Chapter Text
Fluff
Landon’s Pov:
One, two, inhale.
Three, four, exhale.
The trunk slams shut, pulling me out of my zoned-out daydream and dragging me back into the cold reality around me.
For a few seconds, I sit there.
The familiar leather beneath me. The faint hum of the engine. The night air slipping through the cracks around the door. Everything feels strangely still, almost peaceful.
Then Jeremy’s voice ruins it.
“Are you getting cold feet on me?” His voice booms from outside my McLaren doors.
I unbuckle my seat belt and start to get up.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be getting cold feet if you didn’t turn on the AC in the middle of fucking January.”
I hear Jeremy chuckle as I close my car door. The sound is a shot through the quiet air.
I shove my hands back into my coat pockets and let out a deep sigh.
It’s January, which means excessive weather, fevers, and, more importantly, Jeremy complaining about being cold while simultaneously refusing to admit that he’s about to become Anna from Frozen.
Some things never change.
Jeremy walks up to me, his footsteps clacking against the concrete until he stops a couple of inches away. Close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
“You gonna try to romance me right now?”
He snorts and gives me a bright smile. One that could make up my entire day.
I hate that it can.
His grey eyes shine beneath the moonlight, brighter than they have any right to be. His warm breath brushes against my face, visible in the air between us.
I forget to look away.
I’ve seen that face covered in blood.
I’ve seen those eyes filled with anger.
I’ve watched that smile disappear because of me.
And somehow, after everything, I still get to see it directed at me.
He reaches for one of my hands, pulling it away from my pocket.
I let him.
I don’t even bother pretending I want to fight him on it.
He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss against my ring, lingering there for a second too long as he stares at me through his lashes.
Jeremy has never understood the concept of doing anything halfway.
He keeps his lips hovering an inch above my hand when he speaks.
“Thought you weren’t the romancey type. Unless this is when you say, ‘Oh honey, I’m the one they write best selling novels about. Cover of every Wattpad fanfic.’”
He mocks my accent and raises his pitch.
I huff and slip my hand away, shoving it back into my pocket.
“I don’t do romance. I do what I want.”
We say the last part at the same time.
His grin widens.
“Yeah, yeah.”
He pulls me in by my waist, his gloved hands settling on my hips as our chests touch.
“I know. Who said anything about romance anyway? I don’t want my clothes to smell like vomit for the rest of the day.”
I purse my lips and tilt my head.
He has a point.
His chuckle vibrates through his chest. One of his hands leaves my waist and moves toward my face instead. His fingers brush against my hair before he gently pushes a loose strand behind my ear.
Most of it is tucked underneath my winter hat, but he still takes his time fixing the piece that escaped.
It’s such a small gesture.
So ordinary.
And somehow, it hits harder than anything grand ever could.
Because this is Jeremy.
Not the man I spent years fighting. Not the man I convinced myself I could never need.
Just Jeremy.
The idiot standing in front of me in the cold, touching my hair as though he’s done it a thousand times.
Maybe he has.
I’d believe it.
I take a good look at him.
He’s a couple of inches taller than me, with soft stubble covering his jaw from being too busy this week to shave properly. His cheeks and nose are pink from the chill. His hand remains against my cheek as his thumb sweeps across my skin.
His pupils are wide, surrounded by those grey irises I have spent far too much time pretending I don’t stare at.
His eyebrows are lightly furrowed, creating a small wrinkle between them.
I know that wrinkle.
I know the way his mouth curves when he’s amused. I know the little crease beside his eyes when he smiles. I know the sound of his footsteps.
I know the way he says my name when he’s angry, when he’s teasing me, and when he’s scared.
I know him.
And somewhere along the way, without either of us noticing, knowing him stopped feeling dangerous.
It started feeling like home.
He looks more grown. More happy.
There’s something different about him tonight. Or maybe I’m simply seeing him differently.
His smile slowly fades, and something in his expression shifts. Something that makes it harder to look away.
“We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. Or we could do the complete opposite. I’m on board with anything if it means having you by my side, kukolka.”
An option.
He’s giving me an option.
And suddenly, I remember why I decided to do this in the first place.
Because he never takes my choices away from me. Not even when I make choices he hates.
He lets me choose.
Maybe that’s the strangest part of being with someone like Jeremy. He never asked me to become someone else to be with him.
