“Well, it’s just me here,” I lie, too quickly.The house holds its breath.Somewhere down the hall, a floorboard doesn’t dare creak.
Caleb grins at me like I’m a puzzle he’s already halfway solved.Golden-boy charm, with a mouth that was probably born smirking.And Atlas… God help me.He’s holding a coffee in one hand and a box of donuts in the other.
“We brought bribes.”
I deflect.“Cassius isn’t back yet.”
“We know,” Caleb says, plopping onto the couch like he lives here.“We came for you.”
“Me?”
“You’re Cassius’s,” Atlas says with a wink.“And he’s like talking to a wet blanket so maybe we’ll get more fun out of you.”
“She’d know better than to tell us anything Cassius hasn’t,” Adrian adds, his voice lower now.“Wouldn’t you, Melinda?”
I don’t know what to say to that.The reverence in Adrian’s voice steals the breath from my throat.
“Ignore him,” Caleb says, biting into a powdered donut.“We just want to get to know you better.”
I laugh, nervous.“I'm not sure what you expected.”
“We never expected you,” Caleb answers, easy smile not quite hiding the worry.
Adrian’s thumb taps his cane.“He’s always been a lone wolf.”
“He keeps us safe, keeps our hands clean,” Atlas adds, stealing my remote and setting the volume to barely audible.
I wrap my fingers around my mug.“And that’s bad?”
“He looks at you like you’re responsible for his every breath,” Caleb says.“Without you, there’s no oxygen.We’re adjusting.”
Adrian’s face doesn’t move, but his voice softens a fraction.“We’re protective of him, Melinda.If you break his heart, he won’t sulk.He’ll eviscerate.”
“Or worse,” Caleb mutters.
My stomach tightens.I’m suddenly aware of every word, every breath.“I didn’t ask for this,” I say, steady as I can.“If it were up to me, we might’ve met slower and without all the blood.But I’m not sorry it happened.And I don’t have plans to walk away.”
Caleb studies me, nods like he’s filing that somewhere important.“Good.”
Adrian inclines his head.“Then we’ll do everything we can on our end to keep you safe.”
Atlas flicks a glance at the hallway.“And keep him from slicing anyone who looks at you into tiny bits.”
Despite myself, I laugh.The room loosens by degrees.The donut box migrates toward me.Somewhere between Caleb showing me photos of his newest furniture creations and my third donut hole, my shoulders unknot.
Monday morning, when I come downstairs, they’re still here.Adrian at the stove like a statue that learned to scramble eggs, Caleb buttering toast and stealing bites, and Atlas flipping through channels with the sound off.It’s strange, walking out of a bedroom that’s mine, sort of mine, and finding these men using a kitchen that’s also supposed to be mine.
The dead keep to the doorway.Bolo-Hat tips his brim and studies their profiles with a look I read as pride.The others hover behind him, unsure whether to fear heaven or hell, because the jury is still out on what kind of angels the Ashenhearts are.
“Good morning,” I say, pouring coffee.
“Good morning, Melinda,” they answer, almost in unison.
“Does Logan have the day off?”
“No.He’ll be here to drive you to work,” Adrian answers.“We thought we’d keep you company until then.”
I dare to hope.“Will Cassius actually be home today?”
