Bri’s mouth tilts into a faint smile. “Blade tells me what I need to know. Not the ugly parts. Just the parts that help me feel steady.”
Bella snorts. “Switch once tried to explain something technical to me and I made him stop halfway through because my eyes were glazing over.”
I laugh softly. “Fair.”
Bri glances at me. “What about you? Does it bother you?”
I think about Rev’s quiet steadiness. The way he never lies, never overpromises, never pretends his world is clean, but also never drags me into the parts that would sit heavy in my chest.
“Sometimes I’m curious,” I admit. “But I don’t need the details to trust him. I just need to know he’s coming home.”
Bella smiles at that. “That’s the real part.”
The room settles into a comfortable pause, the show still murmuring in the background, the quiet punctuated by the rustle of snack bags and the occasional clink of ice in a glass. The question lingers in the air without feeling unresolved, like something understood instead of answered.
Bella tips her head, studying me. “What about the illegal parts?”
The word hangs there heavier than the rest of it has.
I don’t rush to answer. I pick at the edge of a napkin instead, feeling the texture between my fingers. “Yeah,” I say finally.“That part. Does that ever mess with you? Knowing what they’re actually involved in?”
Bella exhales slowly and shifts against her pillows. “I won’t pretend it doesn’t cross my mind,” she says. “Especially when Switch comes home wired tight or quiet in that way that means something big went down.”
Bri nods. “Same. Sometimes I catch myself wondering where the line is. What I want to know versus what I probably don’t.” Her hand drifts absently to her stomach, protective without her even thinking about it. “It hits differently when you’re about to have a kid. You start thinking about risk in a whole new way.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
Bri glances at me. “But here’s the thing. I’m not with Blade because I think his world is clean. I’m with him because I know his code. I know who he protects. I know where he draws the line.”
Bella adds quietly, “They don’t hurt innocent people. They don’t bring that mess to our doors. They don’t lie to us about who they really are. Switch straight up told me on our second date that his hands weren’t clean,” Bella says. “Not proud. Just honest. I respected that more than someone pretending they’re perfect.”
I lean back into the couch, letting that settle. “Rev’s the same way,” I admit. “He never sugarcoats who he is, just makes it clear where I fit in his priorities.”
Bella smiles softly. “And that’s the part that matters.”
Bri tilts her head. “Does it scare you sometimes?”
I think about locked doors. Security cameras. The way Rev checks windows without realizing he’s doing it. The way heholds me like something that could be taken if he lets go. “Sometimes,” I say honestly. “But not enough to make me want to walk away.”
Bella’s mouth curves into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. Same.”
The TV keeps playing in the background, someone on screen yelling dramatically about something that suddenly feels very small compared to the quiet weight of what we’re really talking about.
Bri breaks the tension first. “Okay, but if any of them ever start acting shady in a way that crosses our line, we’re forming a secret sister council.”
Bella perks up. “Do we get robes?”
I laugh. “Obviously.”
“Okay good,” Bri says. “Then I’m in.”
We finally call it a night a couple of hours later.
Bella heads down the hall toward one of the guest rooms with a pillow tucked under her arm, already half-asleep. Bri takes the other, stopping long enough to remind me to text if I need anything, like I’m going somewhere instead of ten feet away. We trade quiet goodnights and click off the lights one by one.
I love having them here. I really do. The house feels warmer when it’s full of people. But the second I step into my bedroom and shut the door, the quiet hits different. The bed feels too empty on one side.
I change into one of Javier’s old t-shirts and crawl under the covers, reaching out without thinking before I catch myself. I haven’t slept a night without him in a long time. Not really. Evenwhen one of us comes home late, there’s always the expectation that he’ll be there eventually. His weight settling beside me. The familiar warmth. The way his arm finds my waist in his sleep like it’s on autopilot. I didn’t realize how used to that I’d gotten until tonight.
