Page 357 of Ruthless Court
Book bag.
Waffle maker.
My three books have even been placed on the nightstand.
I stop.
That stupid warmth returns.
From the living room, Noah’s voice carries down the hallway.
“I love her.”
Eli answers.
“Same.”
“You can’t steal her.”
“I’m not stealing her. I’m appreciating.”
“She called him babe.”
“She also called him Snookums.”
Kane says something too low to hear.
Then Noah again.
“Seriously, though. She’s cool.”
A pause.
Eli’s voice is quieter.
“Don’t screw this up.”
I stop breathing.
Kane doesn’t joke.
“I know.”
Something about those two words hits harder than everything else.
I slip into the bathroom before anybody catches me listening.
By the time I brush my teeth and wipe off what little makeup survived the night, my confidence has dropped by approximately thirty percent.
Maybe forty.
This is real now.
His bedroom.
His bed.
One very large bed.
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