We’re staying at the Heathens’ mansion tonight with everyone else before our flight to New York in the morning.
I decided to live there for Jeremy’s sake. It’s not like I can’t adapt to my environment anyway.
But maybe that isn’t the whole truth.
Maybe I decided to go because, after everything, I finally wanted to know what it felt like to stop running.
His other hand comes up to my cheek, holding me steady between his palms.
I can’t stop staring at him.
These past two years, I’ve realized my undeniable bond to this brute, and I decided to stop denying it and running away.
Two years.
It feels impossible sometimes.
Two years ago, I would have laughed at the idea.
If you asked me a while back if I was going to be engaged to Jeremy Volkov and leaving my life in London for him, I would’ve shot you and desecrated your grave for fun.
I probably would have enjoyed doing it, too.
Now I’m standing in the cold with his hands on my face, wearing a ring he put on my finger, preparing to leave the life I built in London behind.
I’m crazy for this.
I know.
But every time I look into his eyes, I see the one person who hasn’t tried to change me. The one person who accepted me exactly as I was.
Even when I made it difficult.
Especially when I made it difficult.
Someone who acknowledged my wrongs and showed me that there was more than one way to see them.
I’ve beaten this man.
Stabbed this man.
Ignored this man.
Hated this man.
And yet, here I am.
Still here.
Still choosing him.
Maybe that’s what makes this so terrifying.
I’ve spent so much of my life believing that love meant surrendering something.
My freedom. My control. Myself.
But Jeremy never asked for any of it.
He simply stood beside me until I realized I didn’t have to run from him.
Is this what you call love?
The thought sits there, quiet and terrifying.
I clench my teeth.
Then I lift my hand and grab his collar, pulling him toward me as I smash our lips together. His body immediately reacts, his hands tightening against me.
Maybe it’s to hide my trembling hands.
Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to do with all the things I’m feeling.
Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to look into those eyes anymore.
Those eyes that have a pull on me.
Those eyes that make me bathe in vulnerability.
The kiss is messy and desperate, nothing polished about it.
Nothing gentle.
Nothing that would fit the definition of romance either of us would ever admit to.
And somehow, it’s ours.
I pull away with a push.
“Alright, let’s get inside before Nikolai starts to try and fuck on the couch. Then it won’t just be you smelling like vomit.”
I start walking away, trying to pretend like my heart isn’t still beating too hard. Trying to pretend I didn’t just kiss the man I once swore I would destroy.
Trying to pretend I don’t want him to follow me.
He does.
Of course he does.
He grabs my arm and pulls me toward him again, closing the distance between us, no more gentle than the first.
Because nothing between us is. It never has been.
Maybe that’s why it works.
We were never soft people. We were never made for ordinary love.
We were made for something louder. Something reckless. Something that survives being broken and put back together.
He pulls away and grins, that familiar arrogance returning to his face.
“Can’t let you get away that easy.”
I roll my eyes and shove him back.
His laugh follows me toward the mansion.
And for once, I don’t mind being followed.
——
Two knocks are all it takes for the door to slam open, hitting the wall behind it hard enough to probably leave a dent.
“Well, well. How’d you convince the Landon King to sleep at the Heathens’ mansion for a day? Must have superpowers….orrrrrr a super big dick!”
The most irritating figure in existence opens the door.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been here.”
I shove Nikolai out of the way as I step into the house.
My sister, Jeremy’s sister, and Nikolai’s sisters should all be out with the other girls right now. That means it’s just me, Brandon, and the rest of the Heathens.
I make my way through the hallway because, like I said, I’ve been here before.
I’ve broken into this mansion maybe a hundred times.
I know which doors stick. I know which hallways are quieter than the others. I know where the cameras are.
I also have some security cameras around here somewhere, although I’m not particularly interested in remembering where I put them tonight.
The mansion is exactly how I remember it.
Too big. Too expensive.
Not necessarily a problem, but it’s also full of people who have somehow survived knowing me.
I hear Nikolai and Jeremy chatting behind me as we reach the living room.
My brother is sitting on the couch with his attention buried in his phone, but he looks up the second he sees me.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come.”
His smile grows wider when Nikolai charges at him from the other side of the living room, leaving Jeremy to walk up behind me.
“Neither did I, honestly.”
I look around the room.
