Page 56 of To The Final End
“It was amusing.”
“Youlaughed. Stellan laughed. Someone mark the calendar.”
“I laugh.”
“You make sounds that technically qualify as laughter. That was different.” Jace is grinning now, delighted. “That was a real laugh. I’m counting that as a win.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition. I’m winning.”
Stellan rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. And when Jace leans over to gather his scattered cards, Stellan’s hand brushes his shoulder. Casual. Brief. The kind of touch that could be accidental if you weren’t paying attention.
Jace goes still for just a second. Then keeps moving, keeps talking, but there’s a flush creeping up the back of his neck.
Yeah. There’s definitely something there.
Things start overlapping.
That’s the only way to describe it—the room stops being separate conversations and starts being one continuous thing. Rhett moves to the floor near the fireplace, and Jace immediately lays down next to him, complaining about card-tower sabotage. Gray pulls Wes upright and into a kiss that goes deep fast, and Wes makes a sound against his mouth that I feel in my own chest.
Theo rises from his chair.
The room notices. It’s subtle—a shift in attention, everyone tracking his movement without looking directly at him. Four years ago, Theo had to ask for attention. Had to earn the space to speak. Now he just takes it.
He crosses to the couch, and the crowd parts for him without being asked. Gray and Wes break their kiss but don’t separate, making room. Rhett shifts Jace’s weight. Seth’s arms tighten around me.
Theo stops in front of us. Looks down at me with those quiet, certain eyes.
“Come here,” he says.
It’s not a question. Not a request. Just a statement of what’s going to happen.
I go.
Theo takes me to the bedroom that branches off the main space.
Not to separate us—the door stays open, the sounds of the others filtering through. Just to have me for a minute. To focus without distraction.
“You’ve been stretched thin all day,” he says, pressing me back against the wall. “I could feel it.”
“Kids. Sanctuary stuff. The delegation from the Council.”
“I know.” His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “I’m not asking you to explain. I’m telling you to stop carrying it.”
“I’m fine—”
“Bree.” His voice is gentle but immovable. “Put it down.”
This is what Theo does now. Sees the weight I’m holding and tells me—doesn’t ask,tellsme—to let go of it. Four years ago, I would have argued. Would have insisted I could handle it, that I didn’t need help.
Now I just… exhale.
The tension drains out of my shoulders. He watches it go, nodding slowly, and then his mouth is on mine.
Theo kisses like he does everything else—patient and thorough and completely unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world to take me apart and every intention of doing exactly that. His thigh presses between my legs and I rock against it without thinking, chasing friction, already desperate for more.
“There it is,” he murmurs against my lips. “That’s what I wanted. Stop thinking.”
