Chapter 4 In Daylight #5
I stayed awake long after her breathing deepened, watching the dark lake through the balcony glass and feeling the weight of her trust settle over me. The sex had been filthy, hot, and everything her mouth had promised.
This was the part that made it matter.
The wrecked sheets. Her body curled into mine. The fact that she had asked if I would still claim her in daylight.
I would.
***
Morning made Vina look different.
Not less Vina. Never that. But the daylight stripped off the party armor and left something that hit me harder.
She stood by the suite mirror in a borrowed Brewster Bay shirt I had found in my overnight bag, the hem hanging loose over the shorts Luna had dropped outside the door before breakfast hours.
Her red hair was clean and damp from the shower, falling in softer waves around her face.
The makeup was gone except for a stubborn shadow at the corners of her eyes.
Freckles showed across her nose. Her lips were still swollen from my mouth.
She caught me staring through the mirror.
“What?”
“You look good.”
“I look like I got mauled and returned to customer service.”
“You look real.”
Her smile came slowly, smaller than usual. “Careful, Brew. Keep that up and I’ll start expecting compliments before coffee.”
“You can have both.”
We left Rosewater hand in hand.
The lobby had morning guests now, people in resort polos and sunglasses waiting on coffee, staff restocking brochures, a family with two kids arguing over sunscreen by the front doors.
Nobody said anything, but people looked.
They saw Vina in my shirt. Saw our fingers locked together.
Saw the way she leaned into me when the light got too bright.
I didn't let go.
We drove back to Brewster Bay with the windows cracked and the lake air moving through the truck. Vina kept one hand on my thigh, quiet for long stretches, then suddenly vicious about Rosewater's breakfast muffins, then quiet again. The closer we got to Brewster Bay, the more her jokes thinned.
By the time I parked near the lodge, the main kitchen windows were open and the smell of coffee, bacon, and pancakes came drifting out.
Vina looked toward the cabin path.
I saw the decision start in her body before she said anything. Shoulders turning. Weight shifting. Habit taking over. The old move: slip away, clean up, come back as the version nobody could question.
I caught her hand.
“Wrong way.”
She looked at me, too casual. “I was just going to change.”
“You can change later.”
“Nash.”
“You're coming to breakfast.”
“With your family?”
“With me.”
She stared at me for a beat. The instinct to argue passed over her face. So did the fear.
“I’m wearing your shirt.”
“I noticed.”
“I look like I spent the night with you.”
“You did.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “Subtle.”
“I’m done being subtle with you.”
That did it.
She nodded, once, and let me lead her toward the lodge.
The kitchen was packed.
Frank sat at the head of the long table with coffee and a plate already half full.
Bella moved between stove and counter with a dish towel over one shoulder, running breakfast like it was a beloved emergency.
Jeremy leaned against the counter beside Grace, both of them nursing coffee and talking quietly until we came in.
Sally was setting out plates. Sam was pouring orange juice and losing an argument with Sally about whether pulp counted as a personality flaw.
At the far end of the table, Kit, Poppy, and Luna looked like the world's least guilty sleepover crime scene.
Kit wore one of my old shirts and had her blonde hair piled high, her face sleep-soft and bright when she saw us.
Poppy had another of my shirts tucked crookedly into shorts, dark curls loose and wild.
Luna sat between them in a Brewster Bay sweatshirt, pillow marks still faint on one cheek, looking completely at ease.
My bed, while I had been at Rosewater with Vina.
Warmth, not scandal. Inclusion, not scorekeeping.
Kit stood first.
“There they are.”
Vina's hand tightened in mine.
Kit crossed the kitchen and hugged her. No hesitation. No performance. Just arms around Vina, cheek against her hair, the kind of hug that said breakfast had been waiting for her, not judging her.
“Morning, Lips,” Kit said. “You look like Rosewater survived you.”
“Barely,” Vina said, voice rough.
Poppy appeared next, wrapping Vina from the side with a delighted squeeze. “You look gorgeous. Also destroyed. I’m very proud of everyone involved.”
“Poppy,” I said.
“What? I’m being supportive.”
Luna came last, softer and quieter, handing Vina a mug of coffee before hugging her. “Emergency suite still standing?”
“For now,” Vina said.
“Good. I hate paperwork.”
Vina laughed, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
Bella turned from the stove. Her gaze took in the shirt, the handholding, Vina's clean face, all of it. Then she picked up a mug, filled it with coffee, added cream without asking, and set it in front of an empty chair.
“Sit, honey,” Bella said. “Pancakes are hot. Nash, get the orange juice. Frank, stop stealing bacon before I put it on the table.”
Frank froze with bacon halfway to his mouth. “This is quality control.”
“It is theft,” Grace said, smiling into her coffee.
Jeremy nodded solemnly. “Family tradition.”
Vina stood very still.
Bella looked back at her, all ordinary warmth. “You take sugar?”
“Two,” Vina said, like the answer had to fight its way out.
Bella dropped two cubes into the mug and nudged it closer. “There you go.”
Bella didn’t make a speech or unroll a welcome banner. She just fixed the coffee exactly how Vina took it.
Vina sat.
Sam set a glass of orange juice near her plate. His face was open and easy, no jealousy, no wounded claim, no awkward ownership of a crush that had never made Vina his.
“Morning, Ashby,” he said. “You look like you survived the rich side of the lake.”
Vina studied him for half a second, then smiled. “Barely. Their pillows are smug.”
“Sounds on brand.”
Sally slid a plate in front of Vina. “Eat before Poppy steals all the bacon. She thinks being tiny is a legal defense.”
“I am adorable and therefore immune,” Poppy said.
“You are a menace,” Sally said.
Kit leaned toward Vina from across the table. “She's both.”