I put the toast down on a small plate and faced him. “So you want me to leave, then?”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered over him. “I didn’t say that.”
“Dude.” Levi was shaking his head.
Marshall shot him another dark look.
“I told you everything last night. If you’re not okay with Creighton being here, then that means you’re not okay with me being here.”
“I—” Marshall scraped a hand over his jaw. Torn now. “I mean, why can’t he just not come around?”
Levi began chuckling again.
“Dude, I am warning you.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Palma ignored the slight exchange between Levi and Marshall.
“What doesn’t?” Marshall shrugged again, exaggerating the motion. He widened his eyes and spread his legs out farther.
He was settling in for a fight.
“They have a complicated and long history,” Palma started, trying to be patient.
Marshall grunted, shaking his head. “This is our house. We should be able to say who can come and who can’t—”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Creighton.
Eight: Do you need me to come back?
Me: Why would you ask that?
Eight: Levi said your roommate has an issue with me. He’s your housemate. You decide. Do you want me to handle him?
Me: Of course not.
Eight: So you’ll handle him? If he’s making you feel bad, it’s a problem. No one hurts you, Blake. In any way.
I scowled at Levi, who’d been watching me on the phone. He flinched. “Sorry.”
The conversation that had continued now quieted in the kitchen. Attention went from Levi to me.
“What?” Marshall bit out.
I held back a sigh.
Me: He doesn’t understand, but don’t harm him in any way. I mean it.
Eight: Then he needs to shut up.
Me: Eight.
Eight: Quokka.
I couldn’t suppress a growl.
Me: I’ll handle him, but promise me you won’t harm Marshall.
His response didn’t come right away.
