Page 25 of The Bastard's Lily
“Whoa,” Beau breathes.
I let out a nervous laugh and rub his knee.
He turns back to me, then back to Rook. “Can I still call you Rook?”
Rook lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “If that’s what you want.”
Beau nods, thinking. Then: “Do Ihaveto eat broccoli now?”
I laugh for real that time, pressing my forehead to his shoulder.
Rook grins, eyes glinting. “We’ll negotiate that later.”
Beau yawns again and leans into my side. “Okay,” he mumbles. “But just so you know… I already like you. Even before I knew you were my dad.”
And goddamn it—this time, I do cry.
Theclubhousesmellslikebacon, strong coffee, and whatever the hell Wren is trying to pass off as toast. It’s loud, chaotic, and everything Beau should’ve grown up with. He’s still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when we walk into the dining room—him clinging to my hand like it’s second nature, me doing everything I can not to let my whole damn soul crack open.
“Morning, princess,” Wren shouts from across the room, nearly dropping his plate when he sees us. “Wait—hold up. Are you two—? No, shut the fuck up. Did you finally—"
“Wren.”
I cut him off with a look sharp enough to slice bacon. He shuts his mouth, grinning around a mouthful of food like the chaos gremlin he is. Calla shoots him a glare too, but Beau’s already yanking her toward the bench at one of the long tables, claiming the seat between us like he’s done it his whole life.
We sit. Plates appear. Coffee gets poured. The room buzzes around us, boots scuffing floors, cutlery clinking against chipped plates, voices overlapping like static. Chaos and comfort all at once. I’m halfway through a bite of sausage when Beau pipes up, loud and proud.
“Rook kissed my mama this morning.”
Forks freeze midair. Calla chokes on her coffee.
Wren slaps the table so hard the salt shaker topples. “You dog. You absolute fucking legend.”
Calla’s face isscarlet. She makes a strangled noise and practically dives into her coffee like it’s a damn life raft. I just smirk and take another bite of bacon. Wren howls. Actually howls.
Slaps the table again like he’s trying to beat it into submission. “No fuckingway. You kissedCalla Blake? This morning? Like,today? Right in front ofJesusandthe coffee maker?”
“She kissed me back,” I mutter around my food, casual as hell.
Calla glares at me so hard I’m shocked my eyebrows don’t catch fire.
Beau beams, clearly proud. “They were whisper-fighting, and then he justgrabbed her.”
I nearly choke on my eggs.
“Jesus Christ,” Calla mutters under her breath, face buried in her hands. “Can wenot?”
But it’s too late. The room’s gone full feral.
Ridge shakes his head, fighting a grin as he pours more coffee. “Well, damn. Thought it’d take you another month, Rook.”
Bear snorts. “We had a bet. I said two weeks. Wren owes me twenty.”
“You fuckingcheated,” Wren hisses. “You saw them yesterday after they stormed off. She was already looking at him like he invented orgasms.”
“Wren!” Calla whips her head toward him, scandalized.
“Relax, sunshine.” He grins. “We’re all adults here. Besides, weallknew it’d happen, eventually. It happened in the past… many times. Hell, most of us thought it alreadyhadlast night.”
