Killian is moving like a general at war, delegating the entire barbecue like it’s a covert op: Ryan and Roman on grill duty—Roman arguing that Ryan will burn the steaks, Ryan telling him to piss off. Luca is dragging a folding table across the lawn, Thorn and Damon are hanging up string lights and swearing when one of them blows a fuse.
Damon’s only here for the weekend, and the fact that Roman has been constantly glued to his side is both hilarious and good to see. He’s all ease, grinning like a dope every time Damon so much as looks at him. Damon, of course, acts like he barely notices, but his hand never leaves Roman’s lower back.
Julian and Eli keep a careful distance, talking to everyone but never to each other, orbiting in the same space but refusing to collide. There’s tension there, enough that the house still notices, everyone tiptoeing around their silent war.
They’re all scattered between tasks, but not Sage and Nate, who’ve claimed matching loungers by the shallow end and are sunbathing, sunglasses on, trading sarcastic commentary about everyone’s work ethic.
Noah sighs, tucking his feet up, and I tighten my arms around him. “You good, Blue?”
He nods, tipping his head up to look at me, sunlight glinting off his glasses. “Yeah. Just… I could stay here forever, I think.”
“You’re stuck with me until I decide otherwise,” I tease, even though the thought of him leaving—packing up and heading to New York, even if it’s just for a while—makes my stomach twist.
He laughs, fingers curling into my forearm. I press my chin to his shoulder, close my eyes, breathing him in—chlorine, sunscreen, the lingering sweetness of his citrus shampoo. I wishI could freeze this. I wish I could hold onto it forever. But I know it won’t last, not exactly.
He’s going to New York soon—he needs the space, the distance from all the things here that have hurt him. I want to be selfish, keep him tucked under my arm every day, wake up with him, feed him, make him laugh, make him safe. But if letting him go for a while means he gets to be happy, I’ll do it. I’ll do it a hundred times over.
Luca’s voice shouts across the yard, breaking the spell. “Hey, where’s Red? Somebody tell the ginger he’s not getting out of kitchen duty.”
Shrugs and a chorus of“Dunno, man’s”sounds across the yard. Liam pulls out his phone, already dialing. “I’ll give him a call. He was supposed to help with the skewers. If he’s ghosting again, I swear to god—”
Noah stirs, fidgeting with the hem of my swim trunks. “Hey, Mien?” he murmurs, so quiet I have to dip my head to hear him. “Can I tell you something? It’s about Adrian.”
I nod, instantly alert to the change in his tone. “Of course. What’s up?”
He twists his hands together in his lap, not looking at me, his eyes fixed somewhere over the pool where Sage and Nate are squabbling about SPF. “When you left for your game the other day, Adrian came by. He was acting weird. I mean, more than usual.” He lets out a forced, shaky laugh. “But he wouldn’t look at me, kept apologizing and saying it was his fault I was hurt. He said it a bunch of times. That he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to, that he never wanted me to get hurt.”
A chill slides down my spine, the kind that comes from hearing something that doesn’t add up. “Did he say what he meant? Did he… do something?”
Noah shakes his head, frowning. “No, he wouldn’t tell me. I tried to get him to talk, but he got spooked and took off before I could ask him anything else.”
I stare out over the pool, feeling a familiar dread settle in my chest. I don’t want to put the pieces together because they don’t make sense. Adrian is a good guy, a sweet guy—quiet, almost invisible sometimes, but he’s kind to his core.
He’s been one of the only people Noah’s really opened up to since he got here, and I know they hang out sometimes, go for coffee, or just sit by the river and talk. But this? Apologizing? Blaming himself?
“He said it was his fault you got hurt?” I ask.
Noah nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah. He looked like he was about to cry, Mien. I thought maybe he was blaming himself for not noticing how bad I was getting, but… I don’t know. Something felt off. He wouldn’t even look at me. I’ve never seen him like that.”
The pieces are there, jagged and refusing to slot together. Adrian’s been acting off for weeks, but we chalked it up to stress, finals, maybe something with his family. But guilt—real, ugly guilt—was never part of the equation, and now I can’t shake the suspicion that we’ve missed something big.
Noah turns in my lap to face me fully, his eyes wide and a little afraid. “Do you think… he did something? Do you think he told my dad where I was, or…?”
I want to lie, to tell him there’s no way, but I can’t do that to him. Not after everything. “I don’t know, Blue. Adrian’s never been anything but good to you. But fuck… I don’t know. We should talk to him, yeah? Figure out what’s going on before we start panicking.”
Noah nods, curling closer, burying his face in my neck. “Yeah. I hear you. I just… I can’t do this again, Damien. I can’t goback to hiding, or watching everything I say, or… having people betray me. I can’t.”
I feel him take a shaky breath, letting it out against my collarbone. The backyard swells with the sound of laughter and music, the smell of charcoal and spices filling the air as Killian shouts orders at Roman and Thorn, and Damon and Luca start a wrestling match over the last of the chips. There’s life here, the kind that swallows grief whole and spits it out as something survivable.
But beneath it all, there’s a chill running through me. Because Noah’s right—he can’t take another betrayal. And if Adrian has been hiding something, it’s only a matter of time before it all comes to light.
I press another kiss to his temple, holding him as close as I can. “You want me to talk to Killian?” I murmur.
Noah nods, so faintly that I feel it more than see it. He draws a breath, squares his shoulders the way I’ve watched him do before a swim meet, as if steeling himself for a cold plunge. I give his hip a reassuring squeeze and slide him off my lap—reluctant to lose the weight of him but needing to fix this for him.
I pull him up with me, both of us walking barefoot across the warm stone where Killian stands by the grill, one eye on Roman and Thorn, who are now arguing over whether or not you can grill pineapple.
He looks up as we approach, a single eyebrow arching as he sees the two of us together, his usual cool focus shifting in an instant. “What’s up?” he asks.
