I shouldn’t be shocked. I’m not even offended. But the fact that Bishop Calloway is standing in a model home accusing me of being a distraction—something viciously amused curls low in my stomach.
Before I can respond, Cruz straightens, tipping his chin my way.
“I’ll go.”
My head snaps toward him.
Cruz is…Cruz. Ridiculous smile and infectiously charming. That backwards hat, dark blond hair curling underneath it.Sweatshirt sleeves shoved to his elbows, veins visible along his forearms.
Cruz is objectively good-looking in that easy, California way. The kind that belongs on surf shop posters and beer commercials.
There was a time when his smile would have set my teenage heart racing, but those days are buried beneath years of survival.
Cruz is fine. Preferable to Bishop, even. But eight hours in a car with that grin and all that casual confidence? That's a different calculation entirely.
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Cruz shrugs, casual to the point of arrogant. “Gage said you run tight jobs. I want to see how tight.“ His grin widens. “Besides, I’m a great road-trip hang.”
Lola snorts. “You’re insufferable.”
“Accurate,” Cruz agrees easily. “But useful.”
My gaze flicks to Gage to measure his reaction. Any emotion is masked by an infuriatingly calm expression.
Rafe's face remains impassive, his features set in that permanent stone-carved expression I'm beginning to realize is just his default.
“Fine,” I say finally, turning back to Cruz. “We’ll try it. One recon run. If it doesn’t work, I swap partners.”
Cruz gives a two-finger salute. “Deal.”
Bishop mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like, “You’re gonna regret it,” but he doesn’t argue further.
Gage blows out a slow breath. “Perfect. So we’re doing this. Together.”
Beckett crosses his arms, and Lola mirrors him. And even though neither of them says a word, I feel their words against my skin anyway.
Their trust in me settles around my shoulders like a thirty-pound blanket, and it takes effort to stay standing upright. My stomach twists, nerves sparking like live wires under my skin.
Fuck, if we pull this off, it’ll set us up for months. Give us a real shot at planting roots here.
This partnership could ruin us, bind us to the Calloways in ways we can’t undo.
Or make us powerful enough that nothing can touch us.
And once I say yes, there’s no backing out.
I inhale once, the air catching like sandpaper in my throat. My fingers curl against my palm, nails digging half-moons into skin as the weight of our futures balances on the knife-edge of my next words. “Alright, we’re in.”
Gage's teeth flash white, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his whole face lights up. Cruz's palm connects with Rafe's shoulder in a loud smack that echoes through the room. The right corner of Rafe's mouth twitches upward—just a millimeter, just for a second—but I catch it. Bishop's jaw tightens, the muscle there jumping once beneath tanned skin. His fingers drum once against his thigh, but his boots remain planted on the tile. And somehow, that feels like its own kind of victory.
The corner of my mouth twitches upward before I can stop it.
Gage rubs his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. It’s the same expression he used to have before he did something wild, like jump off their roof into the pool on a whim. God, I hope this doesn’t end in the ER with a broken bone.
“What’s our timeline, Bell?” Gage asks.
“Reverie’s a two-day music festival that takes place three hours away from us, but only about thirty minutes from Bayview. From our connection, we know that we need to hit Highlight Entertainment within a certain window. I’m notwilling to give you that information yet. Let’s say we have three weeks.”