It’s pretty quiet for a band of rats.
The kind of quiet that feels suspicious in this house. Probably because there are only two of them in sight.
“Where’s my favorite collection of degenerates? I only count two right now.”
Jeremy huffs from behind me and goes to sit on the couch.
Free spot next to my brother and Nikolai.
“Why? You getting sentimental?”
Ah.
I know that voice.
“Last I checked, we don’t particularly have those emotions in our inbox, Killian.”
He comes out from the kitchen with some wine in hand.
How refreshing.
He looks entirely too comfortable, strolling into the room with a bottle of wine as though this is some respectable gathering and not a house full of men I have personally threatened, fought, and, on occasion, considered killing.
“Speak for yourself. I’m updated.”
Nikolai starts laughing at that.
Well, more than he can, anyway. He’s still stuck to my brother like glue.
I come up to Killian and snatch the wine from his hand.
“Mind grabbing me a glass since you’re already up?”
He glares at me as I walk away and go sit on one of the free loveseats.
I hold the bottle loosely in my hand, watching the dark liquid shift inside whenever I move it.
“Didn’t know we were having a wine party in here. I am not waking you guys up in the morning, just saying.”
Pretty boy Gareth walks in, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and loose sweatpants hanging off his frame. He looks far too comfortable.
Far too innocent.
Which, considering who he is, is probably the biggest lie in the room.
“We could, if one of you brutes would get some glass.”
They turn to look at me, unimpressed.
Lame.
Gareth takes a seat across from me, settling into the couch as though he has all the time in the world.
Killian just grabs another wine bottle.
Don’t know what’s up with him, but I don’t care.
Jeremy sighs and gets up, probably to get some glass cups.
It doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Love looks bad on you, bro.”
Brandon scolds the monkey from next to him.
I just keep spinning the bottle in my hand slowly. The liquid splashes against the sides but never spills over. I watch it for a moment, letting the room blur into the background.
It’s kind of awkward being in here with people you’ve sworn and threatened to kill.
There’s something almost nostalgic about it, which is a ridiculous thought considering how many of these men I’ve wanted dead at one point or—many.
None of us, except Brandon and—obviously—my fiance, particularly like each other.
That’s a given.
We never have.
We probably never will.
But somewhere along the way, the hatred stopped requiring action. We’re all connected to each other now, whether we particularly enjoy the arrangement or not.
There are too many relationships between us. Too many shared histories. Too many people standing between one another.
So there’s no reason to fight anymore.
At least, not tonight.
For once, we can sit in the same room without someone bleeding on the carpet.
A burst of laughter comes from somewhere in the room before fading again.
I glance around at them.
Nikolai is still attached to my brother.
Gareth is sprawled comfortably across from me.
Killian is pouring himself another drink.
Jeremy is somewhere looking for glasses.
And Brandon is sitting there as though this is the place he’s waited to be in his whole life—gentle smile and calm posture.
Maybe that’s the strangest part.
I used to think these people would only ever exist in my life as enemies. Now I’m sitting in their living room, holding their wine, waiting for one of them—my fiancé—to bring me a glass.
Life has a strange sense of humor.
——
Jeremy comes back a minute later with an armful of glasses, balancing them against his chest with the same confidence he uses whenever he’s doing something that should probably require more than two hands.
Somehow, he manages to look completely unbothered by the fact that one wrong movement could send half of them crashing onto the floor.
He sets them down on the coffee table, and one nearly tips over immediately.
I catch it before it falls.
Jeremy looks at me.
I look at him.
“Impressive.”
“I know.”
I place the cup back on the table, farther away from the ledge. He gives me that stupid grin of his before reaching over and taking the wine bottle from my hand.
I give him a confused look.
“I’m pouring,” he says as he starts filling one of the five cups.
“I can pour my own wine.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. He simply continues pouring as though I said nothing at all.
“I know.”
He says it so casually that I almost let it go.
Almost.
“You’re annoying.”
I sigh and sit on the table, stretching my arms behind me against the glass top.
“You love me.”
My eyes narrow, and my heartbeat immediately picks up.
I hate that two words can do that to me.
I haven’t outright said I love you to Jeremy. I haven’t even been able to decide whether I actually feel that emotion or whether I simply haven’t allowed myself to name whatever this is between us.
