“He will.” Caleb, who was already drunker than he’d been in a long time, set the bottle on the table. It wobbled, then came to a stop without falling over. “And if he doesn’t, it’s not your responsibility anymore. For as long as you’re here with us, we’re gonna keep you safe. You, Parker, and Shep.”
“You mean it?”
“Psh. Yeah.” Caleb closed his eyes and rested his head on Jayne’s. Jayne’s hair was soft on his cheek. “Even heroes need help sometimes. It’s no big. We’ll help you reclaim your happily ever after. Call us… I don’t know. Call us, like, the Fairytale Fixers. We’ll get a website, a sign, rent out an old fire station… it’ll be great. People’ll hire us from all over to come fix their fairytale endings, but, you know, we’ll probably end up turning them down. Our first case is going to be our best case, and I feel like… like we’ll never get over it, cuz we’ll be too busy making sure you stay safe. Now. Forever. Always.”
Jayne’s hand slipped inward. For a moment, Caleb was sure that he was going to stroke it all the way up his thigh, but as one second passed, then the next, Jayne didn’t move. His breathing leveled and deepened, and the weight he’d been holding on his own slumped against Caleb in full. He’d fallen asleep.
“Good night,” Caleb whispered. He made no attempt to move. With the couch behind him, supporting his back, and Jayne snuggled up to one side, he didn’t feel the need. It was comfy here. Cozy. Warm. Good. Plus, if Jayne’s evil ex-boyfriend appeared out of nowhere, Caleb would be exactly where he needed to be in order to take him down.
Caleb smiled.
The promise he’d made Jayne lingered on his lips.
We’ll keep you safe.
It felt right, and that was more than Caleb had been able to say about his life for a long, long time.
26
Everett
The lock twisted beneath the force of Everett’s key, and with a twist of the knob, the door opened. The living room lights were still on. Everett, who was used to coming home to a dark house, blinked, then saw what had happened and couldn’t help but smile. Caleb and Jayne were asleep on the floor, their backs propped against the couch. Jayne’s head was rested on Caleb’s shoulder, and Caleb, in turn, used the top of Jayne’s head like a neck pillow. Each small, grumbling snore Caleb made disturbed Jayne’s lush, tawny brown hair. An open bottle of Collingwood whiskey that had been sealed when Everett had left the condo earlier that evening sat on the coffee table in front of them. Only half remained.
“Go hard or go home,” Everett murmured. He closed and locked the door, then shrugged off his suit jacket and folded it over his arm. Most nights after getting back from work, he’d take a quick shower, chill out in front of the television for an hour to unwind, then crawl into bed beside Caleb and pass out. Tonight would be a departure from the norm.
Everett left Caleb and Jayne where they were to hang his jacket in the bedroom and change into comfortable pajama pants. Then, no longer restricted by his formal attire, he left the room and returned to Caleb and Jayne.
“Caleb?” Everett asked. When Caleb didn’t stir, Everett squatted down beside him and ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, Caleb.”
“F’koff,” Caleb mumbled, very much still asleep.
Everett sighed. “Wake up.”
Caleb buried his face in Jayne’s hair in retaliation. Jayne was too deeply asleep to care.
“I’m not leaving you all night on the living room floor,” Everett mumbled. He pressed a kiss to Caleb’s forehead and took his hand so he could massage the skin between Caleb’s thumb and forefinger. Years ago, Everett had heard that there was a pressure point there that, when activated, would help wake a person up. Whether it was true or not, he didn’t know, but it was worth a shot. “C’mon, Sleeping Beauty. If you’re gonna sleep for the next thousand years, you’ll need to do it on your side of the bed.”
Caleb groaned and lifted his head. He opened his eyes the narrowest bit, then sighed dramatically and rolled his head back until it rested on the couch cushion. “Wh’time’sit?”
“Almost four in the morning.”
Caleb groaned again, the noise throatier and far more anguished this time around. “Fuck me.”
“How long have you been on the floor?”
With a withering sigh, Caleb lifted his head. It took him visible effort to lift his chin enough to look into Everett’s eyes, and once he had, he blinked slowly several times, like his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. The last time Everett had seen him so drunk was after Alex’s wedding, when they’d rented a hotel room and spent the night with identical triplets who had too few morals and too much tequila. “Too long.”
“Is everything okay?”
It had been Everett’s hope that he’d get home, go to bed, and wake up early the next morning so he had a chance to tell Caleb and Jayne about the encounter he’d had at work. With both of them so far gone, Everett doubted that plan would come to fruition. He couldn’t blame Caleb—Everett hadn’t sent him a text to tell him what had happened, or to ask him if he’d be willing to get up early so they could talk the next morning—but he couldn’t help but feel stress start to net itself between his ribs, tightening them to the point of discomfort.
The longer Everett sat on what had happened, the more time that psychopath was still out there. Everett didn’t know the full story, but he could piece the essentials together. Jayne’s ex was unhinged and dangerous. He needed to be stopped.
“Okay?” Caleb blinked hard, then rubbed his eyes in frustration and grunted. “I mean, I’guess so. Baby, y’should’ve been here… Jayne’s…” Caleb trailed off. He plastered his hand across his eyes, clawed at the skin on the side of his face, then dropped his arm and looked at Everett. Anger intensified the dark brown color of his irises and made their lighter brown striations and freckles pop. They were eyes that Everett had always adored—the kind of eyes that he could look into forever and still never grow tired of—but tonight, they were charged with deep-seated rage that made them spark like struck flint. “No, we’re not okay! Fuck that guy!”
“What guy?” Now that Caleb seemed to be coming to, Everett stood. He offered Caleb his hand. Furious, Caleb clasped it, and Everett pulled him to his feet.
It took Caleb a minute to find his balance, but once he did he crossed his arms over his chest and glared, not at Everett, but seemingly at the memory. “The bastard who hurt Jayne. Fuckin’… fuckin’hatethat guy.”
