Around us, a barista calls out names over the hiss of the espresso machine. A woman laughs too loudly at the table behind Cruz; her bracelets clinking against the tabletop. Someone's phone chimes with a text. My cup sweats against my palm, and neither Gage nor Cruz stops looking at me. Gage's knee presses firmer against mine under the table. Cruz's finger stops tapping, suspended mid-air, his lips parted slightly as if caught between words.
It’s the kind of pause that exists when no one actually wants to be the first person to leave.
Finally, Cruz glances at his watch, the movement almost reluctant. “So,” he says, voice deliberately casual as his eyes flick from me to Gage and back again, “that's the business part handled. Anything else on your schedule today, Bells?”
My shoulders relax, tension I hadn't noticed draining away. I shrug. “I was going to the bookstore a couple of blocks over. Lola had a preorder come in, and she's out of town for a few days.”
Cruz's eyebrows lift, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Bookstore?”
Gage straightens in his chair, nodding with exaggerated seriousness, though his eyes betray him with a gleam. “Love books.”
I snort. “You absolutely do not.”
He presses a hand to his chest, fingers splayed dramatically over his heart. “That's slander.”
Cruz pushes his chair back, the wooden legs scraping against the floor as he stands, stretching to his full height. “Well, I, for one, am deeply invested in this errand now.”
I arch a brow as I push my chair in. “Oh, you’re coming with now?”
“Obviously.” Cruz tosses an arm over my shoulders, tugging me to his side as we head out together.
The three of us falling into an easy formation that feels older than it should—me in the middle, Gage and Cruz on either side of me.
Outside the bookstore, Gage and Cruz both stop abruptly. Cruz's hand shoots out, catching Gage's forearm. His chin tilts toward a man leaning against a parked Audi across the street—expensive watch glinting in the sun, phone pressed to his ear, laughing too loudly.
Gage's shoulders square instantly. The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice. “Is that?—”
“Trevor Adams,” Cruz confirms, voice equally low. “Looks just fine to me.”
“He does, doesn’t he? Doesn’t look like he’s hurting at all.” Gage’s voice drops to something dangerous.
I glance between them, their sudden stillness making my skin prickle. They've positioned themselves like bookends on either side of me, both staring ahead with identical expressions of cold calculation. When I try to catch their gazes, my neck protests.
“Why would he be hurting?”
Gage points to the guy. “That motherfucker scammed eight little old ladies outta their money. Half of ‘em were in one assisted living unit.”
“And by the time they figured it out, he had magically disappeared. That was six months ago,” Cruz finishes.
“What do you think, brother? Should we give him a properwelcome home?” Gage muses, rolling his shoulders back.
“I think we’d be remiss not to, brother.” Cruz jerks his chin up.
I'm still watching Trevor when warm lips brush the corner of my mouth. I startle, my shoulder bumping against Gage's chest as his cologne—that expensive hint of sandalwood and ocean air—floods my senses.
His breath tickles my ear, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “We'll meet you in the bookstore, Bell.”
The cold air inside the bookstore is a shock after the heat of the sidewalk. The place still smells of dust and vanilla, but something sharper lingers—maybe the faint chemical tang of floor cleaner, or maybe just the metallic edge of anticipation that followed me from the street.
I head straight for the front register, where preorders are shelved, and give Lola’s name. My brain is still half outside, listening for the thud of footsteps.
Once I have her book tucked under my arm, I mill around the store, browsing for anything I think she might like.
I’m flipping through a werewolf romance when they come back. Gage stops short when he sees me. His knuckles are bleeding and there’s smeared blood on his wrists.
My gaze lifts to his face. “You good? Where’s Cruz?”
Cruz appears from behind him like I summoned him by saying his name. “Worried about me, Bells?”
