47. Zyran
ZYRAN
The coffee maker has been running all day, and at this rate everyone is going to need their own damn pot.
I pour another cup and add the creamer the way she likes it and then grab another water before I carry them back through to the living room, where Esperr is curled into the corner of the sectional with her legs tucked under her and her head tilted toward Sybil, who is telling her something with her hands.
Easing down, I hand her the coffee without interrupting. She takes it without looking, wrapping both hands around it, while she keeps her eyes on Sybil, and I settle back into the cushion, throwing one arm around the back before I start to rub the back of her neck.
“—and I told him the color was wrong from the beginning,” Sybil continues, “but you know how Raiden is about being told he’s wrong about something?—”
“Physically incapable,” Cyran mutters from the chair without looking up from his coffee.
Sybil snaps her fingers and points at him. “Exactly.”
“I can hear you!” Raiden calls from the kitchen.
“We know,” Sybil calls back with no heat in her voice.
Esperr chuckles under her breath, and I feel the slight shake of her shoulder against mine, and I look at the side of her face and think about how she’s been awake for hours—sat through a family breakfast and a movie—and she fits.
She hasn’t once asked me to take a break or looked like she needed a second to breathe.
Cyran leans forward slightly. “What color was it?”
“Green.” Sybil rolls her eyes.
“Okay, but what kind of green?” Cyran asks.
“A terrible one?—”
“There are many kinds of bad green?—”
“Dude, it was like vomit. A terrible, terrible green.”
Esperr makes a sound into her coffee mug that is definitely a laugh that she’s trying to contain.
Cyran sits back, clearly not ready to let this go. “That is a bad green.”
“Right, that’s what I said.”
“I just need specifics.” And just like I thought, he won’t drop it.
“Dude, vomit is not a spec—” Sybil stops and looks over at Raiden, who appears in the doorway with his arms crossed and the expression of a man who has been listening for longer than anyone realized. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” he mutters.
“The green was bad, Raiden.”
“The green was fine, Sybil.” He steps further into the room, walking towards her in the chair.
“It was the color of something that should not be on a wall.” She says, lifting her chin as he grows closer.
“It was sage.”
“It was not sage,” Sybil says, glancing over at Esperr. “Back me up.”
Esperr’s eyes widened for a second before her lips pressed together in a thin line. Glancing over at Raiden, who is now standing right next to Sybil, and then looking over at me.
“Well, I wasn’t there, nor have I seen the color,” she says carefully.
“Smart,” I mutter, squeezing the back of her neck.
She tilts her head towards me, and I can’t stop myself from leaning forward, giving her a quick kiss.
Esperr smiles against my lips before mumbling, “Thank you.”
When we pull apart, Raiden points at Esperr. “I like her.”
“Everyone likes her,” Cyran says. “That’s been established.” And for a split second I want to snap at him, wondering what the fuck that was supposed to mean, but I don’t. I see the hint of amusement in his eyes, like he’s being serious that they like her.
Rhys comes down the stairs a few minutes later, laptop under his arm, and stops when he sees the living room full of people.
He looks at it the way he looks at most things—assessing, deciding, and then blowing out a breath before he comes around and sits beside me on the sectional and opens his laptop, saying nothing.
That’s Rhys participating.
Suddenly, Slater appears in the doorway from the kitchen.
A moment later, he moves to the window and stands there, staring out at the property.
I glance at Esperr, and she’s looking around at all of them with something soft and wondering on her face, and I think she feels it too, the weight of what this room is when it’s full like this.
Sybil stands and throws her hands on her hips. “This is wonderful; let’s play a game.”
Cyran looks up, raising a brow. “What kind of game?”
“Charades.”
I groan as Cyran narrows his eyes at her. “I’m down, but I’m not on Raiden’s team.”
“What’s wrong with my team?” Raiden asks, his voice angry, though we both know he’s not.
“You’re competitive in a way that stops being fun.”
Raiden scoffs and rolls his eyes, but we all know it’s true. “I just like to win.”
“Well, I’m not on your team either,” I mutter.
“We can’t play if no one's on my team.”
“There’s Rhys and Sybil; they can be on your team.” I tilt my head towards Rhys, volunteering him to play.
“Who said I’m playing?” he asks, barely looking up from his laptop.
“Fine, then Slater can be,” Cyran says.
We all look behind the couch at Slater, who blinks over at us and gives us that look that clearly tells each and every one of us that that’s not happening.
“Is it always like this?” Esperr mumbles, leaning against my shoulder.
“Always,” I whisper back.
She looks back at the room, and I watch the smile spread across her face slowly, warmth hitting her cheeks.
“Okay, so it’ll be me, Esperr, and Slater?—”
“Slater doesn’t act,” Raiden says.
“Slater will figure it out.” Sybil glances toward the man at the window. Slater says nothing, and that’s his version of agreeing; he’s not going to play.
“Zyran, Raiden, and Cyran.”
“Absolutely not,” Cyran butts in before I can say anything.
“Why not?” Sybil asks, frowning, like he hadn’t just talked about why.
“You know why!”
“Okay, what if we did Cyran, Zyran, and me, and then Rhys will play with Sybil and Raiden,” Esperr says suddenly.
