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Wheeler paced, his knuckles white around the dark bottle. “No, no, no…”

Aaron leaned forward again and grabbed them both, Kristi by the waistband of her pants and Wheeler by the belt, and hauled them back beside him on the couch. “Sit. Down.”

They sat.

Riley glanced at Saint on his throne. “You’re both bossy.”

“Correct.”

Aaron glanced at her before turning back to the TV.

He was unsettling.

Saint moved to the second couch, perpendicular to the first, and rested his feet on the coffee table. Riley joined him. His arm was wrapped around her waist, thumb skimming the skin on her hip where her t-shirt had ridden up. She sank back, watching Kristi, tangled with his friends on the couch. Aaron finally seemed to relax, arm resting behind Kristi.

She looked happy, teeth flashing as she snapped at Wheeler’s waggling fingers—playing. Aaron smiled fully as she jostled him, and Kristi beamed back, light and carefree.

“She hasn’t been like this in a long time—relaxed, happy,” Riley murmured, and Saint leaned in to listen. Whisky and cedar filled her lungs. “I’m glad she likes them. She needs more people.”

Saint’s eyes roved over the three on the other couch, and the feather-light touch on her hip didn’t stop.

“And you?” he rumbled, and it took her a moment to answer. He pulled her onto his lap so that he could hear her murmured reply.

“I don’t need more people, no.”

He shook his head. “Not that. Are you relaxed? Happy?”

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Like, existentially?” The word slurred a bit, and she felt his cheek twitch under hers, stubble grazing her chin.

“Sure,” he said, and a laugh bubbled up from deep in her chest. She stayed like that for a long moment, watching Kristi play Wheeler’s silly games, getting a smile out of Aaron every now and then. The beer was making everything feel soft and close and momentous. Kristi relaxing and trusting new people, even hot ones, felt special. Like Riley’d done the right thing in bringing her here. But was that happiness?

Say yes. Laugh a bit. Don’t be a buzzkill.

“Sometimes,” Riley answered, more honestly than she'd meant to.

Saint stilled, hands tightening almost imperceptibly where he held her. A single tear tracked down her cheek—the tiny drip of cold was a complete surprise. She swiped it away, rubbing the drop on her jeans. “Sorry, it’s just the beer,” she muttered, tension flickering along her spine.

Saint tugged her into his chest, running his hand up and down her back until she relaxed into him. She sank her teeth into her inner cheek until the sting in her eyes receded and then took another sip of beer to wash away the salt.

Kristi twisted on the couch and caught Riley’s eye. Something that could only be described as aggression flickered over her face as her eyes flicked to Saint and back.

Is it Biker Boy? I’ll kill him.

Riley shook her head and mouthed, I’m fine. Don’t worry.

Kristi gave her a hard look before having to defend herself from Wheeler. She swatted him away with a laughed shriek, relaxing again under Aaron’s arm. Aaron’s eyes held a warm indulgence, a flicker in deep space. Kristi looked up at him, a smile softening her face.

“She’s important to you,” Saint said quietly. He still held Riley close and warm, like he was just making conversation. She jerked up to look at him, eyes flicking back and forth between his.

“Of course. She’s my best friend.” She straightened. People always thought something was going on with them, but they were best friends. Just friends.

Laughter flooded the background, louder than the announcer on the TV.

“Just that?” he asked, arms loosening where he held her.

What do you want me to say? It felt like Riley’s lungs had collapsed, just like when she’d been winded falling off a dirt bike after a jump. Her mind swam through every argument with Andrew, never about Kristi, but always about Kristi.

Andrew was jealous of the time Riley spent with Kristi, of how close they were. Kristi had said he was just insecure. Wanted her all to himself.