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He gestures around the room. “Happy.”

My jaw tightens.

“Don't.”

“Wasn't an insult.”

“I know.”

That's worse.

Beck leans against the counter. “She good?”

I know what he's asking.

Not whether Callie's funny.

Not whether she's good in bed.

Whether she's good for me.

“Yeah.” It's the easiest answer I've given all morning.

Beck nods once. “Good.”

And that's it. No fucking heart-to-heart. No lecture. No warning.

That's why Beckett and I have been friends as long as we have.

Then footsteps sound overhead. I look toward the stairs without thinking.

When I look back, Beck is watching me.

“Don't.”

He smiles.

“Didn't say anything.”

“I'm going to fucking kill you.”

45

CALLIE

I come downstairs wearing leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks to find Roman and Beck standing in the kitchen.

Perfect. Beck is still here. Which means I have questions I need answered.

Roman sees my face. “No.”

I stop on the bottom step. “I haven't said anything.”

“You don't have to.”

Beck glances between us. “Does this happen often?”

“Yes,” we say at the same time.