Everyone looks at Rhys, who freezes, fingers hovering over his keyboard. He lifts his gaze, circling around everyone, until they land on Esperr and then me, and just when I think he’s going to ignore us and go back to coding, he closes it, shoving the thing to the side.
Nobody moves for a second, but Sybil is the first to recover. “Okay, wonderful, we need something to write the clues on?—”
“I have notes on my phone,” Cyran says, hand reaching into his pocket.
Sybil shakes her head, climbing to her feet. “No, we’re doing it properly. Phones away.”
“Why does properly mean paper?”
“Because it does Cyran,” Raiden sighs.
Esperr leans her head back against my shoulder, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh from her slight shake and the way her lips press together. I put my hand on her thigh without really thinking about it, squeezing.
Raiden is already following Sybil while she looks for something to write on, muttering about her putting things, and Sybil explaining that she doesn’t put things anywhere.
They apparently end up in place, and Rhys opens his laptop again and then closes it like he’s reminding himself he agreed to play this.
Slater moves from the window to the chair next to Cyran and against the wall without a word, surprising me.
I look around the room and can’t help the warmth that spreads through my chest, thinking about how long it’s been since all of us were in the same space like this, just existing, smiling, and being present.
Esperr tips her head up, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I peer down at her and nod. “I’m okay.”
And for the first time in a long time, it’s not a lie.
It’s well past midnight by the time I climb into the shower, and as much as I didn’t want to, I find myself not wanting to leave.
The shower’s warm and relaxing in a way I had no idea I needed.
Today, while it had been a long time, it was good, something I haven’t had in a long time. Between breakfast, the back porch, and the charades that lasted two hours and ended with Sybil accusing Raiden of cheating at something with almost no rules, despite the fact that they were on the same team.
Sort of hard to believe all that happened all in one day.
I let the water run over my shoulders, my head dropping when I hear the bathroom door open.
I don’t move and instead listen as she closes the door, then wait thirty seconds for the shower door to slide open and Esperr to step through.
The cold air follows in after her for just a second before moving up beside me and tips her face up into the water.
Closing her eyes, I watched the tension I didn't realize she was still carrying start to leave her shoulders.
I give her a minute before I reach over and push her hair back from her face. She opens one eye, peering up at me.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hi, baby,” I say back, my voice rough.
She opens both eyes and looks at me, something in her face that’s usually locked away tight is now opened, like she’s tired enough that the walls have come all the way down. But also looks like she’s been carrying something around all day.
“You okay?” I ask, reaching for my net sponge, before pouring some body wash onto it.
Esperr tilts her head back, stepping a little out of the water as I start working the soap into her shoulders and around her back.
“Yeah… I… you know, for the first time, I didn’t think about them today.”
My hand slows for just a second before I keep going, working my way down her body.
I don’t have to ask her who she means—I know. Her parents, the basement, everything that’s happened to her.
“Good,” I say quietly.
“Is it?” She turns her head slightly, not quite looking at me, but more like she’s asking herself. “Sometimes I feel guilty about it, like moving forward means leaving them behind, and I can’t…I don’t want to leave them behind.”
I reach her ankle, moving the sponge over the top of her foot before she places a hand on the wall, letting me wash underneath, and then the other.
“You know, it doesn’t work that way.” I remind her.
“I know that,” she sighs, pausing. “Most days know that.”
The water flows between us, and all I can think about is the twenty-year-old who had her parents and went to bed one night expecting to see them the next morning.
Only to be hunted and forced to watch her father being tortured.
And then I think about the woman standing in front of me now, who laughed at charades for two hours and argued about a movie with my twin and made everyone at the breakfast table lose it over a cup of coffee.
She’s both of those people at the same time, struggling with what emotion to deal with first.
“I might not have known them or you before he took them away from you,” I say, straightening up. “But I believe they’d want today to be for you. They wouldn’t want you beating yourself up or having those negative thoughts.”
She sighs, unable to look at me.
I reach out and turn her gently so she’s facing me before I grab her chin and tilt her head up until she has no choice but to meet my eyes. The water runs down the side of her face, and she blinks against it.
“You’re allowed to have good days. You’re allowed to laugh and argue and drink bad coffee and not think about them for a few hours.” I hold her gaze as I speak. “That’s not you forgetting them. It’s surviving. And surviving is exactly what they wanted for you.”
Her jaw works slightly against my fingers. “I know,” she whispers, her voice small.
“Say it like you mean it.”
She looks at me for a long moment, hands gripping my side, before her eyes change, like she’s readying herself to believe it. “I know.”
“Good, because I’ll remind you every single day.” I tell her before leaning down and pressing my lips against her.
“That can be a long time,” she mutters against my mouth.
“Not when it comes to you,” I tell her.
She presses her lips against mine lazily.
And then she pulls back slightly, looking at me for a long moment before she grabs the back of my head, pulling me further down.
Leaning her forehead against mine, she exhales slowly, the last of the tension leaving her in one long breath.
When she lets go of my head, I wrap both arms around her, holding her head against my chest as the warm water runs over both of us.
“I love you,” I whisper against the top of her head.
Esperr presses her lips against my chest, and I know it’s her way of telling me she loves me. She might not be ready just yet, and that’s one thing I won’t push.