“No.” The word came out sharp, clipped. I forced my mouth into something that almost passed for a smirk. “He’s fine. He’s a warrior.”
Brody waggled his brows. “Big tough guy.”
I rolled the dice again, harder than necessary. It bounced and hit my beer bottle with a dull thunk.
“Twenty,” I said when it landed, not bothering to hide the satisfaction.
Austin’s face lit up like he’d just been handed Christmas. “Critical hit! Describe it.”
“Uh ...” I stared at the map, at the little creature mini. I didn’t want to describe it. I didn’t want to think about bodies and damage and pushing through pain.
But the table was waiting, so I did it anyway.
“My warrior doesn’t hesitate,” I said, keeping my voice even. “He takes the hit and keeps moving. Drives the blade straight through the thing before it can get away.”
Austin nodded solemnly, like this was sacred. “The creature collapses. The village is safe. For now.”
For a few minutes after that, it worked—the game. The stupid quest. The dice. The trash talk between friends who had known me before and after and didn’t ask me to explain myself.
It gave me a place to put my focus that wasn’t my body.
For a few hours, I could be a warrior again.
Even if it was only on paper.
We’d been at it long enough that the kitchen had shifted into that comfortable, lived-in chaos—empty bottles, scattered dice, chip dust ground into the grain of Brody’s table. Austin had paused to flip through his notes with the intensity of a man decoding ancient scripture while Cal stood to refresh his drink.
The lull should’ve been a relief. A breath between battles.
Instead, it turned into a target.
Cal dropped back into his chair and looked at me like he’d been holding the question in his mouth for twenty minutes. “So,” he said casually, like he wasn’t poking a bruise, “how’s it going with your new roommate?”
My stomach tightened.
Tiny sleep shorts.
Bare legs.
The shape of her in my kitchen like she belonged there.
The way my body had reacted to her like it hadn’t gotten the memo that I was supposed to be dead inside.
I clenched my jaw and forced the thoughts back into the same locked room I shoved everything else into.
“Fine,” I said, which was a lie by omission. Then I added, sharper, because that was easier: “She barged into my life the same way she barged into my house.”
Hayes’s gaze flicked up fast, but I ignored it.
“It’s temporary,” I continued, like saying it enough times might make it true. “She’s ... loud. And bossy. And thinks it’s funny to post house rules on my fridge.”
Brody leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking, and snorted. “That’s the Darling effect right there,” he said. “Those women are irresistible. They just ... get in your head.”
The table went dead quiet for half a beat.
Austin froze mid–page turn, eyebrow lifting slowly.
Cal’s stare slid between Brody and Hayes like he was watching a tennis match and didn’t know which side he’d bet on. His mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh.