Page 9 of Laundering Down the Legions
The set of his jaw said it for him, and it landed on something I'd only just started to understand. That was where I was supposed to be. Not hiding out here, but walking straight into the thing Kearan and I had been quietly building without either of us calling it what it was.
Both Ryker and Kearan wanted the other to go first.
Which meant I would have to be the one who made the decision.
Kearan. It would be Kearan I'd mate next.
I stayed a little longer, stretching the minute out in the gray half-light. Ryker didn't shove me off, didn't break whatever this was. I sat, easy and familiar, the air practically humming around us. Then, when staying got harder than going and my nerve came back, I gave him one last look.
"You know this grass is gonna ruin my jeans." I broke the quiet with a smile instead of anything grand, a dumb little joke tossed out like an olive branch. He cut me a sideways look, amusement flickering behind those sharp eyes. Whatever was between us went light, hovering right there at the surface.
He picked a blade of grass off his knee, all fake casual. "That's what they're for. They've got a whole life ahead of them. Jeans are just waiting to get dirty."
I laughed and flicked water at him like that might buy me a bigger smile. He rolled his eyes, playing along, and for one second it felt like getting back something I'd lost. Every little laugh chipped away at the fear I'd been carrying.
The rain kept washing over us while we went back and forth, elbows knocking, water beading up on the grass between us. It was harmless and it was good, and it felt like something to hold onto before whatever came next.
Eventually the playing wound down, each laugh trailing off into the sound of rain tapping the ground. Neither of us said it, but we both knew the world out past this patch of grass still existed. For now, we had this. Lying there with the damp grass curling against my skin, I felt the quiet swell back up between us, that low hum of being aware of each other.
Something had set between Ryker and me, some balance that mattered. He wasn't trying to rush me anywhere. He just kept nudging my focus toward that light, toward the warmth coming off the kitchen, toward the bonds that needed building instead of breaking.
When the quiet stretched long enough, I looked back at him, lying there steady and warm enough to make everything else feel like background noise. "Guess it's time I head back." The reluctance came through whether I wanted it to or not. The words landed heavier than I meant them to.
Ryker met my eyes and gave me a small nod that said plenty. Encouragement, no shove behind it, just steady. Go on.
I didn't move right away. I wanted to keep the little bit of calm sitting between us a few seconds longer.
He stayed put beside me, the tension bleeding out of his frame while I worked up the nerve to stand. The air hung heavy with all the stuff we hadn't said, and underneath it sat something almost like anticipation. Maybe he was coming around after all.
And when I turned for the compound, glancing back one more time at Ryker still sprawled in the wet grass, the space between us didn't feel like a gap. It felt like a line that would hold, no matter what was brewing.
I went inside, rain-damp and steadier than I'd left. Ryker stayed out there, back to a raccoon shape in the grass.
CHAPTER 6
Isat at the kitchen table, pretending a random scratch in the wood was the most interesting thing in the room, while my heart ran a marathon. Kearan was at the stove again, moving with that quiet precision that made hard look easy, and the only thought in my head was how badly I wanted to be standing where he was standing. Eggs and something sweet drifted off the pan, and my stomach growled in protest of my own stubbornness. This wasn't about being hungry, though. It was about being close. I was still stuck on whether to walk over or wait for him to turn around first.
Kearan was my fifth mate, and even though I'd done this four times before, I was still insanely nervous.
Rhiot came barreling through the doorway and grabbed a granola bar off the counter without breaking stride, like it was part of his morning workout. He stopped just long enough to flash me a grin that lit up his whole face despite the dark circles under his eyes. I wondered if he even noticed how different the air felt since the last time we'd all sat around this table.
Grayson came next, drifting in with his coffee mug and pouring with careful efficiency. He caught my eye for a second, something passing between us. He didn't even need topsychically tell me it was time to make the move with Kearan. It was obvious and all over his face. He dipped his chin, and the message landed clear enough. Hurry up, everything will be fine.
Seph was working her phone, half-living in whatever drama was on the screen and half here with us. Her fingers tapped the table while her eyes flicked back and forth.
Kearan stayed locked in, cooking whatever was in the pan. I let myself look a beat longer than I should have. His broad shoulders shifted under his shirt as he moved.
Then the moment passed, and the knot in my stomach stayed knotted. I picked at my sleeve, weighing it. Did I walk over and barge in to get his attention, or sit here and wait for him to come to me?
Rhiot laughed at something Grayson threw out, the easy rhythm of the two of them filling the room. Their chatter bounced around the kitchen while I sat separate from all of them.
Finally, I pulled in a breath and crossed to the counter where Kearan stood. My heart kicked up the closer I got. I opened my mouth to start something, and the words slid right out of reach.
I stalled, staring at the simmering pot like it was the most fascinating thing I'd ever laid eyes on. "So what's cooking, good-looking?" My voice came out a little steadier than the mess going on in my head. Barely.
Then I realized what I'd said and almost died. What a cringy thing to say. Where had that even come from? I'd never said anything like that before.
Rhiot chuckled before I heard a thwack, then he grunted. The urge to shrivel up into non-existence slammed into me.
