Jay’s mouth quirked. “Of course we remembered. You nearly bit Rhett’s hand off last time he tried to steal your tibs.”
“Nearly?” Rhett said, scandalized. “That was arealbite.”
“You deserved it,” I said sweetly, stepping back so they could come inside.
Roan had already pulled plates from the cupboard and was setting out the ginger beers he’d brought, the glass bottles clicking softly against the counter. The whole thing unfolded so naturally that I had to take a beat just to absorb it.
Four people in my kitchen, unpacking food, laughing over dumb jokes, the kind of easy chaos that felt like family.
Dinner was messy and delicious. Rhett tried to pretend he didn’t like injera until I caught him sneaking another piece. Jay added his usual quiet wit to the mix, throwing in small, dry observations that had me laughing until I nearly choked on my drink. Roan mostly watched, amused, adding a comment here and there, that golden calm in his eyes like an anchor holding us all steady.
At some point, the food gave way to cards—Rhett insisting on teaching me a game that made absolutely no sense, Roan cleaning up the table, and Jay calling him a shark under his breath when Roan won three hands in a row. The ginger beers disappeared, replaced by sparkling water and half a bowl of chocolate-covered almonds that Rhett guarded like treasure.
For a few blissful hours, everything was easy. No heat. No tension. No complicated questions waiting just outside the light.
Justus—real, relaxed, laughing so much my cheeks hurt.
Eventually, Roan stretched, checked his watch, and sighed. “All right. Drill at eight tomorrow.”
The groans were immediate.
Jay tossed down his cards. “You’re the devil.”
Slouching dramatically in his chair, Rhett shot Roan a droll look. “Can’t we just—stay? She’s got couches. Blankets. Snacks.”
I laughed. “I’ll even let you have the rest of the almonds if you go quietly.”
He brightened. “Done.”
They helped me clean up in their normal modes with Roan’s efficiency, Jay’s attention to detail, and Rhett causing good-natured chaos. When it came time to leave, the goodbyes came naturally, too.
Roan kissed me first. It was softer than before, a brush of promise that left my pulse skipping.
Then Rhett caught me up in a bear hug that lifted me clean off the ground. “You’re amazing,” he said into my hair, voice rougher than I expected. “Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” I managed, breathless and smiling.
Jay was last. He didn’t say anything at first, just pulled me into a quiet, lingering hug that felt like calm itself. When he finally leaned back, his gaze was steady and fond.
“I’ll bring you coffee tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Jay—”
“Don’t argue.” A small smirk curved his mouth. “Croissants still your favorite, or have you switched to danishes?”
My throat tightened unexpectedly. “Croissants,” I said softly. “Always.”
He nodded, satisfied, brushing his thumb briefly along my knuckles before stepping back.
“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
The space was too quiet once the door shut behind them. Not in a bad way, just in the way silence always seemed to follow something good. The echo of laughter still lingered, faint and sweet, like the warmth on my lips where Roan had kissed me, or the low brush of Jay’s voice in my ear.
I let myself stand there for another beat, toes curling into the rug, one arm crossed over my waist like I could hold the feeling a little longer.
Sadly, reality didn’t wait no matter how much we might want it to.
So I padded into my bedroom, grabbed my laptop and my phone from where they’d been haphazardly abandoned when I got home, then carried them out to the living room. After I madea cup of tea, I curled up on the couch, a fresh blanket over my lap and then I opened the floodgates.
