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He takes my face in his hands. Nobody has ever done that, and it blocks the world out in the gentlest way. I drag my eyes up to his and fall into his soft, dark gaze.

“Hey, let it go,” he says. “They’ll figure it out. Jamie is a good guy.”

I blink, swallowing.

“Deep breath in, deep breath out,” he says.

A little embarrassed, I obey. He gives me a forehead kiss that makes my knees weak and then lets me go. The sudden rush of anxiety eases but doesn’t go away. Maybe after we lay down, we can talk about it more. But he’s right. Now isn’t the time to fly off the handle about anyone.

“You fucked me right after I showed up,” he says.

“When did it happen?”

“For them? Jamie says the first night.”

“Oh, God,” I say. “With everyone in the house?”

Coen laughs. “Says the girl who got fucked in the guest room with the AG group meeting downstairs.”

He has a point. The door creaks open, and Jamie comes in, boots loud on the floor. Coen gives me a stern look, and I jerk my chin. I get it. I can stop worrying for a minute and step back. Not everything has to be fixed right away.

And for the first time, I don’t have to be the one to fix it.

“Alright,” I say. “How does everyone feel about spaghetti?”

Jamie shrugs, hands on his hips. “I could do that.”

I grab an apron from the drawer and start tying it on. Coen takes the ties and does it for me. “Do you want to show Jamie to the guesthouse?” I say.

He kisses the side of my neck, pausing to murmur, “Sure, but a couple doors aren’t gonna do a thing. Didn’t for us.”

He’s right, of course, but I feel better about putting Jamie out there instead of in the guestroom. Two doors down from my little sister’s bedroom. I busy myself with filling a pot with water while the two men leave out the front to get their luggage from the truck. I’m not spiraling. Usually, when something like this happens, I spiral silently. Colin, the last one, didn’t bother me because it was nothing. We both knew that. But the one before that, the one Dad got in a fight with, gave me a stomach ulcer.

Jamie better fucking behave.

Serena comes downstairs again. I give her a long look, considering asking her and hearing her side. The temptation is strong. She sinks down on a stool and leans her chin on her hand. Into my head comes what Coen just said. Now that we’re together officially, he pushes back more. I need it, being called out sometimes.

I take out an onion and a few peppers and start finely chopping.

“You okay with Jamie and Coen being here?” I ask.

She shrugs. “You know I like Coen.”

Chop, chop, chop. I let her bite her cheek and frown for a bit.

“Jamie’s fine. Kind of annoying, but nothing I can’t handle,” she says. “I’m happy for you about Coen. He makes you a lot different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah, a lot more like this.” She sits up, takes a deep breath, and lets it out, dropping her shoulders. “Instead of all balled up.”

My hands go still. “Was I that stressed out?”

“You were pretty stressed.”

The front door opens, and Coen comes back, this time sans Jamie. He probably sent him around the side to the guesthouse to avoid any more drama. Warmth stirs, sparking higher as he puts a hand on my waist.

“Sure you don’t want me to help?” he says.