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“They’ll go soon.” I push myself onto my tiptoes and kiss him. “Let’s pretend this situation isn’t happening for the next twenty minutes, okay? I just need a bit of normality before I realize how entirely fucked up everything is.” He hums and nods. “Tell me what to do.”
He orders me into the shower, and I happily obey. I didn’t have chance to really admire the en suite last night, but it’s bigger than our family bathroom at home. Gold-infused black marble, a bathtub set into the floor, a shower the size of a small bedroom. It’s like a bachelor pad and generational wealth fucked, and this is its garish, overpriced love child.
It’s not ugly, though. Just … a lot.
When I finish my shower, a towel and clothes are folded and waiting for me on a black velvet chair. I pick up each item and examine them, frowning gently because they’re my clothes—mom jeans, a long, fitted top, and fluffy socks—but they have labels on them.
“They’re from an emergency bag,” Zayden says from the doorway. “Whatever you wore most at home, I picked up seconds from the store and had ready for times like this. I wanted you to be comfortable.”
I run my thumb across one of the labels. “That’s thoughtful.”
“But?”
Our eyes meet, and I force a smile. “It’s scary that you knew this day would come.”
“I’m prepared for every eventuality.”
“Even aliens?”
He scoffs. “Especially aliens.”
This time, my smile is real. “We’re gonna be okay, right?”
“More than okay, baby.”
I trust him, and not just because I don’t have a choice.
I dress, tossing the labels in the trash, and note the bloody gauze.
“How’s Xavier?” I ask.
Zayden takes my hand as we leave the bedroom and head downstairs. “In pain. There’s a medical room, though, so you can look at him properly there.”
The foyer is significantly warmer than it was last night, but there’s still a chill that I imagine a house this big can’t completely eradicate without burning through money.
Yale and Xavier are in the kitchen. They’re in clean clothes, similarly casual to Zayden. Sweatpants, but Yale is in a henley, and Xavier is in a worn gray hoody.
The kitchen is the same black marble as the bathroom, spiderwebs of gold creeping through it. Yale is sitting on a stool at the island and swivels it to face me.
“Coffee, love?”
“No, thanks. I’m guessing my anxiety is already gonna be sky high today.”
I lean between Yale’s legs, and he puts his arm around my waist so my back meets his chest. Xavier watches us, his gaze straying to where Yale’s hand rests comfortably on my stomach, and my neck heats when I recall how he held me in the car. It might be the first time he’s touched me, if you don’t count the Christmas we got drunk and wrestled over an eggnog disagreement.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, and he shrugs. “I need to check your stitches today.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t argue. He just drinks his coffee. “Are we having this meeting or not?”
“Meeting?” I ask.
Zayden nods. “We need to figure out our next steps.”
Next steps. God. Where do we even start? My instinct is to call the police, but it definitely isn’t that simple.
“Am I involved in this meeting?”
The brothers look at me, and Yale’s arm tightens a little around my waist.
