Ash is here.
He's stretched out on the floor in front of the couch, long legs crossed at the ankles, looking completely at ease in a space he's been to exactly twice. He's wearing jeans and a dark henley that makes his arms look incredible—the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms on display. His hair is slightly damp like he showered recently. He looks comfortable, relaxed, like he belongs here.
Like he didn't send me away hurting less than twenty-four hours ago.
Robin's sprawled on the couch behind him, feet dangling near Ash's shoulder, complaining about something work-related.
"—and then this guy at the catering company had the audacity to say my macarons were 'too perfect,' like that's a criticism. Too perfect! What does that even mean? Is there such a thing as too perfect? Isn't perfection the goal?"
"He's an idiot," Ash says quietly. Then, without looking at me, without turning his head even slightly: "There's masala popcorn if you want some. Made it the way you like."
I stare at the bowl on the coffee table.
It's my popcorn. My specific blend—garam masala, turmeric, a little cayenne for heat, finished with ghee and lime zest. The recipe I have pinned to the corkboard by the fridge.
He found my recipe. He made my popcorn.
"Thanks," I manage, voice cracking embarrassingly. "I need to—shower. Grease."
I flee upstairs before anyone can respond.
In the shower, I stand under water that's too hot and try to calm down. My heart is pounding against my ribs like it's trying to escape. He's here. In our space. Making my popcorn from the recipe I have pinned up in the kitchen. Being casual and comfortable like he didn't have me pressed against a workbench yesterday, like I wasn't begging for more than he could give.
What is he doing here? What does he want?
Robin must have invited him. Robin, who warned me to stay away, who called Ash a hurricane, who said I'd get destroyed. Why would he invite Ash to movie night the day after everything fell apart?
Unless this is some kind of intervention. Some attempt to force us to deal with whatever this is.
I take my time getting dressed. Plain t-shirt, comfortable jeans. Nothing special. I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm definitely not thinking about whether Ash will like the way I look.
When I come back down, the whole pride is assembled. Knox has Toby in his lap in the big armchair, Toby's head tucked under his chin, both of them looking soft and content in a way that makes my chest ache. Ezra and Silas are sharing the loveseat, Silas already looking anxious about whatever horrormovie we're watching—he hates scary stuff but refuses to miss pack events. Vaughn's setting up the TV, scrolling through streaming options with the remote.
And there's one spot left on the couch.
Right next to Robin.
Which puts me directly beside where Ash is sitting on the floor.
I catch Ezra very deliberately not looking at me. Vaughn's mouth twitches.
"Jason! Finally!" Robin pats the cushion next to him with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I was about to start without you."
I grab sodas from the fridge and distribute them, trying not to let my hands shake. Pass out napkins. Make sure everyone has what they need. Normal caretaker behavior. Definitely not stalling because Ash is right there and I don't know what to do with that.
"Sit down," Vaughn says from across the room. "You're making me nervous with all the hovering."
Finally, I can't delay anymore. I sink onto the couch next to Robin, hyper-aware that my thigh is inches from Ash's shoulder. He doesn't look at me, doesn't turn around, but I see the slight tension in his back. The way his breathing changes.
He knows exactly where I am.
"What are we watching?" I ask, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile.
"The Conjuring," Vaughn says. "The original."
"Good choice."
The lights go off. The movie starts. Robin immediately shifts, flipping onto his stomach with his feet hooked over my lap and his head dropping onto Ash's shoulder. It's so casual, so easy—the kind of physical affection that comes from a lifetime of being brothers. No awkwardness, no hesitation, just comfortable closeness.
