Page 139 of Beautiful When He Breaks

I look at him because I’m helpless not to. He looks back because apparently, he has the same disease. His hazel eyes are still heavy with everything Mara said, but under it is something softer, private, and so fucking obvious to me now that I don’t know how I ever missed it.

Maybe I didn’t. Maybe missing it was just a thing I told myself because seeing it would have required admitting what it meant.

His mouth shifts like he’s about to say something to me, and I’m ready for it. So stupidly ready, my whole body is leaning toward his voice before he even uses it.

Then Ryan clears his throat.

It is not a subtle throat clear or a polite little social cue. It is the kind of noise a man makes when he has decided, against all sense and survival instinct, to detonate a room because silence makes him itchy.

“So,” he says from near the island, holding his coffee mug with both hands and looking far too innocent for someone who has never been innocent a day in his life, “was anyone gonna mention the sounds coming from Julian’s room last night, or are we all doing that very mature thing where we pretend this house has soundproof walls?”

My entire body catches fire, and my soul leaves my body.

There is no other way to explain it. One second, I’m a legal father holding my daughter and processing a potential criminal investigation. The next second, I am a red-faced twenty-two-year-old who wants to crawl into the dishwasher and let Liam run a sterilize cycle.

Julian goes very still beside me, but before I can say a thing, Luca is moving like he’s been waiting for this exact disaster his entire athletic career.

He crosses the space behind Ryan with the grim speed of a quarterback reading a blitz and, without one second of hesitation, wraps both arms around Ryan from behind. One forearm locks across Ryan’s chest while his other hand clamps directly over his mouth. Ryan makes a muffled sound of outrage, coffee sloshing dangerously in his mug, while Luca drags him backward two full steps.

“Absolutely not,” Luca says, with the exhausted authority of a captain, boyfriend, and emergency Ryan handler. “Nope. We are not doing this.”

Ryan tries to speak around Luca’s hand, the words coming out as offended nonsense.

Luca tightens his grip. “I know you have thoughts. I know you believe every thought deserves release into the world. You are wrong.”

Ryan makes a muffled sound of protest against Luca’s palm, eyes wide with theatrical offense.

Luca tightens his arm around him. “You asked the question none of us wanted to ask, which is exactly why you shouldn’t have asked it.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, and he starts talking anyway, every word reduced to garbled noise.

“Not a single intelligible syllable,” Luca tells him. “That’s my favorite version of you.”

Sage, leaning against the far counter with his coffee held near his chest, closes his eyes. Liam turns slowly from the fridge with Mila’s bottle in hand, his expression suspended somewhere between horror and the dead calm of a man who has accepted that he lives with animals.

Roman lowers his mug from his mouth, not quite hiding his smile. Damon presses two fingers to his lips and looks down, which would seem polite if his shoulders weren’t shaking. Adrian stands by the doorway with that smooth, unreadable goalie face he gets when he’s witnessing something he will absolutely weaponize later. Thorn, meanwhile, starts grinning with a sucker in his mouth.

I, on the other hand, want to die.

“Oh my God,” I say, but it comes out strangled because Mila is still in my arms and I can’t even use both hands to cover my face like I desperately want to.

Julian turns his face away, but not fast enough. I see the smile. “Don’t.”

He looks back, eyes bright despite the tension still under his skin. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You smiled.”

“I’m emotionally reacting.”

“I will put you outside.”

His smile twitches harder. “That feels harsh after last night, baby.”

Luca makes a loud, strangled noise while still holding Ryan hostage. Sage’s eyes fly open. Liam says, “Julian,” in the same tone he uses when Ryan tries to microwave foil. Roman loses the battle and laughs into his mug. Damon turns fully into Roman’s shoulder, shaking now. Thorn looks delighted enough to be punched.

My soul leaves my body a second time.

“Why would you say that?” I demand, glaring at Julian while Mila pats my jaw with one tiny damp hand. “Why would you make it worse?”