Chapter 39
Haven
It’s been three days since I moved in, and I still don’t know where half my stuff is.
Which is how I’ve ended up on my knees in the middle of the gaming room, elbow-deep in a cardboard box trying to untangle my streaming setup without yanking my own hair out.
I blow a strand of hair out of my face and hold up two nearly identical HDMI cords. “Why the hell do I own this many?” I mutter, dropping them beside my tower with a defeated sigh.
Behind me, the hallway creaks. I hear the low scrape of a dresser drawer and the pop of an energy drink being opened.
Carter wanders into the doorway first, his shirt half-tucked, tie slung over his shoulder like he hasn’t quite committed to being a functioning adult yet. Tate follows close behind, fully dressed but with the sleeves of his black button-down shoved up to his elbows.
“Did you seriously unpack all this all?” Carter asks, stepping over a pile of bubble wrap and kneeling beside me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, wiggling a USB hub in his direction. “And I refuse to stream from your setup one more time. I need my chaos back.”
Tate leans in the doorway, sipping from a cold brew can. “Could’ve waited till we got home. You know. The ones with actual muscles.”
“You mean the guy who strained his back carrying my candle tote?” I shoot back.
Carter raises a guilty hand. “That thing was heavy.”
“I didn’t ask for help,” I say sweetly, reaching for the nearest HDMI cable and stretching just enough to make both of them look.
Carter groans. “She’s doing it on purpose.”
“She’s always doing it on purpose,” Tate grins, stepping closer. “You think she accidentally bent over like that?”
“I’m literally setting up my desk.”
Tate leans forward. “You’re setting us up.”
Their hands brush over my thighs, my hips, down the backs of my legs and I freeze in place.
Carter’s voice is low now. “You’re really trying to make us late?”
“Me?” I blink innocently. “I’m just setting up to stream.”
Tate slides his hand around my waist, pulling me against the hard line on his thigh as
Carter kneels in front of me, his eyes bouncing from my mouth to my thighs and back again. “Tate, we really don’t have time.”
Tate’s mouth brushes my ear. “Then we better not waste any.”
I should protest. Remind them both they have to go to work and that Cassie is showing up in less than—shit, twenty minutes? But then Carter slides both hands up my bare thighs and all my good intentions dissolve.
“Look at her,” Tate groans. “She’s wet, isn’t she?”
Carter nods, his hands trembling slightly as he pushes the hoodie higher, exposing the thin strip of lace beneath. “She’s soaked.”
My breath hitches as his fingers hook in the waistband and slowly tug it down, his knuckles brushing the inside of my thighs, making me shiver. He presses a kiss to my knee, then higher. Then again, to the soft crease where my leg meets my hip. His voice is breathless. “We’re gonna be so late.”
Tate crouches behind me now, his chest pressed to my back, his hand spreading over my stomach, keeping me still as Carter finally dips forward and presses his lips against my clit.
I gasp and Carter moans in response. “Fuck, baby…”
Tate tightens his grip. “Don’t let her come.”
Carter lifts his head, dazed. “What?”
I whimper, caught between a groan and a sob. “Tate—”
“Not yet.” He nips at my shoulder. “We’re already running late, pretty girl. Don’t you want a reason for us to rush back home later?”
Carter makes a wounded noise. “You’re evil.” His mouth returns to me, softer this time, teasing. His tongue circles my clit once then disappears again like he’s deliberately punishing me for Tate’s order.
I grab the hem of the hoodie, fists clenching it tight.
Tate’s fingers slide up between my legs to replace him, rubbing me in slow, tight circles that make my knees tremble. “Don’t come,” he warns. “Hold it.”
Carter kisses the inside of my thigh. “You’re doing so good, baby.”
I nod, blinking hard.
And then Tate pulls away. Carter does too. I nearly fall forward, my body jerking with the loss of contact.
“What the actual fuck—”
Tate shrugs. “Cassie’s gonna be here in ten.”
I spin around glaring. “You two are demons.”
Carter grins, almost looking like he wants to apologize but won’t. “You started it.”
“Finish setting up your desk, pretty girl.”
“Are you serious?”
Carter chuckles and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Think of it as… motivation.”
I stay kneeling on the rug for a moment too long after they leave. Motivation, my ass. They’re gonna pay for this.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been sitting on the floor until the they start moving around like they’re caught in fast-forward. Tate’s slinging on a hoodie.
“We’ve got ten minutes before we’re officially late,” Carter says, glancing at his phone.
