20 #3
“It has tattoos,” I said.
“And a semi-pro schedule,” Bliss added.
Charm’s mouth fell open. “This is why I don’t tell either of you things.”
“You don’t tell us things because denial is your cardio,” I said.
Easton looked almost confused by the way the words came out of me, dry and easy, and something in his face softened so fast I had to look away.
Bliss abandoned her blanket on the back of a kitchen chair and marched toward me. “Okay. We’re leaving, but I need to say goodbye dramatically because I’m concerned and invested.”
“You’re always dramatic.”
“I’m the bride. It’s legally encouraged.”
She wrapped both arms around me, squeezing too tightly. “Text me if you need me. Not a brave little punctuation mark. Words.”
“I send excellent punctuation.”
“You send emotional Morse code.”
Charm stepped in next, hugging me with one arm while keeping the pretzel bowl tucked safely against her ribs. “If he says anything stupid, call me.”
Easton’s brows lifted. “I’m standing right here.”
“I said what I said.”
“She will call you,” Bliss told Charm, then looked at Easton with the kind of sweetness that had probably preceded several Bennett family crimes. “And I will call Cade.”
Easton nodded once. “Fair.”
Bliss blinked. “I expected more resistance.”
“I’ve met Cade.”
“That does save time,” I said.
Charm turned to Easton, more serious now. “Don’t make us regret leaving.”
His face sobered. “I won’t.”
Bliss studied him for a second, then nodded like she had decided to accept the answer under protest. “Good. Also, your hoodie is dripping on our floor.”
He looked down. “Sorry.”
And I, a woman of dignity and emotional restraint, apparently chose that moment to say, “He’s housebroken most of the time.”
Easton’s head turned slowly toward me.
Bliss gasped with delight.
Charm pointed at us both. “That. That right there. That is why we’re leaving. The banter has returned, and it’s foreplay with better vocabulary.”
“Out,” I said, pointing toward the door.
Bliss grabbed her phone and keys from the coffee table. “We’re going.”
Charm took two steps, then came back for the gummy worms.
“Really?” I asked.
“What if Ryan has no snacks?”
Easton coughed into his fist.
Charm’s eyes narrowed. “Not a word from you, ancient history.”
His mouth twitched again. “Wouldn’t dream of it, cashmere chaos.”
Bliss stopped dead at the door. “Oh, that was good.”
“It was decent,” I admitted.
Charm looked between us with open suspicion. “I dislike both of you finding rhythm while I’m vulnerable.”
“You’re going to Ryan’s,” Bliss said. “You are not vulnerable. You are moisturized and dangerous.”
“I am going to an undisclosed secondary location.”
“His apartment,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“Text when you get there,” Bliss told her.
Charm gave her a look. “You text when you get to Cade’s.”
“I’m engaged. My location is legally boring.”
“Your fiancé owns a panic room.”
“That was one time.”
Easton looked at me. “Do I ask?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Bliss hugged me one more time, softer now. “You okay?”
I looked at Easton.
He stood in my kitchen, soaked and exhausted in a KFU Fury hoodie, his bruised mouth healing, wrapped knuckles at his side, eyes on me like he had walked through every version of his anger and still ended up at my door.
“No,” I said honestly. “But I want to hear him.”
Bliss nodded, kissed my cheek, and let me go.
Charm touched my arm as she passed. “You don’t have to solve everything tonight.”
Easton’s voice came quietly from behind us. “I know.”
Charm looked at him, then nodded once.
That was all she gave him. For Charm, it was practically a signed treaty.
The door finally closed behind them, but their voices carried down the hall almost immediately.
Bliss whispered, “I’m telling you, five minutes.”
Charm whispered back, “Seven if he keeps talking about forgiveness.”
“I still think five.”
“Ryan is picking me up in three, so I refuse to be involved in the timeline.”
I closed my eyes. “They know we can still hear them.”
Easton’s gaze stayed on the door. “I think they want us to.”
“Subtlety has never been their ministry.”
“Noted.”
Their footsteps faded, along with another burst of whispering that sounded suspiciously like Bliss saying, “Use protection emotionally and otherwise,” before Charm shushed her so loudly it defeated the purpose.
Then the apartment settled.
No movie. No snack bags crinkling. No Bliss and Charm turning terror into commentary so I didn’t have to stand alone inside it.
Just the kitchen.
The rain.
Easton.
Me.
He looked at me from across the small space, water dripping from his hoodie onto the floor between us, and whatever almost-laughter had been in his face faded into something rawer.
“I didn’t come here to ask you to make it easy for me,” he said.
My fingers curled around the edge of the counter. “Good, because I don’t know how.”
“I know.” He swallowed, and the movement dragged my eyes to his throat before I forced them back up. “That’s why I’m here.”
The silence after that was softer than it had any right to be.
And for the first time in days, it didn’t feel empty.