35 - Haven
HAVEN
The storm didn’t just hit, it slammed us from all sides. One minute it was snow.
The next, it was everything.
The windshield became a blur of white, wipers slashing back and forth like they were trying to keep up with something impossible. The road disappeared in pieces. Lines vanished. Landmarks faded.
Even the sky felt too close.
“Shit,” Sebastian muttered again, from the back.
No one disagreed.
Mercer’s truck rattled beneath us, old and stubborn, the engine grinding low as Ares kept it steady. His hands were locked on the wheel, broad and sure, fingers flexing slightly every time the tires hit something uneven.
We slid. A little at first.
Then a lot.
My breath caught. Ares corrected immediately. No panic. No hesitation.
Just control.
“Relax,” he said.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t reassuring. It was a command.
And somehow — that helped more.
I shifted on the bench seat, immediately aware of how little room there actually was. Ares’s thigh pressed against mine, solid and warm. On my other side, Grayson’s arm brushed mine as he leaned forward, peering out the windshield.
“Visibility’s dropping,” he said.
Snow blasted us, head-on. It looked like we were jumping through Hyperspace.
“I noticed,” I muttered.
His mouth twitched. Even now. Like this.
“Seat choice is interesting,” he added quietly. “You always pick the worst possible place?”
“I didn’t see you volunteering to move,” I shot back.
“Didn’t think I needed to.”
That look. The one that lingered just a second too long.
I turned away, because I knew where that led.
The truck lurched again, this time harder. Grayson’s arm shot out — across me — bracing against the dash. His hand pressed just past my shoulder. Close enough that I felt it.
Close enough that my pulse jumped.
Ares didn’t look at either of us. His eyes were locked on what was left of the road.
“Stay still,” he said.
That was it. But something about the way he said it made my stomach go tight.
“Statistically,” Sebastian said, voice steady despite everything, “middle seat has the highest survival rate.”
Grayson and I groaned.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just accurate.”
The storm thickened. Snow slammed against the windshield now; heavier, faster. The world outside was reduced to streaks and shapes that didn’t hold still long enough to matter.
Another slide.
Longer this time.
“Should we stop?” I asked nervously.
Ares grunted. “Stop where?”
“I don’t know, just—”
Another jolt ended my sentence, halfway through. My hand moved without thinking, grabbing Ares’s forearm. Beneath my palm, it felt solid and unyielding.
He didn’t react. Didn’t look down. But I could feel the subtle tightening, beneath my fingers.
The truck corrected again. Barely.
“Road’s disappearing,” Grayson said quietly.
Ares didn’t answer, and a silence settled over the cab. The kind that pressed in on all sides. I focused on the hum of the engine, the rhythm of the wipers. The steady warmth of the truck’s stubborn heater, still pumping after all these decades.
I was aware of all of it.
But most of all, I was aware of them.
Ares, right beside me. Heat rolling off him like he burned at the core.
Grayson, too close. Too aware. Too much unfinished business between us.
Sebastian, behind me. Watching. His knee pressed into the seat beneath me.
I felt that too.
God.
This was insane.
Not just the storm.
Everything.
I shifted again, which was a mistake. My leg brushed higher against Ares this time. He didn’t move, he didn’t acknowledge it.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Grayson noticed, because that was his thing. His eyes shifted to follow my legs, like he was tracking the puck across the ice.
“You good?” he asked.
His voice was lower now. Different.
“Fine,” I told him.
Lie.
The road disappeared again, and I felt his body press even more tightly into mine. We both braced for the next slip. When I looked down again his hand was on my knee, holding me there.
No one spoke. Not for a while. There was just the sound of our breathing. The gentle whoosh of the truck’s vents. The silent storm, raging around us.
And me, sandwiched between them. The heat building. The electricity, shifting around us.
Ares’s free hand dropped to my opposite leg. Then—
His thick fingers brushing the inside of my thigh.
So casual. So possessive. Like it wasn’t new.
And in that moment, I knew:
I wasn’t just aware of them anymore.
I wanted them.
All of them.
At once.
The thought hit hard. Fast.
And it scared the hell out of me.
Up ahead, the road curved. The storm eased — just enough — and faint lights appeared in the distance.
Home.
Relief came first, then something else. Because the moment we stopped—
This warm, cozy bubble of heat and electricity shattered.
And reality set in.
The truck rolled into the driveway, tires crunching over fresh snow. The house loomed ahead. Dark. Cold. Empty.
Ares killed the engine, and we breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Everyone good?” Grayson asked.
No one answered right away. Our nerves were frazzled.
“Yeah,” Sebastian said.
“Yeah,” I echoed.
Another lie.
We piled out fast, cold biting instantly through every layer. The rate of falling snow seemed to have doubled in the last hour. If we hadn’t made it in when we did, it would’ve been a total whiteout.
The wind cut sharp across the yard, snow whipping sideways like it had been waiting for us. The front door groaned open…
… and the cold inside was worse.
“Jesus,” I muttered, stepping in.
My breath fogged immediately. No heat.
Of course.
Sebastian moved toward the thermostat.
“Crank it,” Grayson said.
“I’m already trying,” Sebastian said, rubbing his hands together.
It wouldn’t be enough, though. Not fast enough. I knew that.
They knew it too.
Ares didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, looking at me.
Then—
“Hot house.”
Grayson glanced over. Then back at me.
A beat passed. Then another.
“You’re coming,” he said.
Sebastian cleared his throat, behind me.
“Yeah,” he added quietly.
My body snapped alert, as my pulse kicked into high gear.
This time—
I didn’t hesitate.