Page 96 of Twisted Violet
Rome’s still on the floor, his head tipped back against the couch, with his eyes closed and one hand resting near the hem of the comforter.
Ezra’s sleeping on the other side of the coffee table. Dallas is curled on the floor with Ollie half-draped over his legs. Niko is posted against the wall, observing everything. Atlas and Cyrus are knocked out in the armchairs. And Tristan is at the kitchen table tapping on his phone silently.
No one left.
Not when I broke, not when I stopped speaking, not even when I couldn’t look at them.
They all stayed.
I blink hard, staring at the seams of the blanket between my fingers.
This is the weakest I’ve ever been.
The most exposed, the most humiliated, the mosthonest,and it’s also the most love I’ve ever felt.
Not just fromStevie and The Reapers. But fromthem. The men I swore were just doing a job. The ones I told myself didn’t actually care.
Rome didn’t have to kneel beside me and cover me in warmth like I was something precious. But he did.
Dallas didn’t have to sit on the floor like my pain had knocked him over too. But he did.
And Niko didn’t have to stay with me when he’s never been the kind to sit still. But he did.
My throat tightens.
If this is what love looks like, quiet and steady and unexpected andreal, then maybe I’ve been wrong about what I deserve all along.
Maybe I’m not a burden.
Maybe I’m just… loved.
I awake again sometime laterfrom noise in the kitchen.
I hear a low curse, the clang of a pan, and something sizzling a little too loud to be intentional.
I sit up slightly, careful not to jostle Stevie, and peek over the back of the couch.
Dallas is standing in front of the stove with a spatula in one hand and a dish towel in the other, looking like he’s preparing for war.
His hair is a mess, his T-shirt is wrinkled, and his eyes are still puffy from sleep. But, he’s trying and it’s endearing as hell.
He tosses something in the pan and immediately recoils when smoke billows upward.
I watch him fan it with the towel like that’ll help, muttering under his breath.
Rome walks past the hallway and pauses, blinking once at the chaos before continuing on like this is par for the course.
The corner of my mouth lifts.
Dallas flips what looks to be a very sad attempt at a pancake and glares at the pan like it betrayed him.
“I can help,” I say, my voice hoarse.
Everyone looks up.
Dallas turns, blinking like he’s not sure he heard me right. “You… want to?”
“I think I need to,” I murmur, pushing the blanket off of my legs. “Before you burn the whole place down.”
