Chapter 27 #3
Just like that, the stretched bands of tension winding around all of us snapped free, leaving only warmth behind.
“We should eat before it gets cold,” I said, motioning to the food. “Because the ribs won’t survive without someone appreciating the sweat and tears that went into them.”
Voodoo patted me on the shoulder. “Suckup.”
“Hey,” I argued. “I’m pretty damn impressive.”
“Yes,” Gracie said with a soft laugh that stroked over my soul. “You are.”
“Great,” Bones said in the driest tone possible. “I see a contest for impressing her is now going to be the focus of the next few months.”
“Going to be? Alphabet said, raising his own beer mug. “It’s been on the agenda, Bones. You’re just starting in last position… apparently.”
That earned another round of laughter.
“I don’t know why I put up with you idiots,” Bones muttered, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth robbed the words of any bite.
“Because we’re lovable idiots,” Voodoo said cheerfully.
“Speak for yourself.” Alphabet took a sip of his beer. “I am a menace, not an idiot.”
Grace laughed again—softer this time, but no less bright. The sound loosened the last knots in my spine. She dipped her spoon into the soup, brows lifting in delight at the first taste, and I felt a surge of smug pride.
“This is amazing,” she murmured.
“Thank you,” I said. “I aim to please.”
We settled into the meal—easy, warm, the kind of comfortable where you could hear the snow falling outside if you listened closely. Grace relaxed visibly with every bite, every joke, every casual nudge or brush of fingers.
The conversation flowed, as it always did when the edges weren’t sharp anymore.
“So,” Grace said once she’d polished off her soup and the ribs had made their rounds. “Since this is apparently a night of honesty… can I ask something?”
“Always,” I answered.
She toyed with her wine glass for a second. “The renovations. The new room. The bed big enough to land a helicopter on. That was for… all of us, right?”
Bones answered before the rest of us could. “You think we built an aircraft-carrier-sized bed for fun?”
“Yes,” Voodoo said. “Absolutely for fun. Also because Bones kicks. Hard.”
“I do not—”
“He kicked me off the bed once,” Alphabet said mildly. “Just saying.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth, laughing.
Bones glared at all of us. “I don’t kick.”
“You do,” I said soothingly. “But it’s adorable.”
“It is not adorable—”
“I think you’re very adorable,” Grace insisted. “Don’t listen to them.”
His whole expression softened for her. Fuck, Alphabet was right, she really was the Bones whisperer.
“Anyway,” Alphabet continued, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “the room was built for the five of us, yeah. Forever-term, not temporary. We want you there. Because you belong there.”
Grace’s eyes shone again—this time without fear behind it.
“Good,” she said softly. “Because I was thinking… maybe once spring comes… we could add a deck?”
I blinked. “A deck?”
She nodded, setting her wine glass down. “Off the new suite. Maybe French doors? So we can walk right out to the view. A place to sit. Maybe some planters. A little garden.”
The entire table stilled.
Then Bones shook his head once, expression implacable. “No.”
“No?” Grace’s jaw dropped.
Voodoo chimed in immediately. “Hard no.”
“Security nightmare.” Alphabet raised a finger.
Grace looked from man to man, scandalized. “I didn’t say retractable glass floors or a giant slide! Just a deck!”
“It would be beautiful,” I said diplomatically. Then sighed. “But they’re not wrong. French doors are a vulnerability.”
“We can reinforce them,” she argued. “Didn’t you say the glass in all of the windows is bulletproof? Why not those?”
Voodoo leaned in as though letting her in on a secret. “Because bulletproof French doors cost as much as a kidney on the black market.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Voodoo said solemnly, holding her gaze. “Really.”
Wthout missing a beat, she took a sip of her wine then said, “Good thing none of you are using both.”
Alphabet choked on his beer. I burst out laughing. Bones dropped his head into his hand, shoulders shaking.
“Firecracker,” Voodoo said proudly, “that was beautiful.”
“I’m serious,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table. “A deck would be nice. And safe. If you make it safe.”
Bones exhaled through his nose like she’d just challenged him to a duel. “If we do this—and that’s a big if —then we design it. Not prebuilt. Not flimsy. Reinforced everything. The garden planters have to be placed so they don’t obstruct line of sight.”
“Whatever you say, Captain.” Grace smiled slowly.
He narrowed his eyes. “That tone is mocking me.”
“Mocking?” She widened her blue eyes innocently. “Never.”
Voodoo snickered. Alphabet shook his head.
I covered her hand again. “What he means is—we’ll build it. For you. With you. Just like the room.”
Grace’s smile softened. “I’d like that.”
After slamming back his beer, Bones sighed like he’d just aged ten years and resigned himself to fate. “Fine. We’ll build a damn deck.”
She lit up—actually glowed—with joy so bright it punched straight through my ribs.
Just like that, the teasing died into warmth again, the kind that was patient and slow and full of promise.
Future plans.
Shared space.
Shared life.
She wasn’t temporary. None of it was.