Aria grins, all bubbly energy. “Yeah… let’s getnasty.”
I raise a brow at her. “Did someone drop you as a baby?”
Aria laughs brightly. “Um, no! Guns are just fun though… am I right, boys?”
Ray grins and shakes his head. “They’re not supposed to befun, princess.”
Armen laughs and fist-pumps her across the table.
I exhale through my nose. “Jesus Christ. Shut up and let me read.”
The table gradually settles into its usual low hum of conversation. I dip a strip of bacon into the syrup on my plate and take a sweet, crunchy bite, the newspaper open in front of me. For a moment, everything almost feels normal.
I hear Kit’s voice before I see him, brighter than it has any right to be after last night. “Thanks, Lorraine.”
He steps into the dining room properly. I don’t look up; I keep my eyes fixed on the newspaper in front of me, rereading the same sentence for the third time without absorbing a single word.
Armen speaks first, casual as ever. “Feeling better, kid?”
“Yeah, thanks Armen.”
Selina laughs softly. “Don’t you look good this morning.”
Someone at the table whistles low. My curiosity spikes, but I stay neutral, face still buried in the paper. Truth is, after last night I can’t even lie to myselfanymore. I’m not protecting Kit, not really, he knows the truth now. He knows exactly who his parents were and what I did. Maybe he’ll want to leave, pack a bag, and start fresh somewhere far away from this chaos and from me. And maybe that would be the right thing. Because deep down I know the sick truth: Ilikedhaving him here when he was innocent and terrified. I liked being the only monster he had to fear.Or at least that’s what I tell myself… I tell myself I don’t still want him wrapped around me like he was last night, small and warm and trusting. I tell myself I don’t still want him in my bed, curled against my chest like he belongs there. I clench my jaw hard and shove the thought away.
Kit pulls out the chair on my right, the one opposite Ray, the one I forced him to sit in every single day for two years, and sits down without hesitation. I still don’t look at him.
I just lift my coffee and take a slow sip. “You don’t have to sit there anymore, Christopher.”
The entire table goes quiet. Ray stills beside me. Forks pause mid-air. These nosy bastards have always loved watching the two of us, complete opposites, Kit being the only person I’ve ever let get this close. And now I’ve just called him Christopher and released him from the seat I made him occupy for two years.
Kit inhales sharply. “What? I… don’t?”
I grunt and exhale. “That’s what I just said.”
“Oh… thanks, I guess. But… I’m here now.”
I nod once, acting like I couldn’t care less.
His dainty hand comes to rest on the table, innocent as anything, but a little too close to where mine is resting. I wrap my fingers around my mug instead, keeping them busy.
Selina leans forward, all sunshine. “So, what are you gonna do today, Kitty?”
I roll my eyes inwardly. When the fuck did she start calling him Kitty?
Kit answers softly, “I think I’m gonna try going out again.”
“That’s great, Kit,” Selina says, warm and encouraging. “But remember… don’t push yourself too far. Exposure therapy, not diving into the deep end.”
“Yeah, got it.”
Selina turns to me. “Why don’t you go with him, boss?”
“I’m busy, Selina. I don’t have time to babysit.”
Kit scoffs. The small, rare sound is what finally makes me lean back in my chair and look at him, one brow raised.
Only then do I really seewhathe’s wearing. Black jeans that actually fit him for once, andmyblack button-down… the one I told him to keep and wear more often. It’s far too big on his smaller frame, half-tucked, half-hanging loose, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, collar slipping off one shoulder, exposing his collarbone. His dark curls look… styled, like he put something in them; making them look soft and deliberately tousled instead of their usual messy chaos. He looks good,toofucking good.I hate it… how much effort he clearly put in this morning. I hate the way my gaze drags slowly over every detail before I can stop myself, and I especially hate the sharp twist of want that coils low in my gut.
