Page 77 of Built to Fall
God help me.
As the door swings partway shut behind them, I hear Lina groan and flop back onto the bed like she’s trying to disappear into it.
I drag a hand through my hair and turn to face her. She’s staring at the ceiling again, pillow half covering her face.
“You okay?” I ask, trying not to laugh.
She peeks at me from under the pillow, her voice muffled. “I usually don’t get embarrassed, but your family walking in on me in your bed, assuming I had sex with you, is pretty damn awkward.”
I walk back over and tug the pillow away, grinning. “Could’ve been worse.”
“How?” Her face can’t hide how annoyed she is.
“You could’ve been snoring, or drooling, or naked.”
Lina groans again and shoves my shoulder. “In your dreams, Vandenberg.”
Catching her hand before she can retreat, I press a quick kiss to her knuckles without thinking. “I’ll protect you.”
The words slip out too easily, too real, and for a second, she looks at me—eyes wide, defenses slipping—and all I can think is,what the fuck did I do?
That type of stunt, kissing her lightly, subtle sweet-talk, isn’t what I usually do. The fact that I feel the need to comfort Lina to this extent causes a tinge of fear to rush through me.
I didn’t even think about how she’d possibly take it, and Irefuseto think about why it felt practically instinctual.
Lina freezes, looking confused by the action too. “Careful,” she teases, pulling her hand away. “You’re teetering a little far from friends, don’t you think?”
“Yeah… it seemed more friendly in my head.”
“It’s fine.” She grabs her hoodie off the floor, pulling it over her head. “Let’s get this breakfast over with.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LINA
Beyond the small taste I got in Grant’s bedroom, I’m not entirely sure what to expect when we go downstairs.
Waking up next to Grant, our limbs half-intertwined with his bare chest on display, had me flustered enough as it is. Meeting his family is a whole other level.
We’re greeted by the smell of brewing coffee and pancakes cooking, while the murmur of one of Grant’s sisters arguing with the Alexa over its music choice echoes in the background.
Abby spots me when I enter the kitchen and lights up. “Look who survived the ambush!”
Grant groans. “Why would you want to scare her offnowwhen you’ve only just tricked her into staying?”
I smile in spite of myself and head toward the coffee pot, trying not to overthink the heat still lingering from the moment upstairs.
“We’re not that scary,” she says, squeezing me. “Just loud.”
“And nosy,” Claire adds, flipping another pancake.
“And inappropriate,” Grant mutters, taking a seat at one of the island’s barstools.
Following suit, I plop down next to him once I’ve filled my mug. Abby begins passing out plates, and when I finally glanceup, Mr. Vandenberg is giving me a look—one that’s less ‘who the hell are you?’But more ‘are you okay, kid?’
It disarms me a little.
“I’m Abby, by the way,” Abby chirps unnecessarily, “and this is Claire. In case we scarred you too badly upstairs for you to remember.”
