Page 74 of What Remains

“I’m fine. Seriously. You all need to stop stressing out. I know I’m not behaving like I should, but that’s by design.” I open my palms skyward, keeping my back to the door to prop it open. “I don’t have the energy to be depressed. It actually takes too much out of me to be sad.” Learned that the hard way after Easton left post-accident. “Fewer facial muscles are used to smile than frown.” I saw that online somewhere, and it sounded legit.

Gray swaps an uneasy expression with Easton. “No one wants you to be sad, and grief is⁠—”

“I didn’t lose anyone, just my rig,” I blurt out, a tad on the grumpy side. “All I care about is keeping everyone we love safe,” I say in as much of an easygoing tone I can muster, “and, of course, stopping Jezebel.” I gesture to Easton and remind my uncle, “He saved me from being raped, so I’m okay.” I bite that out with the kind of harsh intensity such a subject requires, totally losing my faked casualness. “Promise.” That last word is a lame effort to soften what I said, and the second the R word left my mouth, I wanted to shove it back in. It’s too blunt. Too real.

Easton bows his head, his arms going taut at his sides as his fingers curl into fists, and Gray goes the opposite way. Eyes to the ceiling, throat muscles engaged. Both are ready to kill dead men.

I’ve been walking on eggshells to avoid that word. And not for my benefit, but for the overprotective men—especially my dad—on the team. Because of course it’ll hurt them to think about that, not to mention bring their rage front and center. They’re all good human beings and know right from wrong.

But the truth is, I was saved. No sense in harping on what could’ve been. Besides, those dead bastards in that room only have power over me if I let them.

“Work.” I need to de-escalate this conversation for all of us ASAP. “That’s what I should do. I’ll grab Jerry and my headphones and join you.” I spin around before either can say anything and let the door shut behind me.

I drop my head into my hands, and my breath shudders out of me, shaky and uneven.

What just happened out there is why I’d rather tease Easton about his boxer-briefs or discuss the logistics of hedgehogs hugging. Anything but face reality. Which, of course, probably means I’ve got some issues I’ll one day need to work through. And I will. Because I know damn well that new starts never work if you leave unfinished business hanging around.

I lift my head, huff out a deep breath, then head over to the couch for my mobile. Next stop, Jerry and my headphones.

I can do this. I can work with the team. I give myself one more quick pep talk, then loop my headphones around the back of my neck.

New rig in hand, I open the door, only to stop short. Easton’s alone and waiting for me in the hallway. “You didn’t leave,” I whisper.

He removes his hat, drags a hand through his messy hair, then sets it back on face forward. “I told you I’m back, which means I’m not going anywhere. Not ever again. Got it?”

My chest tightens at that promise. “Then, um, did you call your dad to ship all your things yet?”

He grimaces. “I will. Don’t worry.” He takes Jerry from me, then motions toward his room with it. “Now come on, I had your favorite Nespresso pods delivered earlier.” He smiles, but I know he’s trying to mask whatever deep thoughts are tumbling around in his head. “If you’re good, I promise I’ll make you a cup of joe.”

“It’s only fun when I steal it from you.”

“Fine. I’ll hide the hazelnut-flavored ones for you to find. Make it more interesting so you can get your dopamine rush along with your caffeine fix.”

The man always gets me. Understands me in a way very few do.

And yup, I already feel better now that we’re back to banter. I’m officially mentally off that island. I even hip-check him before walking. His movements stutter, just barely, but it’s a tiny tell the touch affected him.

“Just don’t hide the pods in your underwear drawer if you don’t want me to bring up your . . .”

“My what?” He dips his head, leaning in closer, and I breathe in the spearmint flavor of his breath.

I flick the brim of his hat up and murmur, “Dick,” just to see whether he’ll finally get as red in the face as he did with the L word.

The side of his mouth hikes into a partial smile before he resumes chewing his gum. He’s about to say something. Probably something reckless and honest. But then his gaze flicks to the ceiling, as if remembering we’re on candid camera.

He walks back a step and turns, quietly extending my rig in the direction he wants me to walk.

Behaving is no fun, but I do it this time and head to his room.

“Forgot my keycard.” He stands next to me and knocks, and of course it’s Dad who opens up.

Easton steps to the side to let me in first. The man never leaves my back exposed. Always has it, both literally and figuratively. Well, until the crash.

Dad shuts the door behind us, and Easton goes over to the dinner table and drops my rig down. Julian and Gideon have their backs to me, and they’re talking to Zoey and Carter, who are seated across from them.

Dad holds my arm, stopping me from following Easton. “I won’t ask if you’re okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I swallow and peer at him over my shoulder. “So, why are you holding my arm?”