11 Asher #3
“What are you doing here anyway?” Roman asks as he goes back to stirring the sauce. “Aren’t you supposed to still be in school?” Harper groans dramatically, dropping the shopping bags onto the counter.
“Oh my God, I cannot take that place anymore. Celeste is an absolute nightmare.” She throws her hands up. “Ever since Scarlett left, she’s been walking around acting like some psychotic Scream Queen. Apparently tormenting people is now her favorite extracurricular activity.”
Scarlett goes still in the dining room. I glance over and immediately catch the guilt flashing across her face. Harper notices too.
“She’s targeting anyone she thinks is weaker than her,” Harper continues, her tone softening slightly. “It’s honestly getting worse.” Scarlett looks down at the table, shoulders tightening.
Without thinking, I walk over to her. Hannah quietly excuses herself to gather some papers, giving us space. I gently turn Scarlett’s chair so she’s facing me fully.
“You cannot blame yourself for her actions,” I tell her firmly.
Her eyes lift to mine, worry written all over her face.
“She’s hurting people because of me.”
“No,” I correct immediately. “She’s hurting people because she’s cruel. That has nothing to do with you.” Her expression softens slightly, but I can still see the guilt sitting there.
“We’re close to figuring things out,” I continue more quietly. “And when we do, we’ll stop her. Your father too.” Something flickers across her face at the mention of him.
Fear.
Anger.
Maybe both.
Before she can say anything, Harper dramatically clears her throat from the kitchen.
“Well,” she says, hopping onto one of the stools, “I’ve officially decided I’m not going back there until Celeste and her little flying monkeys are gone.” Roman snorts.
Harper points toward Scarlett. “So, I’m joining the homeschool survival squad.”
Hannah nearly chokes trying not to laugh.
“I’m serious,” Harper continues. “Training. Tutoring. Secret bunker life. I’m in.”
“You sure your parents are gonna love that idea?” I ask.
She waves me off dismissively. “As long as I graduate, they genuinely do not care what I’m doing.”
Roman leans against the counter with a smirk. “So, what, you’re just moving in with us now, Tempesta?”
Harper narrows her eyes at him instantly.
“You sure this is about Celeste,” Roman continues lazily, “or do you just miss me while you’re gone all day?”
“In your dreams,” she shoots back before grabbing a handful of bread pieces from the counter and throwing them directly at him. Roman catches one midair and points at her dramatically.
“Always, Tempesta. Always.” His grin turns dangerous. “Don’t make me remind you what happens when you throw food at me.”
Harper immediately slides off the stool. “Don’t you dare.” Roman moves anyway.
She squeals and darts around the kitchen island while he follows after her with a laugh I haven’t heard from him in a long time.
Harper barely makes it around the corner before Roman catches her around the waist from behind.
She bursts into another laugh while trying to pry his arms off her.
Roman leans down and whispers something in her ear that instantly turns her entire face bright red.
Harper shoves at his chest hard enough to make him stumble back a step.
“You’re insufferable,” she mutters, avoiding eye contact completely.
Roman’s smirk only widens. Oh yeah. I’d bet my life those two either already fucking—Or they’re about five seconds away from it.
For the first time all day, the tension in the house eases.
Harper keeps swatting at Roman every time he walks too close while Scarlett quietly laughs from the dining room table, and for a few minutes it almost feels normal.
Roman goes back to cooking while Hannah gathers Scarlett’s books and notes together for the night, giving her and I guess now Harper assignments for tomorrow.
“You did really well today,” Hannah tells her warmly.
Scarlett gives her a small smile. “Thanks for not treating me like I’m broken.”
Something about that sentence lands heavier than it should, because everyone else in her life probably has. Hannah’s expression softens. “You’re not broken, Scarlett. You’re surviving.” The room goes quiet for a second after that. Then Harper immediately ruins the emotional moment.
“Okay but if I’m joining this little homeschool cult,” she says, stealing a strawberry from the fruit bowl, “I demand matching sweatshirts.”
Roman points a wooden spoon at her. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m thinking black hoodies,” Harper continues thoughtfully. “Maybe little knives embroidered on the sleeves.”
Declan finally walks into the kitchen mid-conversation and pauses.
“I leave for twenty minutes and suddenly we’re starting a cult?”
“See?” Harper says proudly. “He gets it.”
Declan already looks exhausted. I lean back against the counter, watching Scarlett laugh again as Harper starts arguing with Roman over hoodie colors.
The sound catches me off guard. Not because it’s rare, because it’s real.
Just Scarlett being eighteen for a few seconds instead of carrying the weight of everything hunting her.
And standing there watching her smile while chaos unfolds around her.