“There are some wildlife out there getting fucked.” Ian’s grin turns absolutely feral. “I’m pretty sure I heard a bear roar in solidarity. Or maybe it was just you. Hard to tell with all the moaning. Congrats, man— you’ve got the local deer population traumatized and rethinking their life choices. They’re probably out there unionizing right now. ‘No more loud humans during mating season.’”
“Shut the fuck up, Ian.”
“Make me.” He pushes off the wall, eyes sparkling. “Or better yet, go back in there and give her round three. I’ll stand guard. Maybe sell tickets to the squirrels. Front row seats for the horny wildlife.”
I shove his shoulder—hard. He rocks back but just laughs.
We start down the hallway, still trading barbs under our breath. The familiar rhythm feels… good. Normal. Or as normal as things ever get with us.
I stop at the top of the stairs and look at him properly. The bruises I put on his face have mostly faded, but I still see them every time I look at him.
“I’m sorry.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“For the hits. For all of it.”
The smirk fades into something quieter. He studies me for a long second. “I know you are.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want from me? A fucking parade?” He tilts his head. “You want the full itemized list? Because I’ve been keeping score. There’s the black eye—which, honestly, I’ve had worse from prettier people. The rib I’m still pretending doesn’t scream every time I breathe. And that one night around day two where you clocked me in the jaw so hard I saw a color that doesn’t exist on the visible spectrum. I named itReth’s Regret.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches. “Such a fucking smart-ass.”
“Nope. Not done.” He holds up a finger, warming to it now, that wicked sparkle creeping back into his eyes. “There was also the chair incident. We’re both pretending that didn’t happen, right? You throwing me like a goddamn rag doll? Classic. And the time you grabbed my collar so hard I had to trash the shirt. It was my favorite one, by the way. The soft black one. You owe me fashion reparations.”
I stare at him. The bastard’s grinning now, full dimples, like listing the ways I tried to murder him is the highlight of his week.
“Buy me a drink somewhere expensive,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “Somewhere with tiny forks and a wine list that costs more than my soul. We’re even.”
“Done.”
“And you have to admit I was right about the diary.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Three little words, Reth.Ian. Was. Right.I’ll take it to my grave. Nobody has to know—well, except Crazy, but she already thinks I’m a genius.”
“Asshole.”
“Fine.” The smirk softens into something real, unguarded. The first crack I’ve seen in his armor in weeks. He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re even. But I reserve the right to bring this up at your wedding. I’ll be the best man, obviously. Speech will be legendary. ‘And then he punched me in the face, but look at them now?—’”
I stop on the third step down, turning to glare at him. “My what?”
“Your wedding. What?” He blinks, all mock innocence. “I didn’t say anything. Keep walking, big guy. Don’t let me distract you with your inevitable future of domestic bliss and therapy bills.”
We reach the bottom of the stairs, and I’m still shaking my head when I see Andrei standing in the kitchen.
Ian goes still at the exact same moment I do. “Before you do what I think you’re about to do?—”
I push past him, already clenching my fist. Andrei just stands there like he’s been waiting for judgment day. I don’tbreak stride. My fist connects clean with his jaw—solid, satisfying. He takes it without flinching, head snapping to the side. A thin line of blood blooms at the corner of his mouth.
“She got within arm’s reach of her,” I growl.
“Yes.” Andrei works his jaw, tasting blood. His eyes meet mine without apology. “It won’t happen again.”
“No.” I hold his gaze, letting him see the promise there. “It won’t.”