I know I care about him. I know I choose him. I know the thought of losing him is considerably more unpleasant than I would ever willingly admit.
But love?
That word carries weight.
If I ever say it to Jeremy, I want to say it without hesitation. I want there to be no doubt hiding somewhere behind it, no part of me wondering whether I’m confusing attachment with something deeper.
I want to know.
And until I know, I’m not saying it.
It also doesn’t help that the others immediately start paying attention.
Nikolai’s grin becomes downright predatory.
Brandon looks between us with the expression of someone watching a car crash happen in slow motion and realizing there’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop it.
Killian reduced himself to taking a sip of his wine directly from the bottle this time. Glass completely forgotten.
Gareth raises an eyebrow.
Jeremy, meanwhile, looks entirely too pleased with himself.
But I notice the tension in his shoulders.
It’s subtle enough that anyone else might miss it.
I don’t.
He’s waiting for my answer.
“I tolerate you.”
I steal one of the wine glasses before he’s finished pouring all of them and down it in one big gulp.
“Same thing.”
“No.”
I grunt through the aftertaste.
“Yes.”
“No.”
He pours more wine into my glass anyway, completely ignoring my argument like he already decided he won.
I take it from him and settle back into the loveseat.
“God, you two are disgusting.”
Nikolai’s voice cuts through the room.
I turn my head toward him.
“You’re one to talk.”
His arm tightens around my brother, and he doesn’t even look remotely ashamed of himself.
“I’m happy.”
Nikolai accentuates the statement with a kiss to Brandon’s cheek.
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
I take another gulp because I can-not be sober during this conversation.
Brandon laughs quietly under his breath.
Jeremy sits beside me, close enough that his thigh presses against mine.
He doesn’t say anything.
He doesn’t have to.
His hand settles against my knee beneath the edge of my coat, warm even through the fabric.
I glance down at it.
Then at him.
He gives me the smallest smile.
It’s ridiculous how easily he can do that.
After everything between us, after all the years of fighting, arguing, threatening each other, and pretending there was nothing underneath any of it, something as simple as his hand resting on my knee can make my chest tighten.
He doesn’t even have to try.
That’s probably the most dangerous thing about him.
How effortlessly he gets beneath my defenses. How easily he can turn an ordinary moment into something intimate without saying a single word.
I take another sip of wine.
“Stop staring,” I mumble under my breath.
“I’m not staring.”
He lifts one of his eyebrows, clearly treating this as some sort of competition.
“You are.”
“I’m admiring.”
I can feel my cheeks heat up out of nowhere, so I decide to blame it on the cold.
“Same thing.”
“Not even remotely.”
I roll my eyes.
Across the room, Killian makes a disgusted noise.
“I preferred you when you hated each other.”
He takes another swig of his wine. He looks like Santa Claus if Santa Claus had depression and six other diagnoses.
“You preferred us when we were trying to kill each other,” I correct.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t even hesitate to agree, remaining more interested in the wall he’s staring at than in any of us.
“Why?”
“It was quieter.”
Gareth laughs.
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
If I know one thing, it’s that Jeremy and I were wreaking havoc every second of the day. There was no possible way it would’ve been quieter when we hated each other.
“It made perfect sense.”
Nikolai points toward me.
“I still remember when he broke into the mansion through the east window.”
I glance at him.
That day was when Nikolai pissed me off spectacularly.
“You left it unlocked.”
“You climbed three floors.”
“You should have secured the window.”
“You punched me in the face.”
It was a great memory, honestly. More of a hit-and-run, if I say so myself. He was too busy hooking up to notice me anyway.
“You were asking for it.”
“I wasn’t.”
Nikolai starts glaring at me from where he’s attached to Brandon on the couch.
“You were.”
Jeremy looks at me.
“You never told me that.”
I shrug.
“You didn’t ask.”
His eyebrows lift.
“You broke into this house before we even liked each other?”
He says it as though that’s somehow surprising.
He already knew I’d broken into this mansion before, so the point of asking is practically useless.
“I broke into this house before I knew your name.”
Something changes in his expression.
Not much, but enough for me to notice.
A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“Romantic.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying. You’ve been breaking into my life longer than I realized.”
I stare at him for a second.
There it is again.
That stupid warmth.
That look he keeps slipping into moments when I least expect it.
It’s almost nostalgic.
