Damian barely suppresses a grin. “You sure, boss?”
Ryder glares at him and drops into the recliner, the leather groaning. I get the point he’s making—that he won’t admit to anything, but he’s not about to let it happen twice. Still, part of me aches at the distance. I’ll miss his smell. The heat of him.
Damian shrugs and holds up a corner of the sheet, gesturing for me to take the middle. I crawl in and then he follows after, the metal frame creaking beneath his weight. Jake settles on my other side. We smooth the sheet over so it covers all three of us.
For a while, it’s quiet. Jake and Damian’s shoulders press against mine, a warmth that’s both comforting and complicated. I’ve fallen asleep between them like this before, and it feels familiar. Maybe too familiar.
Damian shifts first, a tiny movement. His knees bump mine—once, then again. I nudge him back under the blanket, half playful, half warning. He doesn’t stop. His foot finds mine and presses lightly, on purpose.
“Cut it out,” I whisper.
No answer. The mattress squeaks. Another nudge.
Then he turns onto his side, facing me, his breath ghosting closer to my ear. I freeze, trying to keep my own breathing steady. Silence stretches. Then his knees brush mine again, and one foot wriggles between my ankles with a ridiculous persistence that makes my lips twitch.
“Voss,” Jake hisses, “if your foot touches me in the night, Iwillkick you to death by accident.”
The laugh I’ve been suppressing escapes me as a snort. Damian answers with a choked, breathy laugh that makes Jake chuckle quietly as well.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ryder grumbles from the chair.
There’s half a beat of stillness…and then we all burst out laughing. It comes up bright and uncontrollable, bubbling out of me. Jake lets out a high-pitched giggle that gets Damian and I going even harder, and then Ryder readjusts pointedly, which only makes it worse. We giggle, laugh, snort, try to suppress it. Eventually the wave ebbs, leaving us breathless and trembling.
Damian exhales, and I can hear the smile in it. Jake clears his throat, pretending at seriousness. My heart is thumping too fast.
After a while, Damian shifts again. This time, his foot brushes mine by accident, but a toenail scrapes the arch of my foot and I jolt, kicking my foot sideways and accidentally hitting Jake’s shin.
A squeal of hysteria escapes Damian as Jake yelps and retaliates instantly, sliding his foot between my ankles to jab Damian with a bark of laughter.
“Get your fucking foot away from me,” he cries, laughing so hard his voice cracks.
I wheeze. Damian folds, burying his face in the mattress, shoulders shaking. Giggling, Jake reaches over me to smack him.
In the firelight I catch Jake’s wide grin, the sharp angles of his face, the spark in those green eyes—and joy surges through me. I’m laughing so hard tears spill over, pinned under Jake’s weight as he leans across me to thump Damian again.
“JesusChrist,” Ryder mutters. “This is the sixth-grade sleepover of my nightmares.”
Damian flails an arm over me to smack Jake back, hands windmilling wildly, and I duck into the pillow with a helpless, delighted choke.
“That’s it,” Jake says, voice breaking, “you’re asking for it.”
He reaches over the edge of the bed, grabs a couch cushion from the floor, and hurls it toward Damian.
It arcs perfectly through the dim firelight…misses Damian by a foot…and hits Ryder square in the shoulder with a heavywhump.
Ryder snaps, “Jesus Christ,” batting it away.
There’s one frozen heartbeat—and then we collapse into hysterics. Damian emits a keening sound that is so completely unrestrained it has Jake and I doubling over. I’m helpless against the absolute hysteria that has gripped me. Every time itstarts to die, I catch sight of one of them shaking with laughter and I lose it all over again.
I’m laughing so hard my face hurts. My stomach starts to cramp. Jake is facedown in the mattress making strangled noises, and Damian is curled like a shrimp, feet kicking uselessly. It is beyond unhinged and absolutely out of control, and somehow Ryder doesn’t crack for a second. He folds his arms and turns away from us, which only makes it all seem more ridiculous.
It’s Wyatt who finally shuts us down. His voice appears from the bedroom doorway, rough with sleep. “Sorry, idiots, but I need to get some rest.”
He closes the door with a click. The reminder of his condition cuts through the hysteria somewhat. We try to quiet ourselves, lying back with shaking breaths. The silence settles with a charge—I know the second someone cracks, we’ll all go again.
Damian snorts.
I erupt.
