Page 152 of Unbound
I nod. “Don’t eat anything. I’m serious, not until I get Paloma from upstairs.”
Stepping past where Rhys is making two lattes and taking his time with the artwork, I head up the stairs—only to see she’s already on her way to me, dressed from head to toe in my clothes.
“Hungry, P?” I ask, taking her face in my palms. She nods, biting down on her lip. I want to ask her a thousand questions, but she still looks exhausted from last night. It doesn’t help that my own emotions feel a little shot—all over the place all at once.
“Yeah, I think I could eat.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to her temple and bring her closer under my arm. “We’re having family breakfast.”
There’s a brighter look then in her eyes, a twinkling of excitement and hesitant wonder.
“Really?”
I think I’m only just now understanding the depth of Paloma’s loneliness. That it’s more than how she’s been at Waterfell, strangely isolated despite her popularity and well-known name. Her kind of loneliness goes further back. It makes a well of regret start to form, and how much I wished she’d been here at our table for breakfasts all along. Even as a friend—somehow included.
Wrong. I’ve gotten it wrong too many times. I’m determined now to never let her suffer again.
Once she’s settled at the table, Freddy and Sadie already bickering to provide the entertainment, the doorbell rings. I hold a hand up to Rhys and offer to get it—nearly sure that Adam Reiner is about to make an unexpected appearance, if his frantic texts are anything to go off.
“It’s weird. If she wanted me here, she would’ve asked.”
The voices are muffled, but I can hear the girl clearly because she’s slightly loud. I look through the peephole to see Toren and Lily side by side, arms crossed as they stare at each other.
“She wants you here,” Toren says back quietly, his voice soft and unconcerned in sharp contrast to the almost-frantic, too-loud tone of his companion.
“You don’t know that! You don’t have friends, Tor. You don’t know—”
I pull open the door, greeted by the ridiculous picture the two of them make: my defenseman towering in his black slacks and black button-up from the night before, sleeves rolled up, tattoos on display covering almost every inch of exposed skin. And next to him, a redhead barely half his size in brown boots, stockings, a pleated skirt, and turtleneck sweater.
“Toren.” I nod to him. “Lily.”
“Hi, Bennett,” she whispers, suddenly shy as she ducks her head to stare down at my shoes.
“Lily wanted to check on Paloma after she didn’t come home last night,” Toren offers, a hand slipping to her back and pushing her a stumbling step forward. “I figured I could drop her here and I can pick her up later, or Paloma can take her back.”
I nod, stepping to the side to let her in.
“Paloma is in the kitchen and would love to see you.”
You might be the only friend she’s ever really had. The only one she’s made on her own.
Lily scurries off toward the kitchen, arguably too fast. Toren watches her go with a softer look on his face than I’ve ever seen—something almost serene.
“You should stay,” I say, clearing my throat and gripping the doorframe. “Have breakfast with all of us.”
“No.” He smirks, but there’s nothing happy in it. “You don’t have to be nice to me, Reiner. It’s fine.”
My brow furrows. “Come inside. Eat with us. You’re a part of the team.”
A huff of a laugh blows from his lips and he shakes his head. “Right.”
“You are,” I say, more intense than the first time. My voice drops as I add, “And you look out for Paloma. You always have. I owe you for that at the very least.”
He doesn’t say anything, eyes down toward the dewy morning grass and damp concrete. He looks . . . young, and almost lost. Is this how I looked all those years ago? Is this what I’d be without Rhys? Lonely and lost and rejected by everyone who doesn’t understand me?
Lily is a lot like me, I think, and Toren sticks close to her. Takes care of her.
There is a part of me that believes Toren is like Paloma, a bleeding heart and full up with love he doesn’t know what to do with.
