Chapter 33 #2
“I’ll eat later,” I say. “I just needed this first.”
He nods like that makes sense. “Take your time sweetheart.”
He just stays there for a second longer, watching me like he’s making sure I’m actually okay now that everything’s settled. “I’m so proud of you Haven,” he says finally.
“Yeah?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah, you handled everything, not just the match.”
I swallow. “I didn’t do it alone.”
“I know,” he says. “But you still had to do it.”
Tate shifts on the bed, the sound of the mattress creaking faintly through the open door. “Are you two done being soft, or am I getting up to interrupt it?”
“Stay where you are,” Carter calls back without looking away from me. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I am,” Tate answers. “That’s why I’m not moving.”
I let out a quiet laugh, the sound easier now. “Go lay down,” I tell Carter. “Both of you. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He hesitates, just briefly, then nods and pushes off the doorframe. “Alright. Don’t fall asleep.”
“No promises.”
He leaves the door cracked behind him, and I hear the bed shift as he settles in next to Tate, the two of them moving around each other.
“You good?” Carter asks him.
“Yeah,” Tate answers after a second. “You?”
“Yeah.”
Silence follows, and I sink a little deeper into the water, letting their voices fade into the background.
When I step out of the bathroom, the room is dim, the lights turned down low enough that it feels like a different space than when we walked in.
Carter is stretched out on one side of the bed with one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting across his stomach. Tate is beside him, half on his side, half on his back, like he laid down and didn’t bother deciding which position he actually wanted. They both have their eyes closed.
I pause for a second in the doorway, a towel wrapped around me, and just watch them.
“Done staring?” Tate asks without opening his eyes.
“Maybe,” I answer, stepping into the room.
Carter turns his head toward me, his gaze softening immediately. “You look better.”
“I feel better,” I admit.
“Good.”
I move toward the bed slowly, not rushing it, and sit on the edge between them. The mattress dips slightly under my weight, and both of them adjust without thinking, making space.
“You still riding it?” Tate asks, opening one eye to look at me.
“A little,” I say. “It hasn’t gone away yet.”
“It won’t for a while,” he says. “That’s normal.”
Carter reaches out, his hand settling lightly against my back. “We’ll leave for dinner soon,” he says. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I know Cassie will understand baby.”
I shake my head. “No, I want to. I think I need something normal before everything hits again.”
“That’s fair.”
Tate exhales slowly and shifts onto his side, propping himself up just enough to look at me properly. “You realize you’re about to walk into a room where everyone knows exactly what you did tonight.”
“I’m trying not to think about that.”
“Don’t,” he says. “Just walk in like you belong there.”
Carter’s thumb brushes once against my back. “Because you do.”
I glance between them, “Okay,” I say quietly. “Then let’s go eat.”
The restaurant Cassie picked is way too nice for a bunch of half-delirious gamers in hoodies, but none of us care.
It’s dimly lit, full of dark wood and clinking glasses, the kind of place where you expect the steak to arrive with a side of attitude and a three-digit price tag.
James smooths things over with the host—apparently him and Cassie made a reservation days ago and we’re ushered to a booth near the back, semi-private and perfect.
I slide in between Carter and Tate.
Carter’s hand finds my thigh beneath the table and Tate tosses an arm along the back of the booth behind me, casual but claiming.
Cassie eyes the arrangement and smirks. “So… table for five, huh? Not including the emotional baggage.”
“Technically that makes seven,” Tate mutters, grabbing a menu. “You forgot our crippling commitment issues.”
James laughs into his napkin and Carter groans softly beside me.
The waiter comes and our orders are made. Drinks are poured and suddenly I’m holding a champagne flute, staring at the little bubbles like they might spell out what the hell I’m supposed to say to all of this.
“I still don’t believe it.”
“You should,” Carter says, quietly. “You earned it.”
Tate knocks his glass against mine. “You demolished it, actually.”
Cassie raises hers next. “To Haven fucking Thomas. The baddest bitch in digital warfare.”
“Cheers,” James adds, smiling.
We clink glasses and eat like we haven’t had a proper meal in a week.
There’s steak and pasta and someone orders calamari just to make James squirm. We argue about video game bosses, Cassie and Tate debate horror movies until the entire table is crying with laughter, and I nearly choke when Carter says something soft.
The night winds down slow. Cassie hugs me three separate times before they finally head out, promising to meet us back at my place tomorrow if we’re awake before she has to go to work. I doubt we will be.
We step outside, the night air is cooler than I expect, sharp enough to cut through the warmth that’s been sitting under my skin all evening. I inhale slowly, letting it settle.
Carter’s hand finds mine again, his fingers threading through mine. Tate moves in closer on my other side, his shoulder brushing mine briefly before he lets his arm rest across the back of my shoulders.
No one says anything right away, we just stand there for a second, letting the night catch up to us.
“You still with us?” Carter asks finally.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I think it’s finally starting to feel real.”
Tate huffs quietly. “Took you long enough.”
I glance at him, a small smile pulling at my mouth. “I needed a minute.”
“You took more than a minute,” he says. “You took a whole day.”
Carter laughs softly under his breath, squeezing my hand once. “She earned it.”
Tate tugs me closer. “So, you ready to be ruined all over again?”