“I needed that,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead as he tucks himself in.
“Me too,” I whisper, and wrap my arms around him and burrow into his chest, taking a deep inhale of his scent.
When we finally sit down at the table, plates steaming between us, I’m starving. We talk about small things. The gravel road to Leathernecks is going to need grading again once the spring rains ease up. Jake and Damian want to dig out a pool this year, and Wyatt and Ryder are going to help them as soon as the ground is fully thawed. We debate whether the new show we’ve started watching is actually good or not.
He reaches for my hand across the table, his thumb brushing my pulse, anchoring me in the moment. This is one of the things I love the most. How simple the day to day has become. Just choosing each other again and again.
Upstairs, we brush our teeth side by side. Ryder stands straight, methodical as always, squeezing toothpaste with hismilitary precision. I lean my hip against the counter and watch our reflections in the mirror.
We couldn’t be more different, physically. Ryder so big, he makes the bathroom look small in comparison. Broad shoulders, obscenely defined muscles, his skin a map of ink. His long, dark blond hair hangs loose, giving him a wild, Viking look. Beside him, I look tiny. Just a slip of a thing, even though I’ve gained back all the weight I lost in the clubhouse. My hair is getting long now, falling past my shoulder blades, with ashy gold highlights after the summer. He catches my eye in the reflection and gives me a quick wink, the corner of his mouth lifting in a warm, intimate smile.
In the bedroom, he pulls back the covers while I strip off my clothes.
Ryder’s room used to look like a catalogue. Bed made tight enough to bounce a coin off of, surfaces clear, nothing out of place. The bedroom of a lifelong soldier. But it doesn’t look like that anymore.
My things are everywhere, on every surface, no matter how much I try to tidy. A stack of books on the dresser. My sweater slung over the back of a chair. A collection of hair ties looped around the bed post. Two half-empty glasses of water on my nightstand.
I climb into bed on my side and settle in against him, and he reaches for me and pulls me in.
Once this was a borrowed space, like all the other homes I’ve lived in. Temporary spots where accommodation was made for me. But now it’s a real, permanent place. The house that I live in with Ryder. My home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE STARK CLARITY of the image on my shoulder surprises me. The color is so intense. I had imagined somehow that it would look more faded, absorbed into my skin, but instead it’s crisp and clean.
I’ve seen a thousand tattoos, obviously, but I’ve never seen one on my own skin before.
Fine drops of blood are forming all over, oozing through the color, and I try not to be put off by it. My skin feels tight and hot, like I have a bad sunburn, but the image is beautiful. A perfect rendition of one I’ve seen many times before. Four snakes, fangs bared, entwined around a dagger.
Ryder, Wyatt, Damian and Jake.
It’s…beautiful.
Mine.
“You good, Max?” Luis calls through the door.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Come in.”
He steps into the small bathroom. His eyes flick to the mirror and he gives a nod.
“Looks awesome,” he says.
“Thanks. I love it.”
A pleased smile tugs at his mouth. “All right. I’m gonna wrap it.”
He smoothes ointment over the fresh ink and then sticks plastic wrap over it and tapes it down.
“Leave that till tomorrow. Gentle washing and moisturizing. Don’t pick at it when it starts to peel. I left an instruction sheet for aftercare with Ryder.”
“Don’t peel my snakes,” I repeat solemnly.
He gives me a look. “Do not peel your snakes.”
Outside the bathroom, there’s an air of conviviality in the house. Damian has put on music, Jake is pouring drinks, and Ryder is laying out a selection of snacks.
“You guys have fun tonight,” says Luis, reaching for the doorknob. “Happy…whatever you call it.”