I remember when I first knew his name, when hearing it used to irritate me simply because it belonged to a person who could somehow get under my skin without even trying. I remember the arguments, the fights, the constant games of who could get beneath the other’s skin first.
Back then, I would have laughed at the idea that one day his name would be engraved into a ring on my finger.
I would have laughed even harder if someone told me I would eventually want him beside me.
Now he’s sitting inches away from me, his hand still resting on my knee, looking at me as though he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I look away before anyone can notice the expression on my face.
Too late.
Brandon catches it.
He doesn’t say anything.
Thank God.
I take another sip of my wine and pretend the heat in my face has nothing to do with Jeremy.
A balloon suddenly bumps against the ceiling before drifting back down into the room.
I glance up at it.
Since when was that there?
As if right on time, the doorbell rings.
Nikolai gets up to open the door rather swiftly.
“Didn’t realize we were expecting anyone else.”
I get up to refill my wine cup.
While I’m doing so, footsteps begin thudding against the floor.
I turn around as multiple people come into the room carrying flowers, balloons, and far too many wine bottles.
For a moment, I simply stare.
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what’s happening before two hands wrap around my waist and pull me into a tight hug.
“Happy engagement, Lan. I’m really happy for you.”
Glyndon gives me a big smile as she unwraps her hands from my waist and steps back.
That’s right.
I’m engaged.
The thought still feels strange when I say it to myself.
Engaged to Jeremy.
There was a time when those two words together would have sounded so absurd that I would have assumed someone was trying to insult me.
Now they’re my reality.
“Didn’t realize we were the sentimental type.”
Someone grabs the wine out of my hand.
It’s Creighton, passing by with a small, “Congrats.”
“Thief.”
I ignore Killian’s ‘ironic’ from behind me.
He keeps walking.
“You’re engaged. Buy another bottle.”
Before I can answer, Eli steps up and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“Never thought you’d marry Volkov, but then again, you have issues. Perfect match.”
Remi appears beside him almost immediately, throwing a hand over my other shoulder.
“Marriage is for the weak.”
“I agree with him, ditch the gorilla and come work at King Enterprises.”
I turn to Eli and raise a brow.
“You’re one of the people who just congratulated me. Need I remind you, you’re also married?”
He shrugs so I turn to Remi, “And you’re the one who sent me a pic of you at midnight two nights ago with the caption “Your lordship approves.””
“I can contain multitudes.”
I stare at him.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
He grins and wanders off before I can ask again.
Ava rushes in next and puts a large bouquet of flowers into my hands.
“I’m gonna miss you and your obnoxious personality, Lan.”
She gives me a small smile before Eli whisks her and Remi away.
I look down at the bouquet.
Then at them.
“Did you just say you’re gonna miss me?”
Ava gives me a side-eye from across the room.
I grin wider.
A balloon catches on the chandelier above us, and Gareth immediately complains that someone is going to break it.
Nobody listens.
Vaughn appears from whatever corner of the mansion he’s been hiding in, a glass in his hand and an expression that suggests he’s been observing the entire thing without feeling the need to participate.
Of course.
I barely get the chance to wonder when he got here before Cecily comes up next with a small gift in her hand.
“Hi, Lan. I’m happy for you, and I wish you a great and safe future.”
I take the gift from her hands and smile.
“A gift? I’m honored, Cece.”
She chuckles softly before leaving to go to Jeremy.
Maya passes behind her, barely sparing me a glance before continuing toward Jeremy.
I snort under my breath.
Not even a congratulations?
Apparently not.
Nikolai interrupts Gareth in the middle of whatever complaint he’s making about the flight, and Gareth looks ready to murder him.
The room is already getting louder.
Then I see Mia.
I take a few steps toward her as she meets me halfway.
“Never thought you’d be the type to get married.”
She jokes, her sarcasm obvious.
I nod.
“Neither did I.”
I turn toward her again.
“How are you?”
She stares up at me, and I see a hint of sadness in her eyes.
A long time ago, I thought Mia would have been the one standing where Jeremy is now.
I thought she would be the girl I would spend the rest of my life with.
There was a version of my future where I could almost picture it.
But time wasn’t right, and we weren’t a match.
Some people can matter to you without being meant to stay with you forever.
Mia was one of those people.
After all, she deserved—deserves—someone better than me.
“Happy.”
She pauses for a moment.
