The next five minutes are nothing but flailing limbs, flying pillows, and Haven shrieking in laughter between curses as Carter tries to pin her down and I pretend not to enjoy watching them both fall apart on her mattress.
Eventually, we collapse. Carter’s on one side, flushed and trying to talk her into stealing the covers. Haven’s in the middle, half under me, her legs tangled with mine, her cheek against my chest. I’m tense, still wound tight but when she presses a soft kiss to my jaw and mumbles, “Stay tonight.”
Everything in me caves. “Fine.” She grins into my skin.
“You’re gonna make a habit of this aren’t you.” I sigh.
“Maybe,” she whispers.
Carter mumbles something unintelligible and curls into her back. I trace one finger along the edge of her blanket, the worn cotton catching on a callus near my thumb. It’s nothing, but fuck it’s everything. She stirs slightly, finally drifting to sleep.
I don’t sleep for a while. I just listen, and try to believe this is still real. Her breathing evens out first, then Carter’s. Mine’s the last to settle. Peace is new, fragile. I don’t trust it completely but her fingers twitch against my stomach like she’s dreaming something good. So I stay, just in case it’s me she’s dreaming about.
Her leg shifts in sleep, brushing against mine, and I feel it like a shock straight to the chest, it makes something I’ve always felt was ugly claw at my ribs. Need. It’s a simple thing. The press of her thigh, the god damn heat of her breath.
I used to think I didn’t need much. A decent chair. A good rig. Silence. That was before she started falling asleep with her face tucked into my neck like I’m not made of blades, before she started saying my name like it’s safe in her mouth. It’s ridiculous, almost humiliating how much I need this.
I stare at the ceiling and tell myself not to move. Not to chase the one good thing I didn’t earn. Her hand shifts under the blanket, searching for something again. It finds my wrist, and holds. Just two fingers curled lightly around my pulse. I stop breathing. She’s not even awake but she still reached for me. I turn my face into the pillow.
This fucking girl. I’m not angry, but I’ve never wanted to be touched this gently in my life and now I think I’d burn the whole fucking world down to keep it.
17
Haven
Cassie’s arms are around me before I fully open the door and I can’t help but break. Not full-on crying but the kind of slow that starts in the chest and leaks into your limbs. Every wall I’ve kept up for the last week is finally ready to fall, and I don’t have the energy to hold them anymore.
She just squeezes me tighter. “You okay?” she asks softly, even though we both know the answer is no.
I shake my head.
The guys are half awake, sprawled across my couch. Tate had woken up around five this morning and retreated to the couch. Carter and I woke up around seven and joined him, but I texted Cassie before I went to sleep last night. I needed her, I neededthis.
Carter glances up when he sees us hugging, his brows twitching like he wants to ask if I’m alright. Tate doesn’t sayanything, but his gaze flickers to mine before shifting away again. They both stand up after a few moments.
“We’ll give you space,” Carter says gently, grabbing his hoodie. “Go walk around or something.”
Tate snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go bond at a flower shop.”
Cassie raises a brow as the door closes behind them. “Was that… a joke?”
I shrug. “He’s adapting.”
Cassie doesn’t let go right away, her hand stays on my back, rubbing slow circles trying to anchor me, even after the worst of the collapse has passed. I pull in a shaky breath, she catches it with a low hum, the kind when she knows I’m not saying everything out loud.
“Wanna sit?” she asks gently.
I nod, brushing my sleeve over my face. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
Cassie doesn’t rush me, she never has. I slip into the bathroom for a minute and splash cold water on my face. My reflection’s a mess but I look more like myself than I have in days.
When I come out, Cassie’s in the living room sipping from a cup I forgot I even owned. She’s watching Carter and Tate, who are both still getting their shoes on in the hallway. She lifts a brow at them.
I dryly laugh. “They’re the worst.”
“Terrified boyfriends are kind of adorable, though,” she says. “Especially when they try to act cool and fail.”
I roll my eyes and walk to the kitchen. Cassie follows, perching on one of the bar stools. She opens the cupboard next to her and tosses me a granola bar.