“I can explain—”
He shakes his head, that almost-smile still playing at his mouth. “You don’t need to explain anything.” He crosses to the bed, sets the clothes on the edge. “You’re glowing. It looks good on you.”
My face goes hotter. I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.
“Here.” He nods at the pile. “It’s the best I could find after what happened to your room, but we’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks, Beckett.”
He nods, his eyes holding mine for just a second longer than necessary—something warm there that I feel more than see.
Then he’s gone, closing the door softly behind him.
I sit there for a moment, sheet clutched to my chest, smile still on my face.
Okay. I can do this.
I get dressed quickly—soft gray joggers, a black t-shirt that’s definitely not mine but fits well enough. I can hear the shower still running as I slip out of Kyron’s room and head downstairs.
The kitchen is full.
Vaelor’s at the stove. Rane’s at the table with his phone. Locke’s leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee.
Nobody’s talking.
That’s the first thing I notice. The kitchen is never this quiet. Someone’s always bickering about something, or Rane’s narrating whatever he’s reading, or Vaelor’s humming while he cooks.
Right now? Silence. Like they are trying very hard to act normal. And failing, miserably.
I stop in the doorway.
Rane looks up first. His mouth twitches.
Oh.
Oh.
They heard us.
“So,” Rane says, way too casual. “Sleep well?”
My face goes hot. “Um. Yeah.”
Locke takes a sip of coffee. Doesn’t look at me.
“Loudly.”
Vaelor chokes on something. Rane’s grin cracks wide open. I want to sink through the floor.
“Oh my god.”
“Thin walls,” Rane offers helpfully.
“Very thin,” Vaelor adds, not turning from the stove.
“I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t.” Rane’s enjoying this way too much.