“You?”
“Satisfied.”
We stay in silence for a moment.
It’s not uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that comes from knowing someone long enough that neither of you needs to fill every second with words.
I catch what—or rather, who—she is staring at, and I give her a small smile.
“You love her?”
She doesn’t hesitate.
“I do.”
Then she looks at me again.
“You love him?”
I think about it for a second.
“Tolerate would be a better word.”
She lets out a small giggle.
“I’m happy for you. No, I’m proud of you, Landon. You met someone who could give you what you needed better than me. I care about you, and you deserve to be loved.”
For once, I don’t have a smart response.
Her words settle somewhere deeper than I want them to.
Maybe because there was a time when I thought Mia was the person who understood me best. Maybe because she’s acknowledging something I’m still struggling to acknowledge myself.
I’m loved.
Not tolerated.
Not managed.
Not fixed.
Loved.
And somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else.
Because what if it isn’t unconditional?
I’m a God of chaos. I make problems everywhere I go.
What if I make one I can’t fix?
At that moment, Cecily waves her over for cake.
Mia takes one last look at me.
“I’ll see you around.”
I give her a wink and watch her leave.
I take a deep breath and allow myself to take everything in.
The flowers in my arms.
The balloons floating above us.
The voices filling the mansion.
The people I once swore I would kill and the ones I swore to protect now standing around me, celebrating my engagement.
The man sitting across the room who somehow became the center of my life without me realizing it was happening.
I have never felt this way before.
Maybe it’s gratitude. Maybe it’s care. Maybe even happiness.
I don’t know what to call it yet.
Whatever it is, it’s a mixture of emotions threatening to explode out of me, and for once, I do not feel the immediate need to suppress every single one.
I simply let them exist.
Something nudges my arm.
I turn to see a glass of wine being handed to me by Annika. She has another glass in her other palm.
“Brother-in-law.”
I take the glass.
She brings her own closer.
“Sister-in-law.”
We cheer to it.
Our glasses meet with a faint clink.
I look down at the wine for a moment before glancing across the room.
Jeremy is already looking at me.
His expression is warm in that infuriating way he’s mastered, as though he knows something I’m still too stubborn to admit.
I raise my glass slightly in his direction.
He smiles.
And for a brief moment, surrounded by people I never expected to call anything close to family, I think about how strange the past can be.
How people you once wanted dead can become people you would trust with your life.
How someone you once fought can become someone you cannot imagine waking up without.
How a man I once knew only as an enemy is now the man whose last name sits beside mine.
Maybe I don’t know exactly what I feel yet.
Maybe I’m not ready to call it love.
But I know I’m here.
I know I chose him.
And for tonight, that’s enough.
——
The room settles into a strange rhythm after that.
The kind of rhythm I never thought I would recognize as comfortable.
Conversation drifts from one subject to another without anyone bothering to keep track of where it started. Someone mentions the flight tomorrow again, which immediately gives Gareth something else to complain about. He complains about the hour, Nikolai complains about Gareth complaining, Killian continues drinking as though he’s made it his personal mission to finish the bottle before anyone can stop him, and Brandon laughs at all of it.
Jeremy talks, and the rest respond.
For once, nobody is trying to prove anything.
There are no threats. No weapons. No blood.
Just a room full of people who somehow became part of the same story.
I take another sip of wine and look around.
Not so long ago, this would’ve been impossible.
I would’ve rather died than admit that I could feel comfortable in this house. I would’ve considered the very idea insulting. This place belongs to the Heathens, and I’d spent enough time fighting them to know exactly what I thought of that.
Now I know exactly where the wine glasses are.
I know which couch Jeremy prefers.
I know which hallway creaks when someone walks through it.
I know which doors stick when they’re opened too quickly.
Nikolai’s laugh carries from three rooms away, and I recognize it without even thinking.
Brandon looks down at his phone whenever he wants to pretend he isn’t listening to a conversation.
Killian drinks more whenever he’s irritated.
Eli keeps taking his wine away from him, only for Killian to find another one moments later.
Ava has never discovered the existence of a volume control as she talks to Glyndon.
Jeremy and Vaughn are having some sarcastic conversation in the corner, neither of them willing to let the other have the final word.
Maya and Annika exchange shy glances whenever they think nobody is paying attention.
