“He didn’t know,” I answer. “None of you did.”
“Yeah, but he’s Conrad.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “We’re gonna have to show him.”
“We?” I echo.
He grins, lazy and satisfied now, eyes soft. “I mean, I’m happy to volunteer as tribute for more hands-on demonstrations of you being very, very okay.”
I snort. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’m actually a Mensa level genius, thank you.” He kisses my nose, then my mouth, then my chin. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Outside the door, the house is quiet. Storm and Maverick murmur in the den, low and distant. Conrad keeps his watch. Zeus snores.
Inside the room, Atticus settles along my side, dragging the sheet up over both of us, tangling our legs. I tuck myself into the curve of him, my palm resting over his heart.
“Stay?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
He laughs softly, pressing his lips to my hair. “You’re joking, right? You’re gonna need a crowbar to get me out of this bed.”
For the first time in longer than I can count, the idea of closing my eyes with a man still in my bed doesn’t make my stomach clench.
It makes me feel…full.
Held.
Safe.
Conrad shifts in the chair, just a shadow beyond the door. Atticus’s heartbeat thumps steady under my hand.
I let myself drift, wrapped in the warm, ridiculous fact of both of them:
The man in my bed.
The man at my door.
And the quiet certainty that this time, when I sleep, I’ll be kept safe.
20
Maverick
I waketo the sound of a refrigerator settling and realize I’m already halfway to the kitchen. Bare feet on cool wood, the house a whisper around me, Tybee’s night air pushing through the vents with that soft, salty edge. I’m not even hungry; I’m restless. The kind of restless that remembers a metal box and decides to replace it with something warm.
A small pool of light spills across the island from the under-cabinet strip. It makes the marble glow. A bowl of peaches sits like it’s been waiting. I rinse one and slice it with a paring knife, lay the wedges on a plate, and pull out the honey. I line up a second plate because I’m not alone.
I hear her before I see her—barely. Phoenix moves like someone who learned the cost of being loud a long time ago. Her hoodie is zipped halfway, shorts loose on her legs, hair pulled up in a bun that fully intends to fall down again. She blinks at me like she knew I’d be here.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask.
“I slept. Then I woke up.” She stops beside the island and squints at the plate. “Peaches at two a.m. is a choice.”
“Peaches any time is a choice I stand by.” I nudge the plate toward her. “These are good. Juice without being rude about it.”
She huffs a laugh that’s half yawn. “That is exactly what I require from my fruit.”
I push a wedge to her fingers. She takes it and bites, and the quiet sound she makes might be the best thing I’ve heard in a week. I drizzle honey over another piece and hold it out. She leans in and catches my wrist in a light hold. She takes the fruit slower this time. Honey finds the corner of her mouth. I don’t make a show of it, but I reach and touch my thumb to that small shine and bring it to my lips.
“Too much?” I ask.
