Jace laughs, coming over to clap me on the shoulder. There’s no jealousy in him or Kieran, and that settles something in me, relieves a weight on my shoulders. They didn’t have a problem sharing before, but I wasn’t a part of that relationship. Still, this feels familiar, like it was always a possibility, and now we’re just ticking it off the list. Marking it as the best choice.
The conversation drifts, unforced subject changes ranging from the alarm at the office to the secretary they don’t really like. Kieran pours more coffee and leaves the cabinets open. Jace gets up to shut them.
No one asks what last night means or where this goes. We’re not really like that… trying to assign labels where they aren’t required. We don’t need to explain to each other that these are three separate relationships that will move in parallel.
But we should maybe talk to Eris about that…
Soft footsteps seem to echo behind me, and we all turn as if compelled.
Eris appears as suddenly as the sound she makes, silent until she wants to gain attention. She’s wearing my shirt like she’s been doing it for years, messy raven hair framing her face in a rare instance of not being tied up. Molten silver eyes track our movements, each breath we take. I’ve never seen her look this predatory before, not openly anyway.
“Morning,” she says, entirely unbothered by the fact that three men just went quiet at once.
Kieran recovers first. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
Jace blinks. Actually, just blinks like he’s lagging… And I kick him in the shin under the table to jumpstart his brain. He glares at me, then quickly adjusts his expression as he turns back to our resident goddess.
“So…” Eris leans against the counter, glancing between us in amusement. “Am I still a guest with breakfast privileges, or should I cook for myself?”
Jace grins. “We don’t usually let guests near the stove.”
“Good,” she says, accepting the mug Kieran hands her. “But I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon, so I’m not sure how long I can keep thatguesttitle.”
Something audibly clicks inside my mind. Not a lock, but the sound two metal pieces make when they slot into place perfectly.
Anytime soon?
She’s not leaving at all. We’ve already decided that.
We know this isn’t a competition or a conquest…
It’s a shift onto a steady foundation.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I need to plan for an impending fallout.
Honestly, I think we’re already standing in it.
Breakfast turns out to be absurdly domestic, considering one of these men bloodied his knuckles for me less than forty-eight hours ago and another fucked me into forgetting my name last night.
Yet… here we are.
Scrambled eggs. Thick toast. A skillet of potatoes. And three men moving through the kitchen like I’m their center of gravity.
I sit at the counter with one leg tucked under me, a perfect coffee in my hand, watching them like I’m studying a system that shouldn’t work and somehow does.
It’s not me who makes them work, though. This rhythm belongs to them.
I’m the variable they haven’t optimized for… yet.
But they’re trying to push the update through.
Kieran slides hot sauce toward me without asking. Jace butters my toast with the type of precise control that says this isn’t about being helpful; it’s about doing it right. Silas grabs a bottle of water, cracking the lid open before setting it in front of me. Then he retreats, leaning against the fridge, eyes tracking me like I might evaporate if he looks away too long.
Now, it settles in my bones… the evidence of how closely they’ve been watching me. I’ve never had anyone anticipate my needs the way they do.
Other than Roo. And maybe Hardy. But we’ve been friends since we were children.
