A wicked heat filled his gaze, but before I could suggest we back out the door to explore whatever he was thinking, bellowing cut through the air.
“Luna Delaney Oscar,” my dad shouted as he lumbered into the room. There was an uneaten lemon square in his hand, but I knew he must’ve already had one by the powdered sugar on his shirt. “You have access to something likethis, and you bring me boxed crap instead?” He shook the treat. “I raised you better than that.”
“They’re good, right?” I asked.
He made a harumph before looking between Rhys and me. “Well, come on. Mav made steaks.”
“No firefighter chili?” I asked solely because I’d spotted Turner. “How will I survive?”
My brother crossed his arms. “Well, when you said you finally had a boyfriend for us to meet, we figured it was a miracle worth celebrating.”
Both men turned to head back into the kitchen when Rhys grabbed my ass again. That time, he did it hard enough to pull me onto my toes. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh. Right.” I fought a smile. “Dad, there are also lemon cookies in the big box.”
“Luna,” Rhys grumbled, his fingertips digging in roughly.
“Oh yeah. And next time I’m in trouble enough to get the full-name treatment, it’s actually Luna Delaney Walker because we eloped.”
“What?”
At my dad’s booming voice, there was a concerned ruckus from the other room, but I ignored both as I grabbed my husband’s hand and pulled him deeper into the good kind of chaos. “Let’s eat.”
Five Months Later
Rye was louder than ever.
Packed.
Alive.
Safe.
For real that time.
I looked out at everything Rhys had built. The friendships. The loyalty. The love.
And the band.
They were better than the last one I’d seen. And as an added bonus, I got to watch it while perched on a stool like LaQuin always suggested.
Someone tugged my bun—a messy one, not a severe one—and I spun to see my husband’s dimpled grin. “Still scoping for trouble?”
“Occupational hazard,” I said.
He leaned in close like we were conspiring. Me and him against the world.
For then, at least.
“Find any?” he rumbled.
I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
“Big trouble,” I added. “Stubborn. Controlling. Lies about being old before breaking my back like a glowstick while he puts me through the mattress.”
I had the tenderness between my legs to prove that last one. It was also the reason I’d fallen back asleep that morning instead of talking to him like I planned.
