"That goes for both of you." Connor points between us, cup in hand. "You're our brothers. We protect each other."
Zach tenses and his eyes narrow. "Are you planning on sharing what's been eating at you lately?"
Connor waves him off. "It's nothing important."
"Hate to break it to all of you," Viktor pipes up, a mischievous glint in his eye, "But Alexei already knows about Zach's condition. Why do you think he started eating his food when I had the flu freshman year?"
Jackson throws his hands up. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Why doesn't anyone tell me shit first?"
"Because you're a dramatic bitch," Zach deadpans.
Everyone freezes, staring at him like he just grew a second head.
"Did you just try to be funny?" Connor asks, one blond brow arched. "Careful, Knight. People might start thinking you have actual feelings."
"Fuck you all." Zach's lips twitch, almost like he's fighting a smile.
Viktor turns to me, that signature insufferable smirk plastered on his face. "So . . . friends?"
I roll my eyes and huff. "Don't push it, Fungus.”
"Oh, my god." Eli's eyes dart between me and Viktor as he giggles. "They’re exactly alike. No wonder they argue so much."
Connor snorts into his coffee. "It’s like watching feral cats fight."
"And the bitchy comebacks." Jackson shakes his head. “Think I’d duct tape Kill’s mouth if he ran it as much as you two run yours.”
I narrow my eyes at Zach when he chuckles. But pain shoots through my ribs when I shift to curl into him. “Ouch.”
Zach’s lips press into a thin line as he looks me over, then turns to his friends. “Everyone out. Merci needs rest. And you're all giving me a headache."
"Look at those mama bear vibes. Our boy's finally growing a heart." Jackson ducks as the last piece of Zach’s bagel flies past his head.
"Out."
They continue to laugh as they shuffle toward the door, coffee in hand. Except for Viktor. He stretches languorously, like a cat who knows it's being annoying. "You know, if you need anything. . . "
"Get. Out."
"Fine. But seriously, Merci. . . " For once his smirk softens into something almost genuine. "Welcome to the family"
He picks up the bagel piece on the floor then leaves, though not far. Everyone’s in the common area. Jackson's cackling about something while someone—probably Connor—tells him to shut the fuck up. The noise should be annoying, but it’s actually comforting knowing they're still here.
"How bad are the ribs?" His fingers brush my side, barely touching.
"Like I got into a fight with a fucking Zamboni and lost." I try to get more comfortable, but my body screams in protest. "Jesus fuck."
"At least nothing's broken."
"Small fucking mercies." I trace my fingers over his skin, watching his muscles twitch under my touch. "Thanks. For yesterday. For not letting me completely lose my shit."
"I take care of what's mine."
I let out a deep breath as I try to memorize how this feels. In a few months he'll be graduating, then heading off to Ottawa for training camp. "Speaking of taking care of things . . . you'll be in Canada soon while I'm just . . . here. Existing. Like some kind of really hot decoration."
"You're more than a decoration." He leans in and kisses my forehead. "Plus, you just started Crestwood. Give yourself time to figure things out."
“Yeah, but that’s just it. I’ve never had the chance to want anything before that didn’t have to do with surviving. Now I can actually see a future, and it’s fucking terrifying because I have no clue what to do with it."
