Ryder recognized this moment, this tug of something deeper than simple attraction and affection forming. It had happened with Ash a long time ago, way before they were old enough for it.
Sure, Ash had adopted Ryder the second he’d swooped in and stopped Ryder from getting beat to shit by some bullies in grade school. But the love had come later.
Ryder had been over at the Tellers’ house at the time. Everything had been its usual chaos, kids of every age scattered around, and when they’d had a moment alone, Ryder had asked Ash if he liked having so many siblings.
It had kind of seemed like a dream come true for Ryder, who was used to a too-quiet house with his too-quiet, distant alpha dad, a veteran and widower with too much trauma and not enough interest in his only son.
Ash had shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not good like Noah or Reese. And I’m not bad enough to be noticed. Of course I’m gonna get ignored.”
But the set of his jaw had told a different story, a vulnerability he hadn’t let Ryder see before then.
“Well, you beat up those assholes for me,” Ryder had said. “I’d say you’re bad enough.”
Ash had grinned at him, all sharp and vicious despite his glassy eyes, and Ryder had been gone, just like that. Sometimes broken pieces fit.
And here it was, happening again. It wasn’t like it was some revelation that Spencer Philips might have some mommy issues. But there was a sweetness to his sorrow that was impossibleto resist. For all that he had a loud mouth, and he wanted something from someone all the goddamn time, he really asked for so little.
Ryder looked at the beds again. He and Ash shared a lot of the time, but that was already pushing the limit of their piece-of-shit full-size mattresses. They needed to remedy that, probably, but for now …
Ryder went over to Ash’s bed and tore off the covers, hefting the mattress up and off the frame.
Spence blinked at him. “What’re you …?”
Ryder dropped the mattress on the floor, then went to get his own. He plopped it next to the other and shoved them together. Then he grabbed the two pairs of sheets and blankets and arranged them in something relatively decent.
Ash appeared at the bedroom door with a glass of water and a piece of thoroughly buttered toast. “Rearranging?”
Ryder shrugged. “Pretty boy doesn’t like to sleep alone.”
For once, Ash didn’t prod, despite the fact that Ryder had basically built them a nest on the floor. Maybe Ash had gotten his fill in the car, or maybe he was as exhausted as Spencer looked. “He gets the middle, then. I don’t like being overheated.” Ash shoved the water and toast toward Spencer. “Finish it all. No hurling tomorrow.”
Spencer gave him a bleary, beaming smile. “You guys are so nice.”
Yeah. Broken pieces for sure.
After Spencer had finished Ash’s offerings—swaying in place and refusing to sit down all the while—Ryder steered him to the bathroom. He handed Spencer a toothbrush still in its package that Ryder and Ash had possibly picked up the last time they’d run errands. Spencer didn’t comment on it, only opened the package and obediently brushed his teeth alongside Ryder, splashing water on his face when he was done. Then Spencertore off his shirt and pants in the middle of the bathroom and stumbled back down the hall in his underwear. He made it to their floor bed without issue, plopping down right in the middle in a ridiculous sprawl.
Ryder knelt on the bed and tugged the blankets out from underneath Spencer, ignoring his incomprehensible grumbling. Ryder managed to get the coversoverthe doofus, then stripped down to his own boxers. Ash did the same, curling up on the edge of the makeshift bed, facing away from both of them. No surprise there. Ash tended to run hot, even when he wasn’t perpetually on the edge of heat.
Ryder hesitated for only a moment, then lay down on Spencer’s other side, throwing an arm and a leg over the other alpha, who gave the most ridiculous, happy sigh in return.
Jesus. Someone who fucked so often shouldn’t have been this touch-starved.
Ryder guessed he could relate. It felt good to hold someone without sex on the table, especially someone so warm and sleepy and pliant. Ash was only a cuddler in his best moods, and Ryder had never minded giving him the space he needed, but … still.
Maybe Ryder had never loved sleeping alone either.
Ryder wokeup flat on his back, a muscular leg flung over his hips, weighing him down into the mattress. He opened his eyes to take stock of the situation.
Spencer had sunk into the gap between the mattresses during the night, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him much—he was still conked out completely, that one leg over Ryder’s hips and one of his arms distributed over Ash’s middle.
He sure as fuck knew how to hog a bed.
Ash was already awake, although he probably hadn’t been for long, if he was still willing to remain horizontal.
Ryder caught his eye. Ash didn’t say anything at first. He just stared back at Ryder, his usual sharpness … subdued, and not just by the softness of having newly awakened from sleep.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder asked, keeping his voice low.
