There’s a packet of four new ones beneath the sink, and I scratch the cardboard off the back to retrieve one. I brush my teeth while planning my getaway. I could creep down the stairs and sneak out of the house, or I could thunder down them andrun.
Neither are ideal, especially when I remember Liam parked his car behind mine.
I could lock myself in their bathroom until they both leave for work, but that’s cowardly, and I’ve got a feeling they’d call in sick if I tried to pull such a stunt.
They both have experience with breaking down doors, so it’s best not to push it.
There’s only one real option, which is to go downstairs and say good morning to my ex-best men, politely request Liam moves his car as I’ve got to go to work, then drive off never to return.
I’m being a touch dramatic, I know, but it’s the plan I go with.
The kitchen door hangs ajar, and I hover there, hoping to hear Liam and Ryker. I snuck downstairs, grimacing on each step, but I’m not sure why.
I don’t know why I hold my breath either.
Catching them unaware feels like a superpower.
The door opens, and Ryker stands there with his eyebrow raised. He smiles, and although cautious, I can tell it’s genuine. It’s in his eyes and under them, creasing the skin. He looks nice when he smiles, friendly, reassuring, and it’s his default to gaze at people like that. The night before he hadn’t smiled once, but he’d laughed in a way that had made my skin crawl.
“There’s a coffee for you on the side. We’ve got toast, croissants, eggs and bacon if you fancy frying it, fruit, yogurt, cereal . . .” He gestures for me to follow, and I do, eyeing Liam sitting at the table with a plate of crumbs in front of him. He’s in his uniform, minus the stab vest, and with presumably clean trousers. Ryker is wearing his uniform too, minus his brown jacket with flourescent strips.
They both look and feel ridiculously big and masculine even at a distance.
“Thanks, but I’m not that hungry,” I say.
Ryker gets close enough to nudge me with his elbow. “Come on, you’ve got to eat something.”
“If you don’t eat, I won’t move my car,” Liam says simply.
He means it. I slump. “A piece of toast sounds good.”
Ryker flips open the bread bin. “Two pieces coming up.”
I decide not to argue, and when Liam pushes out the chair opposite him with his foot, I take the cue and join him at the table with what I assume is my cup. I can’t meet his eyes as I sip my coffee. It’s great as always; Ryker knows how I like it.
“We wanted to talk to you last night . . .” Liam starts.
He leaves the words hanging like he hopes I’ll grasp on and run with them, but my stomach swims with nerves and my brain supplies the occasional flash of what went down in the living room. It’s not helpful. They wanted to talk but ended up making me orgasm . . .again. When did that become normal? We used to hang out all the time, but now, within a few minutes of being together and with some shouting and shoving, they pull my cock out and give me the most incredible—no, I’ve got to stop thinking about that, or at least not think about it in front of them.
Ryker brings my toast to the table. He’s spread on butter and marmite, something the brothers both detest but keep in theirhouse. It’s for me, my brain supplies. They buy it for me. But I shush the irritating voice and decide Keiron must’ve liked it.
“We wanted to talk to you last night,” Ryker repeats. “Butafter. . . you were too exhausted. Fell asleep against me, and dribbled down my neck.”
Embarrassment burns a path up my cheekbones to my ears. “I didn’t.”
He winks while reaching for a slice of my toast. “You did,” he says before taking a bite. His smugness morphs into disgust and he drops the toast back onto my plate. He’d forgotten he’d given me marmite. His tongue comes out, and it’s kind of gross to see my breakfast like that, but normal too. Not normal in the sense that I see chewed-up food on Ryker’s tongue all the time, but that he’s actingnormallywith me.
My traitorous heart squeezes in my chest.
“Eww, that’s disgusting,” he says as he steps up to the sink to wash out his mouth.
“Idiot,” I say with a smile, and it’s soft, and there’s no way he hears it above the rush of water, but Liam sitting opposite me does. He doesn’t react, but he watches me so intently that there’s no way he missed it.
Ryker turns off the tap, then wipes the back of his arm across his mouth.
“We still want to talk,” Liam says.
“Need to,” Ryker adds.
