Soft contact.
Barely anything.
But it landed.
A light drag of contact, enough to register and stay.
Sage sucked in a quick breath—quiet, surprised more than anything—and went still for the briefest second.
Then he huffed a faint breath under it, like he was laughing at himself, and stayed where he was.
Didn’t move away.
Didn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.
Just adjusted.
Aware now.
Law didn’t rush it. He let it sit there between them, quiet and out of place against the noise of the kitchen, his hand closing around the glass as he stayed a second longer than necessary, letting the moment settle into something real.
Sage shifted just enough to give him room without breaking the proximity. His shoulder brushed Law’s chest as he turned, reaching for his coffee mug—this time without missing.
“Careful,” Sage said under his breath, the words dry but lighter now. “You’re real comfortable this morning.”
Law poured water from the pitcher sitting on the counter. “You weren’t complaining last night.”
Sage choked on his sip of coffee.
Boston made a loud, delighted noise. “Oh—there it is.”
One of Law’s brothers laughed outright. “Damn, give the kid a second.”
Micah leaned back against the counter, watching with quiet interest, mouth twitching.
Sage wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting Law a look—sharp, a little wide, a little caught.
“Wow,” he said. “We’re just saying that out loud now?”
Law took a slow drink, unbothered. “You started it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You told me I was in your way.”
“That’s not—” Sage cut himself off, huffing a laugh. “That’s not the same thing.”
“Sounded like an invitation.”
Boston laughed harder. “I’m not leaving. I live here now.”
“You don’t live here,” Rip said from the table, voice easy. “And if you keep talking, I’ll gag you.”
Boston clutched his chest, eyes lit with humor. “Unbelievable. Betrayed.” He paused, then added, “Bring it on.”
“Incorrigible,” Rip muttered.
More laughter.
