Page 48 of Bloom in Darkness

“Sweetheart, what the fuck is going on?” he asks. He slows before he gets too close, leaving enough space between us that I don’t feel cornered.

I press my back against the open door and point uselessly toward the kitchen. “The mug. I broke your favorite mug and you came out and I know you’re probably mad, but I’ll pay for it. I swear I will. I didn’t mean to break anything.”

“Astra.” Caelan’s voice goes softer instead of sharper. He takes another careful step and keeps his hands where I can see them. “We’re not taking your money. It’s a mug.”

I stare at him because that answer doesn’t make sense. “Your favorite mug.”

Caelan keeps his voice low when he answers. “A mug.”

“You use it every morning.” My fingers curl into the hem of Bryn’s shirt even though he isn’t close enough for me to touch yet.

Caelan doesn’t look toward the kitchen. “Then I’ll use another one tomorrow.”

My breath catches. I look past him toward Bryn waiting for one of them to tell me what this costs. Bryn isn’t looking toward the kitchen. He isn’t looking at Caelan either. He’s staring at my feet, and his jaw goes hard as his gaze fixes on the blood.

“You’re hurt,” Bryn says, his voice dropping an octave.

I look down and find a thin trail of blood beside my heel. “What?” I whisper, the sting arriving all at once now that I can see it.

I brace for Bryn to look toward the broken mug, but his eyes never leave my feet.

Bryn steps into my space more slowly this time, one hand settling at my waist before the other slides beneath my knees. “Bryn, I can walk,” I start, but he has already lifted me.

“No,” he says before I can finish. His hold stays careful despite the tension rolling through his body, one arm firm around my back while I let my head fall against his shoulder and stop arguing. Caelan disappears toward the utility closet as Bryn carries me inside, avoiding every place my bare feet might brush the floor before lowering me onto the edge of the sofa.

Caelan comes back with the first aid kit and crouches in front of me. “Let me see.”

I lift my foot without arguing. He settles my heel across his thigh and cleans the shallow cut with a wet wipe, checking carefully for ceramic before reaching for a bandage. My hands start shaking again while he works, worse now that there’s nothing left to run from. I tuck them beneath the hem of Bryn’s shirt and curl my fingers into the fabric, trying to keep the tremor hidden in the folds. Caelan’s hand stills around my ankle when he sees it. “Hey.”

I stare at the bandage instead of his face. “I really thought you were going to be angry.” The words embarrass me the second they’re out. I shrug and keep staring at the bandage.

“Because you dropped a mug?” Caelan asks.

“It was yours.” I rub my thumb over the edge of Bryn’s shirt. “I broke something that belonged to you.”

Caelan looks down at my foot again for a second, then runs his thumb once over the inside of my ankle. “I liked the mug.” My throat tightens before he adds, “I like you more.” My eyes burn again, and this time I can’t blame it on panic. I swallow hard and look away before either of them gets any ideas about acknowledging that.

Caelan tapes the bandage down and gives my ankle another gentle squeeze. “You and me are going to cuddle again while Bryn figures out breakfast.”

I sniff and finally risk looking at him. “Why do I feel like ‘figure out’ means ordering something?”

His mouth twitches. “You would be correct.” A low grunt comes from behind him, but Bryn doesn’t argue. He’s still watching me like I might somehow injure myself sitting perfectly still on a sofa.

Caelan helps me up and keeps a hand at my back while I cross the room. I make it three steps before the arrangement of the couch starts bothering me. One throw pillow is wedged beneath the armrest, another is on the floor, and the blanket we used last night is folded over the back instead of bunched into the corner where I remember leaving it. I pick up the first pillow and move it, then reach for the second. Neither one belongs where it is. Caelan stays behind me while I drag the blanket down and fold it into the corner. I pull another pillow across the seat without looking back. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Caelan says from behind me, and I can hear the smile in his voice while I pull another pillow across the seat.

“Your face did.” I reach for another pillow.

“I’m standing behind you.” Caelan stays exactly where he is.

“I can still hear it.” His quiet laugh follows me while I keep arranging the couch. The corner gets smaller and softer, enclosed on three sides, and the tight place beneath my ribs eases enough that I can breathe normally again.

I turn, catch Caelan by the hand, and pull him down with me. He lands against the cushions with a surprised laugh, and I climb into his lap before he has time to settle. I don’t ask if I’m allowed. I straddle him, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and bury my face against his neck,

“Comfortable?” Caelan asks, his arms sliding securely around my waist.

“Yes.” I press closer and breathe him in. “Don’t move.”