“Yes,” Gracie said with a soft laugh that stroked over my soul. “You are.”
“Great,” Bones said in the driest tone possible. “I see a contest for impressing her is now going to be the focus of the next few months.”
“Going to be? Alphabet said, raising his own beer mug. “It’s been on the agenda, Bones. You’re just starting in last position… apparently.”
That earned another round of laughter.
“I don’t know why I put up with you idiots,” Bones muttered, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth robbed the words of any bite.
“Because we’re lovable idiots,” Voodoo said cheerfully.
“Speak for yourself.” Alphabet took a sip of his beer. “I am a menace, not an idiot.”
Grace laughed again—softer this time, but no less bright. The sound loosened the last knots in my spine. She dipped her spoon into the soup, brows lifting in delight at the first taste, and I felt a surge of smug pride.
“This is amazing,” she murmured.
“Thank you,” I said. “I aim to please.”
We settled into the meal—easy, warm, the kind of comfortable where you could hear the snow falling outside if youlistened closely. Grace relaxed visibly with every bite, every joke, every casual nudge or brush of fingers.
The conversation flowed, as it always did when the edges weren’t sharp anymore.
“So,” Grace said once she’d polished off her soup and the ribs had made their rounds. “Since this is apparently a night of honesty… can I ask something?”
“Always,” I answered.
She toyed with her wine glass for a second. “The renovations. The new room. The bed big enough to land a helicopter on. That was for… all of us, right?”
Bones answered before the rest of us could. “You think we built an aircraft-carrier-sized bed for fun?”
“Yes,” Voodoo said. “Absolutely for fun. Also because Bones kicks. Hard.”
“I do not?—”
“He kicked me off the bed once,” Alphabet said mildly. “Just saying.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth, laughing.
Bones glared at all of us. “I don’t kick.”
“You do,” I said soothingly. “But it’s adorable.”
“It is not adorable?—”
“I think you’re very adorable,” Grace insisted. “Don’t listen to them.”
His whole expression softened for her. Fuck, Alphabet was right, she really was the Bones whisperer.
“Anyway,” Alphabet continued, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “the room was built for the five of us, yeah. Forever-term, not temporary. We want you there. Because you belong there.”
Grace’s eyes shone again—this time without fear behind it.
“Good,” she said softly. “Because I was thinking… maybe once spring comes… we could add a deck?”
I blinked. “A deck?”
She nodded, setting her wine glass down. “Off the new suite. Maybe French doors? So we can walk right out to the view. A place to sit. Maybe some planters. A little garden.”
