She laughs like this is all comedy. “I’m fine, Jett.”
“Sure. And I’m a zen master.”
Cassian crowds in even closer, hovering like an anxious golden retriever. Sharon bumps him with her hip.
“Cass, I can stand without you monitoring every molecule around me.”
“I’m not monitoring,” he insists. “I’m ensuring stability.”
“You’re hovering,” I tell him. “And it’s weird.”
“I’m being responsible,” he argues, which is exactly the kind of thing someone being weird would say.
Pine drains the rice again. It makes a sad, wet slap in the sink.
He looks at me, defeated. “I think I killed it.”
“It was never alive, Pine.”
The kitchen smells like a fucking circus, Xavier’s voice pops back into my head. Something about how courting an omega can scramble an alpha’s instincts, knock sense right out of them, make everything go sideways.
At the time, I told him he was full of shit.
Now… yeah. Maybe not.
By the time dinner should be ready, the chicken is overcooked because Cassian got distracted by a work email and forgot to reset the timer. The rice is overcooked again because Pine was so focused on making sure Sharon didn't burn herself on the pot that he forgot to drain it properly the second time. The vegetables are a mushy mess because nobody was paying attention to anything except Sharon.
"So," I say after a long moment of silence. "Anyone want pizza?"
“I’m so fucking hungry right now, that I can eat anything,” Cassian says immediately, looking relieved.
"We have failed," Pine announces, leaning back against the counter.
"On the bright side," Sharon offers, hopping down from the bar stool and moving toward us, "at least nothing actually caught fire."
"The night's still young," I mutter, pulling out my phone to order pizza from the place downtown. "We could still burn down the house if we tried."
Even I end up laughing at my non attempt at a joke.
We end up on the couch with a box of pepperoni pizza and another bottle of wine. Sharon is sitting between us like she belongs there. Like this is exactly where she's supposed to be. Like she fits into our lives the way we always knew she would once she showed up.
"So that was the most chaotic dinner preparation I've ever witnessed," Sharon says, taking another bite of pizza. She's pulled her legs up underneath her, tucked against Cassian's side while I'm on her other side. Pine is in the armchair across from us, watching us with that intense look he gets when he's thinking about something important. "And I once saw my mom try to cook Thanksgiving dinner while wearing roller skates because she was practicing for some kind of sport that she only lasted one day doing."
"Why was she wearing roller skates?" Pine asks.
"She was practicing for something," Sharon shrugs. “You guys are giving her a serious run for her money when it comes to chaos in the kitchen.”
After pizza, Sharon suggests chess. Apparently, Pine has a board somewhere in the house, and she's curious about whether we play. She's also looking at us with that expression that suggests she knows something we don't know yet.
"I play a little," I say.
Which is technically true. I play a little in the same way that I'm a little good at my job. Which is to say, I'm really goodat it. I'm the kind of good at chess where I've beaten basically everyone I know.
Or I thought I was.
We set up the board on the coffee table. Sharon sits across from me on the couch while Cassian and Pine settle in on either side to watch. I've got this serious expression on my face like I'm about to go into battle. Chess is war. Chess is strategy. Chess is the place where I get to prove that my brain is good for something besides performing stunts.
"First game," I announce, stretching my fingers. "I'm black. You're white."