Cecily and Mia quietly look at each other from across the room, communicating more through their expressions than either of them needs to say aloud.
Remi and Creighton are having what is undoubtedly some sort of secret plotting session, because neither of them has ever looked innocent while whispering together.
I know Gareth will complain about the flight at least six more times before morning.
And somehow, I know that when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll miss this.
That thought catches me off guard.
I stare down at my glass, watching the wine move gently whenever my fingers shift around it.
Miss this.
The thought should feel ridiculous.
Instead, it sits heavily in my chest.
Maybe that’s what growing up feels like.
It’s not becoming softer. It’s not becoming better.
It’s realizing that some things you once thought you would hate forever can become memories you don’t want to lose.
There was a time when I thought I had to remain exactly the person I had always been.
Untouchable.
Unattached.
Unaffected.
I thought needing people was a weakness, and caring about them was an even worse one.
Yet here I am, looking around a room filled with people whose habits I know without ever consciously memorizing them.
I know them.
And somewhere along the way, they learned me too.
Jeremy’s fingers squeeze my shoulder.
“You okay?”
I glance at him.
“Fine.”
He studies my face for a second.
He knows I’m lying.
Of course he does.
The bastard has become annoyingly good at reading me.
But instead of pushing, instead of asking another question or trying to drag whatever I’m feeling out of me, he simply leans closer until his shoulder presses against mine.
I let him.
The warmth of him settles beside me, familiar and grounding.
For once, I don’t need to say anything.
The room keeps talking around us.
Someone laughs loudly.
Someone complains about something.
A glass clinks against another.
The voices overlap until they become one familiar noise, the kind I never expected to associate with anything resembling home.
And I sit there, surrounded by people I hated a few years ago.
Maybe it didn’t happen all at once.
Maybe there was never one grand moment when everything suddenly became different.
It happened in pieces.
One fight.
One argument.
One unwanted favor.
One stolen glance.
One moment at a time.
Every time someone showed up when they didn’t have to.
Every time an enemy became an ally.
Every time an argument ended without blood.
Every time Jeremy looked at me as though he could see through every wall I had spent years building.
Until, without realizing it, I ended up here.
Sitting beside him.
Wearing his ring.
Listening to the people I once considered wastes of space argue about a flight tomorrow morning.
And strangely enough, I don’t want to be anywhere else.
“Don’t you think it’s crazy how most of your relationships started because of the Initiation?” Remi says from one of the couches, bringing me back from my thoughts. He’s looking around the room like he’s just uncovered some great conspiracy. “Maybe we should start calling it Cupid’s Contour.”
Beside him, Creighton lifts his glass.
“I think Cupid should start debt collecting.”
“Oh hell, we’d all go broke.” Ava giggles, resting her head against Eli’s shoulder.
Remi laughs and points at her.
“That’d be funny.”
“I think Satan would be a better word,” Brandon cuts in, his gaze landing on Nikolai. “Seeing as how nothing about it was cute—or friendly.”
Nikolai raises an eyebrow, completely unbothered.
“But that’s why we’re here right now. I call it a win-win situation.”
“Because threatening my brother with my other brother’s life is what you call a sacrifice for the greater good?” Glyndon asks after taking a gulp of her wine.
“When is Landon ever not getting his life threatened?” Cecily adds.
“He is the threat,” Annika says with a snort.
I look at her and smirk.
“Atta girl. Smarter than your brother.”
I barely get the words out before I feel both Jeremy’s and Creighton’s glares from either side of me.
I glance between them and shrug.
“It’s true.”
“Could’ve at least left Bran out of it,” Glyndon says.
“Oh, so it’d be okay if it were just Landon?” I ask, pressing a hand dramatically against my chest. “Breaking my heart, little sis.”
I swipe at the corner of my eye with the napkin in my hand, wiping away an entirely imaginary tear.
Glyndon immediately shakes her head.
“I didn’t mean that—”
“I did.”
Maya says it without hesitation.
She looks directly at me, completely devoid of guilt.
The room erupts.
Laughter comes from almost every corner, overlapping until I can barely make out who’s laughing at what. At least some of them have the decency to hide it. Cecily covers her mouth.
Mia tries.
Kind of.
She fails miserably.
I point at Maya.
“You see? This is why I tolerate you.”
“Good one,” Killian says from somewhere beside us.