Tate grunts in agreement, brushing past with his keys in hand. “Eight. If I drive like I hate everyone.”
“You do hate everyone,” I call out to him.
He stops at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “Exactly.”
I smile as Carter crouches in front of me, and presses a kiss to my cheek and then my forehead.
“You okay here today?”
“I’ll be good,” I whisper back, fingers curling in the front of his hoodie. “I’m doing the grand tour with Cassie. I might even vacuum.”
His eyes narrow, skeptical. “Do you even know where the vacuum is yet?”
“Nope,” I grin.
He groans and cups my face one more time, his thumb brushing under my bottom lip. “You’re making it really hard to leave.”
“That’s because we shouldn’t leave.” Tate calls from downstairs as he stands near the front door.
I push to my feet, and follow Carter downstairs. I turn to Tate and yank him down by the front of his hoodie, dragging his mouth to mine.
“Go to work,” I tell them gently. “Be productive.”
Tate grumbles something about capitalism and soul-stealing schedules. Carter lingers a second longer, then finally follows, whispering, “Love you Hav” just before the door clicks shut behind them.
The doorbell rings about 10 minutes after they leave.
I open the door and Cassie pulls me into a hug. “House tour, bitch,” she says after letting go, “And don’t half-ass it. I want secrets. I want details.”
I laugh so hard I nearly spill the smoothie I’ve been stress-sipping and step back to let her in.
She steps inside and it doesn’t feel weird. It doesn’t feel like I’m bringing someone into someone else’s house. It feels like I’m welcoming her into mine.
“Okay wait, first things first. I dumped James.” She says it like it’s a victory, but her nose crinkles just a little. “He was… weird. Too much ‘I’m mysterious’ and not enough actual personality.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah, mysterious is one thing. Creepy is another, I thought he seemed okay though?”
“Exactly what I thought too! And don’t even get me started on his… let’s call it ‘equipment.’” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Tiny.”
“Gross. But also, not surprising… but hey Carter has a best friend.” I shrug casually. “You might even like him, could be fun if you ever meet him.”
“Oh? Should I be worried about bestie competition?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, he’s more of a… reliable distraction. Not weird, not tiny, not James-level nightmare.”
She snorts, spinning back toward the couch. “Good to know. I’ll file that under ‘potential hookups to consider.’”
“I’m not sure that one’s not exactly normal either. But he’s solid according to Carter.”
She laughs again, letting her bag fall to the floor. “Okay, I trust your judgment. “Okay,” she says, scanning the front hall. “Start talking. Where do they keep the snacks? Where do they keep their shame? Do you have a shared calendar or is it just feral chaos?”
“Mostly feral chaos, but I bought a whiteboard last night. It has color-coded magnets.”
She stares at me. “You domestic little bitch.”
I drag her into the kitchen first, pointing out the spice rack Tate reorganized “for optimal seasoning rage,” the three different types of milk in the fridge, and the weird snack drawer Carter made called the goblins stash. It’s mostly fruit snacks and protein bars and a terrifying amount of jerky.
“You know what this means, right?” Cassie says, leaning against the counter.
“What?”
“You’re a throuple now. With a goblin stash.”
“Oh my God—”
“No, listen, I’m happy for you. Genuinely. I just need you to know you’ve leveled up into a fully committed, potentially feral domestic polycule. There’s no going back.”
I cover my face with both hands. “I cried when I saw the porch light get replaced with a new one right away when I told Carter his was going out. Don’t make me cry again.”
She softens immediately, stepping forward to squeeze my wrist gently. “Hey. I’m just giving you shit. You know that, right? This is good. Like, so good.”
I nod. “It feels good. It feels real. Like… my stuff is here. My desk. My cables. My life.”
“You’re not splitting weekends anymore.”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m not.”
We move through the living room where she inspects the couch for structural integrity with a side-eye that says she knows exactly what’s gone down here before I lead her down the hall.
The office-slash-streaming room gets a full gasp. We had all decided to move our set ups into the same room.
“This is so you,” she says, touching the edge of my mic arm. “And that’s definitely Tate’s terrifying little mask shelf, right?”
“Correct.”
“He’s so scary. I love him.”
We end the tour in my room the room that’s mine now, really mine. My shelves are cluttered with candles, art prints, and too many Funko Pops.
I don’t realize I’m crying again until Cassie wraps her arms around me and says, “Okay, you have ten seconds before I start crying too and it gets gross.”
“I just—” My voice breaks. “I can’t believe this is my life now.”
“Believe it,” she whispers. “You built this. You chose this.”