Page 37 of Princess of Thieves

It’s so strange to see him stammer and be at a loss for words.

“Maren,” Tuck says, emerging from the pantry holding half a loaf of sourdough bread. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower, and he’s wearing an old, faded T-shirt with Virginia Beach written across the chest. When he sees me, his expression brightens, even though it looks like he might burst into tears or something. “You’re back. You’re here. You’re...” He looks from Will to LJ, who’s still holding my hand, and then back to Will again. “I’m so sorry, Maren,” Tuck stammers on. “We’re sorry. This never should have... but you’re okay?”

I nod and tighten my grip around LJ’s hand a little as I look around the kitchen. Someone is distinctly missing from this tableau.

“Not here,” Will says, taking a drag from his coffee cup. “Don’t know where he is right now.”

“I see.” I bite my lip. “I... well, thank you,” I say lamely. “Both of you, for the apologies. It’s, um...” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “It’s kind of been a weird few weeks.”

“If either of you fuckers tries to pull anything—” LJ starts.

I squeeze his hand harder. “Relax,” I say softly, looking up at him. “I’ve got this.”

He works his jaw like he doesn’t believe me, but he stops.

“Look, I’m really hungry,” I say. “Starving, in fact, and I kind of just want to get something in my stomach before I deal with...” I wave my hand in the air. “Anything.”

“Understandable,” Will nods.

Tuck, for his part, beams. “You got it. What do you want? Waffles? Eggs Benedict? Shrimp and grits? I could probably do steak and eggs if you give me a second to grab that ribeye—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, unable to resist smiling at his puppy-dog energy. “I’m just one girl, and I need coffee before anything.”

Of course, Tuck lunges for the counter, but Will is two steps ahead of him at the espresso machine.

“I’ve got it,” Will says, flicking a dial.

Tuck jumps back, looking jittery and shooting me half-glances every other second. “All right, why don’t we just do the works? Bacon, sausage, eggs?”

“Yes,” I say. “Perfect.”

“Great.” Tuck grins, nodding and rubs his hands together like he’s relieved. “What about you, big guy?” he asks, looking at LJ.

LJ grunts. “Make it a round, I guess.”

“Sure thing.” Tuck sets off to pull out pots and pans while Will sidles over with a steaming mug of espresso for me.

“Americano, right? Black.”

I nod. “Exactly.”

I let go of LJ’s hand, take the cup from Will, and have a sip. It’s good. Toe-curlingly good. I let out an involuntary groan.

“You need some alone time with it?” Will asks.

I make a face at him, realizing too late that I’m letting myself fall back into old patterns—banter, ease, camaraderie with someone who tried to keep me locked up, who lied to me.

Well, one of several people, anyway.

“Come here,” Will says, nodding toward the table, his hands in the pockets of his chino shorts. “Take a load off.”

Can’t hurt, I figure. So, fortified with another sip of coffee, I follow him to the table and sit down.

LJ, meanwhile, stays by the door, arms folded, looking like a bouncer at a club.

“You wanna?” Will says, nodding at the third empty chair, but LJ shakes his head.

“I’m good.”

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