Page 23 of The Clinch
He sets a plate on the counter and nudges it toward me—eggs, toast, fruit. Exactly what I expected.
I pick up the fork and take a bite. Leo leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with a focus that makes my skin prickle.
I’m halfway through breakfast when the intercom buzzes.
Leo pushes off the counter and crosses to the panel. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Russo and Ms. Carver are here to see you.”
He glances back at me. The look is brief but deliberate, a silent check-in before he answers.
“Send them up.”
A knock follows a minute later. Leo opens the door. Nate wheels in my suitcase without ceremony. Eden follows, garment bag over one arm, grocery sack in the other.
“Morning.” Nate gives me a once-over before his attention slides to Leo. A grin flashes. “We brought oat milk. I know you’ve got enough protein in this place to fuel a training camp, but you drink your precious coffee black.”
Leo’s mouth twitches. He looks at the carton, then at me.
Nate sets the oat milk on the counter with exaggerated care. “Unsweetened. This is the brand they have at home.”
“Thanks,” I say, pouring a splash into my mug. “For this. For all of it.”
Eden’s expression softens. “We brought your things.”
She sets the garment bag on the sofa and lowers her voice. “Clothes, toiletries, the stuff from your bathroom. I grabbed what was on your dresser too, and the books you’ve been living in.”
Nate adds a stack of medical textbooks to the counter and rolls his shoulders, loose and amused. “Your backpack weighed a thousand pounds. Respectfully, this is a cry for help.”
I laugh, the sound slipping out before I can stop it.
The apartment changes with them here. Same walls, different gravity. Less quiet. More witnesses.
Leo gestures toward the stove. “You want eggs?”
Before I answer, Nate’s gaze flicks between us, amusement sharpening.
“Relax,” he says, easy as a jab. “I fed my girlfriend.”
Leo laughs under his breath. Then his eyes cut to Nate, something playful and sharp beneath the surface. “Are you two ever going to let it go?”
Maybe someday, they will. Leo putting up resistance when Nate and Eden first got together is still close enough to remember—the raised voices, the cracked restraint, the moment brotherhood turned physical before snapping back into place.
Nate’s grin widens. “We’re letting it go,” he announces. “We’re also bringing it up forever.”
Leo’s laugh follows, a low sound that hits my spine before it hits my ears.
Eden doesn’t engage. She reaches for me instead, fingers warm around my wrist, grounding.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s get you set up.”
As she leads me toward the hall, I feel Leo’s attention stay with me—calm, unfinished—but I don’t look back.
Inside the guest room, Eden closes the door behind us and exhales.
“Oh my God,” she says softly. “Are you okay?”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure what I am.”