I turn toward him, smile completely gone.
“Shut up and drink your wine.”
He lifts his middle finger at me before taking another swig directly from the bottle.
“Don’t act like it didn’t work out for you and Killian anyway,” Nikolai adds.
“I did most of the work,” Killian grunts around the bottle.
I narrow my eyes.
“Also, it was Jeremy’s idea, not mine.”
Consider me bewildered.
I slowly turn toward Jeremy.
“Was it now?”
He immediately finds something very interesting about the wine in his glass.
He doesn’t look me in the eye.
I stare at him.
He continues staring at his drink.
Interesting.
“So he’s the one who gave Nikolai the bright idea to use Brandon to get Landon?" Eli asks.
“Yep, and it worked.”
Gareth speaks from the couch without looking up from his phone.
“At first, it was supposed to be me who sent the invite, but I was a little…” He pauses, his thumb continuing to scroll across the screen. “Preoccupied at the time.”
I snort.
“Most of you were.”
“I’m glad you did,” Nikolai says, turning toward Brandon with a grin. “Otherwise, I never would’ve gotten involved with this gorgeous face.”
Brandon immediately turns red.
His fingers start fidgeting together in his lap, and he suddenly seems very interested in literally anything that isn’t Nikolai.
I barely have time to enjoy it before Killian speaks again.
“You just basically called Landon gorgeous, you know.”
“Shut up, Killian,” Jeremy and Nikolai say at the exact same time.
I look between them.
Then at Killian.
“Oh, this is getting interesting.” Remi—the provocative little shit—chimes in.
“Jealous, Killian?” I ask, clearly enjoying myself now.
“Why would I be?” Killian smirks, lifting the bottle again. “I have the deluxe version.”
The room explodes.
Everyone starts talking at once.
Gareth finally looks up from his phone.
Creighton nearly chokes on his drink.
Remi buries his face against the couch cushion, laughing so hard his shoulders shake.
Even Vaughn cracks, covering his mouth while Killian looks entirely too pleased with himself.
The rest of the girls, along with Brandon and Nikolai, immediately start scolding him for saying something so shitty. I’m pretty sure I hear a few threats mixed in there too.
Jeremy… well, Jeremy’s being Jeremy. If looks could kill, Killian would be one dead bastard.
I’m starting to wonder whether murder is socially acceptable at an engagement party.
I lean back against the couch, watching the chaos unfold.
Idiots.
Every single one of them.
“Okay, okay, guys, chill out.” Ava raises both hands, trying and failing to regain control of the room. “Let’s just make a toast to love!”
Wasn’t she just telling Killian to stick a scalpel up his ass?
“Yeah, no,” Gareth says immediately.
Creighton lifts his glass.
“Agreed.”
Ava’s smile falls.
“Fine. Friendship?”
Nobody moves. Nobody even bothers answering.
She looks around the room.
“You guys are impossible.”
I take another sip of wine.
She sighs dramatically.
“Okay, fine. Since you wanna be such assholes, let’s toast to us, the United Nations of Fuckery!”
I pause.
That’s actually not terrible.
Scratch that. It’s terrible, but it's not that terrible.
“I could work with that,” Vaughn says surprisingly from his spot near the corner.
I look toward him.
“Look at that. You do speak.”
Vaughn gives me a flat look.
“Occasionally.”
I hum and push myself to my feet, taking my glass with me.
The room gradually quiets as I raise it.
“To the United Nations of Fuckery.”
Glasses lift around the room.
Some people clink with whoever happens to be closest. Others simply raise theirs into the air. A few of them are already half-empty.
I catch Jeremy’s eye as our glasses meet.
He gives me a small grin.
Then we all swallow whatever is left.
I settle my empty glass onto the table with a sharp clink.
The room immediately begins dissolving back into overlapping conversations.
I turn toward Jeremy.
I don’t say anything. I just give him a look.
The kind that means follow me.
His eyebrow lifts.
Then his mouth curves into a knowing smile.
I turn and start toward the hallway.
Behind me, Killian calls out.
“Someone get me another wine bottle. Something tells me we’re gonna be hearing a lot of things tonight.”
I don’t bother turning around.
“Wouldn’t want you to catch a hard-on.”
A chorus of groans follows me from the living room.
I grin to myself as I keep walking.
The United Nations of Fuckery, indeed.