I sink between them, the cushions dipping under my weight. Linkin leans his shoulder into mine immediately, warm and grounding. “And just so you know,” he adds, tilting his head toward me with a crooked grin, “I’m more than happy to let you play with my hair; it has therapeutic benefits and ten out of ten doctors recommend.”
Shiloh kisses her teeth from across the room. “Please. If she’s gonna play with anyone’s hair, it’s gonna be Lucian’s. Man’s got the whole shampoo-commercial thing going on.”
Lucian groans, dragging a hand through his long, wavy hair like he regrets letting his hair down around them. “Can we not do this right now?”
But the tension breaks. Linkin nudges my knee with his. Lucian’s thigh is solid against mine on the other side. The roomis still heavy, still full of everything unsaid, but it’s no longer suffocating.
Shiloh hands me my favorite mug, the one with the chipped rim and the tiny crescent crack near the handle, and the warmth of it seeps into my palms. Seeing my cup again knocks the air out of me for a second. I thought it was gone with everything else, lost in the wreckage of my rig. But here it is, solid and warm and mine.
My hands are still shaking, but the tea doesn’t spill. Small victories or whatever. The steam curls up into my face, chamomile and honey and something minty, and for a moment I just stare into it like it might tell me who I’m supposed to be now.
Having arrived sometime during my shower, Rowan clears his throat, the sound slicing through the quiet. “We were just about to talk next steps.”
The words make my stomach dip. Next steps. Like this is a strategy meeting and not the aftermath of my world tilting sideways.
Shiloh is the first to speak. “I’m going to try to fly back home to Miami tomorrow. My mom and my sisters have been blowing up my phone about somenewdrama involving my Tío.”
“Spending time with the fam sounds good,” Linkin says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to head back to California. I was going to go between shows to handle a few things, but I can take my time and get everything situated there.”
Then Korbyn shifts, clearing her throat. “I’m going back home, too. I’ll be packing up all my stuff from the house. I’m leaving James.”
The room freezes, and even the air seems to stop moving.
Rowan blinks like he misheard. “Wait. For real?”
She nods, jaw set. “I had the divorce papers drawn up a few weeks ago after someone sent me all those pictures. I’ve justbeen sitting on them. With the vandalism on Celeste’s rig, I thought he knew, so I was just waiting until he got arrested or… y’know. I’ve decided I’m leaving the state. I don’t ever want to run into him again.”
Linkin explodes.
He launches off the couch like a firework, lets out a whoop loud enough to rattle the cabinets, and before anyone can react, he scoops Korbyn clean off her feet. She yelps, startled, but he’s already spinning her in a full circle, her legs kicking out, her laughter breaking free in bright, breathless bursts.
“LET’S FUCKIN’ GO!” he shouts, spinning her again. “FINALLY! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR WEEKS—PUT IT ON THE CALENDAR—THIS IS A NATIONAL HOLIDAY—”
“Linkin, put me down!” she laughs, swatting at his shoulder.
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he says, spinning her one more time for good measure before setting her back on her feet, breathless and flushed.
Shiloh is laughing into her mug. Rowan’s grinning like someone just handed him a winning lottery ticket. Even Lucian’s mouth twitches, the closest he gets to a smile when he’s worried.
I can’t help it, I smile too. “You should be so proud of yourself, you’ve been done for a while, and now you’re finally putting it into motion.”
Korbyn shrugs, but there’s a steadiness behind it. “It’s long overdue.”
Rowan stands and pulls her into a hug, and then Linkin piles on, and then Shiloh, and suddenly they’re all wrapped around her in a chaotic, lopsided group hug that looks like it might collapse the entire rig.
It’s messy and loud and warm and exactly what this room needed.
Rowan steps back as his expression shifts, the excitement draining into something tight and pained. He looks like he’s chewing glass. “Instead of heading back first thing, why don’t you stay with me for a while. I have a few things to take care of, but once I’m done, I can help you move.”
Korbyn softens, just a fraction. “I like that idea.” I can hear the slight tremor in her voice as I notice the way her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt.
The room erupts again, everyone talking over each other in a way that feels like oxygen returning to the space. Linkin throws himself back onto the couch and shouts, “Are you gonna torch the house on the way out? Because I volunteer as tribute to hold the lighter.”
Shiloh raises a hand like she’s in class. “I can hex James. Just a little, nothingtoopermanent. Maybe I can make his hair fall out in patches.”
The laughter rolls through the room, warm and chaotic and familiar. It buzzes with Korbyn’s decision, with Shiloh’s plans, with Linkin’s ridiculous commentary. For a moment, I forget why we need to make these plans.
Then the quiet creeps in, and all eyes slowly turn to me.
