8. Alden
Alden
T he house was quieter than it should’ve been.
Rhett dropped onto the couch like his bones hurt, Kane handed him another beer, and Trace… Trace stood in the corner like a ghost who hadn’t decided if he was staying or leaving.
“She okay?” Rhett asked, nodding toward the stairs.
“Passed out,” I said. “Sloane’s staying in the room with her, just in case.”
Pressure buzzed beneath my skin. Not pain. Not heat. Just—something old pressing up through the floorboards, humming in the ink on my arm.
Trace rubbed his wrist, his jaw clenched. I didn’t ask. He wouldn’t answer anyway. Just crossed his arms, like if he left them loose, he might reach for something he couldn’t have.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
He looked at me, glaring. “You think I don’t know that?”
Kane cracked open a beer. “Alright, let’s not start swinging our dicks. She’s not even awake to roll her eyes at us.”
Rhett snorted. “Seriously. This is the most awkward male-bonding sleepover I’ve ever been part of.”
Trace sat down, arms resting on his knees. “I just wanted to see her.”
“You already did that,” I said. “Now what?”
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling hoping it had answers. “You left her once. You gonna do it again?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Good.” I looked back to him. “Then help it.”
Silence stretched between us.
Rhett finally muttered, “We’re all in deep, aren’t we?”
Kane shrugged. “She’s Scarlett. We were all screwed the second she showed up.”
Rhett glanced away. Kane didn’t say anything, but I knew they felt it too. Not the same way Trace and I did—not the love that kept you up at night. But something just as dangerous. The kind that says: I’d die for her.
Trace looked up, eyes haunted. “I didn’t expect her to still feel like home.”
That shut us up for a minute.
I didn’t hate him. That was the worst part. I wanted to. Wanted to throw him through a fucking wall for the look in Scarlett’s eyes when he left. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because part of me still remembered the way she looked at him back then—like maybe he was the only thing that made sense.
Still was.
Maybe he was…
But that didn’t mean I was stepping aside.
The dim living room thickened with tension and something like grief.
“She’ll be pissed in the morning,” Rhett said.
“She’ll pretend she’s fine,” I added.
Trace didn’t say anything.
But he didn’t leave, either.