“I know.” I exhale. “But I have to at least talk to them.” The problem with centuries of silence is that closure starts to sound like obligation.
Levi nods, squeezing my arm. “Say the word if you need backup. Emotional support, coffee runs, forced group hugs…aggressive wholesomeness is my specialty.”
A laugh fills my chest. “Noted.”
“Or, I can call for reinforcements. YouknowDominic and Elijah would have a field day with this.”
“Please no.”
He laughs, pressing a kiss to my cheek, lingering long enough for my pulse to slow, for my chest to loosen just a fraction.
And then I leave.
When I arrive at the funeral home, Zane and Porter are already in the lobby. Irene takes one look at the brewing brotherly chaos, nods,Good luck, don’t destroy my lobby, and disappears.
Porter leans against the counter, arms crossed. “Nice place,” he says, surveying. “Depressing, but…it suits you.”
Zane, on the other hand, doesn’t survey a damn thing except me. He grins. Wide, brilliant, too charming for his own good. “There’s my baby brother,” he booms, clapping a hand on my shoulder with such casual cheer it’s impressive. Like we’re not estranged gods who haven’t managed a civil word since humans thought sails were peak innovation.
I stiffen under his touch. “We are the same age.”
He winks. “Doesn’t feel that way, does it?”
I roll my eyes.
Zane and Porter could not be more different.
Zane is sunlight in perpetual motion. Golden hair, golden grin, golden ego…people orbit him without meaning to.
Porter’s the opposite: a riptide. Quieter, deliberate, a current you only notice when it’s already pulled you under.
And me? I’ve never been either.
Which makes this feel like standing between the sun and the sea, drowning in both.
Zane gestures vaguely at me, tilting his head like he’s studying something new. “So, that ray of brightness from this morning…with the book. What’s his story?”
“Levi,” I say, shifting my weight to my back leg. “He’s a florist and he’s…”
“Adorable,” Zane says, finishing my sentence.
Porter makes a noise of agreement. “Looks like trouble, though.”
I scoff. “You have no idea.”
Zane smirks. “I like him already.”
Porter, ever the one to cut straight to the point, watches me closely. “And how much does this adorable Levi know?”
I hesitate a beat. “He knows.”
Zane’s brows shoot up, his surprise immediate. “Everything?”
“Enough,” I reply, intentionally vague. “Everything” feels like giving away too much of us, and “not enough” feels like admitting I’ve kept him in the dark.
Porter lets out a low whistle, exchanging a look with Zane. “That’s a careful way of putting things…but damn, it’s about time.”
“So, you finally let someone in?” Zane hops up on the counter, his long legs nearly touching the ground. “Honestly, Hayden…that’s huge. Proud of you,” he says, pausing awkwardly to clear his throat. “Even if it took centuries.”
