Carson shrugs. “I’m willing to test the theory. For science.”
I roll my eyes and reach for the taco. “You’re a menace.”
“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “But I’m your menace.”
Hunter chuckles beside me. “Let the girl eat, Carson.”
“Gladly,” Carson says. “But if she doesn’t make that sound again in the next five minutes, I’m staging an intervention.”
“Fine. But I’m not moaning again just to feed your ego.”
“It’s not just for my ego,” Carson says with a wink. “It’s for morale. Team bonding.”
I take a bite.
And yeah…maybe a sound slips out.
Graham exhales a quiet laugh near my ear. Hunter presses a kiss to my shoulder.
Carson pumps a fist in the air like he just won something. “That’s what I’m talking about. Morale restored.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I murmur, but it’s warm and fond. Safe.
My eyes sweep over the kitchen—the warm lights, the mess of dishes, the empty plates scattered across the counter. The laughter still lingering in the air.
This. Right here. It’s not what I expected when all of this started, but it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
Hunter leans against the counter beside me, rubbing lazy circles against my thigh. Graham is still close. And Carson…he’s already reaching for another taco, pretending we didn’t just have a group therapy session over dinner.
My heart settles.
Not because everything is figured out, but because I’m not doing this alone.
Not anymore.
I take another bite, licking sauce from my fingers, and glance at the three men who turned my world upside down just to put it back together again.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Let’s figure it out. Together.”
The tarmac smellslike heat and jet fuel.
Sunlight glares off the sleek white curve of the private plane waiting for us, the kind that probably has leather seats, champagne chillers, and more legroom than any of us know what to do with. A long staircase is lowered, and a uniformed crew member waits at the top as if we’re royalty.
My dad really went all in on this one.
“Holy shit,” Cheese breathes, dragging her suitcase with one wheel that doesn’t roll straight. “Tell me this isn’t ours.”
Daisy’s jaw is still hanging open. “I thought you said plane, not Bond villain lair on wings.”
“It’s just transportation,” I mutter.
Knox whistles low under her breath. “Right. And the Empire State Building is just a tall-ass office.”
Behind me, Hunter chuckles as he adjusts the strap on his duffel. “Your teammates are fun.”
“They’re dramatic,” I say, but I’m smiling.
Carson rolls his eyes, brushing his arm against mine. “Don’t pretend you’re not smug about this.”
