Page 26 of Laken's longing

Somme’s raucous laughter filled the apartment as he poured a glass of wine from the bottle Isley had left on the counter. “I do, but you do know you don’t need to act like you’re an old man, well past their prime.”

It was a conversation they’d had repeatedly since Somme had moved in and Laken had entered their conversation. “It’s not acting like an old man when I don’t want to go out and shag anything with a pulse.”

Any shagging would be good.

Pleaseeee!

What? You use those toys to get us through our heat. You won’t entertain the club that Ziggy mentioned, as much as you were interested when he said he met Silas in one. I’m thinking Laken could be visiting these places. You could ask Laken to help a poor hapless sugar glider’s human side have some fun.

His brother wore a grin that said whatever emotions were playing over his features, they had not gone unnoticed.

Somme settled himself on the couch facing the TV. “Don’t say a word,” Isley threatened, pointing his glass at Somme, “or you’ll find yourself homeless once more.” He didn’t mean it and Somme knew it was an empty threat; Isley wouldn’t do that to his brother.

“Give over, you’d never do that. And who would clean up after you. I don’t know how you can be more organized than a sergeant major at work but can’t manage to get your socks in the laundry basket.”

It was true, and Isley blushed with humiliation, shrugging it off defensively. “It was living with seven other people who thrived in chaos.”

It was the truth, his family were a messy bunch. He’d once brought home a friend who had found the cluttered mess and noisy house too much. After the first visit, he’d refused to come back and always insisted they go to his place to hang out.

“Anyway, you’re gonna have to sort yourself out after tomorrow. I’ve found a new apartment and paid a deposit today. Don’t want to cramp your style any longer.”

Total bullshit, there was nothing to cramp In Isley’s life. “Who is it?” Isley asked resignedly, knowing his brother all too well. Isley had one rule, no bringing home his shag buddies. Somme loved everyone and had an equal opportunity dick.

“Why do you say it like that?” he questioned, unable to quite keep the smirk to himself.

“Because it’s been three weeks since the last ‘love of your life’ and you are never single for long.”

Somme’s powerful shoulders shook with his laughter. “Got a lot of love to share around. And my dick gets lonely.”

The last sip of wine Isley took snorted right out his nose at that. He coughed and choked, looking through blurry eyes at his unrepentant brother while he swiped at his chin with the back of his hand. Before he could say anything, the doorbell rang.

Somme was up and heading to the door. “You expecting anyone?”

Isley had no plans. “Nope.”

“Who are you?” an angry voice demanded before Somme uttered a word.

Somme blocked most of the doorframe, but Isley would know that voice anywhere.

“What’s it to you?” Somme demanded in an aggressive tone he seldom used.

Isley sighed, gaining his feet and placing his glass down to go to the door to stop a macho pissing match. Somme was well aware of Isley’s issues with Laken, and he was very protective. He also knew who Laken was by sight.

Isley placed a hand on Somme’s flexing bicep. “It’s fine, Somme. Laken, what do you want?” he asked, avoiding looking directly at the alpha who wore casual clothes with the same finesse he wore his suit and looked too damn hot for Isley’s sanity. Instead, he focused on the tub he held, which had a distinct aroma of warm cookies coming from it. Chocolate chip, if Isley wasn’t mistaken.

Somme stayed right where he was, blocking most of the doorway, when Laken gruffly requested, “Can I have a minute, Isley—alone?”

“No, you—”

Isley squeezed his brother's arm again, signaling he was fine. “A minute,” Isley said grudgingly, when he was more intrigued than he wanted to be, as Laken had never come to his home before—with homemade cookies.

Chapter Twelve

Laken

After dropping the bombshell about Rue’s mating in the group chat and finishing their call, Laken had showered and wasted more than an hour trying to pull himself together to go downstairs. He could hear Bessie, their housekeeper, somewhere along the corridor cleaning, and humming to herself. He’d strained to hear if Dad and Popi were in, before finally giving in to the need to put something in his stomach, having decided to avoid work as it was already past lunch time. He dideventuallyman up and went down to the kitchen. Had he crept like the coward he was? Why, any sane person would, when they still had no clue what they’d done or said the night before.

Begrudgingly, he acknowledged that Isley was more than capable of handling the office for a day or two. And there was no way in hell he was going in, looking and feeling as he did. Hell no. It would give the game away, and he wasn’t ready for thatwhile feeling more delicate than a flower petal crushed in the palm of a hand.