Page 129 of Beautiful Ruins
“Am I?”Tone shot back dryly.“Because from where I was standing, it sounded like someone was either being murdered or very enthusiastically not being murdered.”
Izzy groaned.
I pushed off the doorway and walked toward her, sliding a hand around her waist.“If you’re going to eavesdrop?—”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Tone cut in.“I wasdying.”
She moved past us and grabbed a mug from the cabinet.“For the record, I’m thrilled for you.Truly.Just… consider wall padding… or something.”
Izzy was still blushing, but I could feel her laughter building beneath it.
Tone caught my eye then.And for a split second, the humor faded into something softer.She was happy for me.Genuinely.She’d watched me lose everything once.She’d watched me harden.She’d watched me choose war over peace more times than she could count.And now she was watching me stand in a kitchen with a woman wearing my shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“When do we go home?”she questioned casually, sipping her coffee.
The words felt heavier than they should have.
Home.
Not this house.The other one.The real one.The one that no longer felt like a battleground.
“After breakfast.”
Tone nodded, satisfied.“Good.I’m ready.”
Izzy plated the food and set it down at the table.I pulled out her chair before sitting beside her.
The three of us ate like normal people.It felt strange.
“Well,” Tone stretched the word like it personally offended her, “I suppose this means we’re back to normal.”
I glanced at her.There was a faint crease between her brows — not fear, not even frustration.Reluctance.
Tone without a crisis was like a race car stuck in a school zone.She didn’t idle well.She thrived on urgency.On chaos.On being the calmest person in the room while everything else burned.
Now the fire was out.And she didn’t quite know where to put her hands.
“We’re not exactly in crisis mode anymore,” she added, as if the idea required mourning.
I almost smiled.Tone was dramatic in a way that would’ve been exhausting if it weren’t so predictable.
“You say that like it’s a tragedy, Tone.”
She shrugged one shoulder.“I just got used to having a purpose.”
“You have a purpose,” I told her.“You’re just not stitching gunshot wounds in a hallway at three in the morning anymore.”
She considered that.
“Hm,” she said thoughtfully.“I do look good under pressure.”
“That wasn’t a compliment,” I muttered.
“It absolutely was.”
Izzy snorted softly beside her.
Tone crossed her arms.“I’m just saying.It’s very quiet.”
