Page 140 of Vow to Claim You

She laughs, and the knot in my chest loosens. She’s been doing that more lately. Laughing. Relaxing. Letting the tension drain out of her shoulders bit by bit, day by day.

Almost six weeks in Norway, and she’s starting to look less like a girl who fled her country in terror and more like a girl who might actually be okay.

I know who to thank for that.

As if summoned by the thought—which, honestly, he probably was, because Eero has a supernatural talent for materializing wherever Naomi happens to be—the library door opens.

“Ladies.”

Eero leans against the doorframe with that easy grin, and enough confidence to suggest he’s never doubted his own appeal for a single second.

I watch Naomi try not to react. She fails spectacularly. Her book slips. Her cheeks flush. She becomes suddenly, intensely interested in a page she definitely wasn’t reading—though she’s now holding the book upside down and hasn’t noticed.

Oh, little sister. You have it bad.

“Eero. Can I help you with something?” My tone oozes sarcasm.

“Just checking in.” He pushes off the doorframe and saunters in with effortless confidence. “Seeing if you needed anything. Coffee. Tea. Target practice.”

That last one is aimed at Naomi, with a look I’m definitely not supposed to see.

She blushes harder.

“Target practice?” I arch a brow.

“Naomi’s been learning to shoot.” Eero drops into an armchair like he owns it. “She’s a natural. Steady hands. Good instincts. Hit three bull’s-eyes yesterday.”

“Four,” Naomi corrects quietly, then immediately looks like she wishes she hadn’t.

Eero’s grin widens. “Four. My mistake.”

I look between them. The air in the room has shifted—thickened, charged with the kind of electricity that exists between two people pretending not to want each other when everyone can see they do.

Eight weeks ago, I warned Naomi not to fall for any brooding Vold brothers.

She ignored me. In her defense, Eero isn’t brooding. He’s the opposite of brooding. He’s sunlight and bad jokes, and watching him with my sister is like watching ice cream melt—inevitable, messy, and probably going to make a disaster of everything.

But also, infuriatingly sweet.

The way he looks at her when she isn’t looking. The way he invents excuses to be wherever she is. The way his whole face changes when she laughs at something he’s said—softer, younger, stripped of the performance he wears for everyone else.

Aric told me Eero swore he was serious, and I’m starting to believe it.

“So,” I say, setting down my pen and fixing Eero with a look. “Target practice. Shooting lessons. What else have you been teaching my sister?”

He holds up his hands. “Purely educational. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Scout.”

“In spirit.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Naomi watches the exchange with her cheeks reddening by the second, most likely praying for the floor to open and swallow her whole. “Ayanna⁠—”

“It’s fine.” I wave a hand. “I’m just making sure your instructor understands that if anything happens to you, I’ll personally ensure he never uses his hands again.”

Eero grins. “Noted.”