussy.
The movie’s explosions drown her sharp inhale, but I feel it all. The way she arches, the way her fingers fist in my shirt.
Tate rubs slow circles, his touch firm enough to make her moan softly. “So wet already.”
I nearly lose it. Her mouth is hot under mine, desperate, her breath breaking every time Tate presses harder. I trail kisses down her throat, whispering against her skin, “You’re perfect. Always perfect for us.”
Tate slides his hand beneath her leggings, pushing the thin barrier of her panties aside. She gasps, clutching me tighter, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers touch bare heat. “Fuck.” he groans.
I can barely breathe watching her. Her thighs shake, hips rocking against his hand, every tiny sound muffled against my mouth. I kiss her deeper, trying to keep her quiet, trying to take every whimper she can’t hold back.
Tate pushes one finger inside her slow. She jerks, biting down on a moan, her whole body tightening between us. My chest aches with how much I want her, how much I love seeing her unravel.
He works her open, steady and unhurried, then adds another finger, stretching her until she shudders. Her hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist. “Breathe,” I whisper against her lips. “We’ve got you, baby. Just let go.”
Tate curls his fingers just right, hitting the spot that makes her cry out into my mouth. I kiss her harder, swallowing the sound.
“Look at you,” fucking her slow with his hand. “Falling apart in the middle of a theater. Can’t get enough, can you?”
Her hips moving helplessly, chasing his hand. She’s panting, moaning into my mouth, body arching as he drags her closer and closer. She’s right there, teetering on the edge, trembling so hard I have to hold her steady.
And then he stops.