Page 115 of The Revenge Agenda

“We ganged up on your ex together. We’re bonded for life, my friend.”

I knock my beer against his. “I did not see my life ending up here.”

“None of us did. But the good news is we’re just getting started. Ask him. Rush deserves it.”

And those three words magically take the worry away. They reframe my worry about stealing Rush from his friends to comfort that Seven thinks I’m the best thing for Rush. And with how protective Seven is of people, it makes me believe it.

“I’ll do it tonight.”

Seven grabs me in a side hug. “In that case, pre-congratulations. And also, pre-warning. I will not be helping move. I love you both, but moving can go to hell.”

“Uh-huh, we’ll see.”

“I swear, man. Not happening.”

I hug him back. “Let’s see what Molly has to say about that.”

Seven groans, and I know I’ve got him. No way in hell will Molly not want to help, and if he’s helping, so will Seven.

“Mols doesn’t control me.”

“Sure. Not intentionally.”

The big man scowls and walks away, all but confirming my point. He can pretend to hate it all he likes; I know him better than that.

Our early Christmas is amazing. I meet extended friends, catch up with my parents and Audrey, suck up to Aggy over her Christmas pudding, and even manage to get Kismet to stop hissing at me long enough to feed him treats.

And that night, when everyone leaves and it’s just Rush and me, lying in his bed, room awash with moonlight, I ask him.

His eyes shine up at me as he answers with the most perfect word I’ve ever heard.

“Yes.”

Epilogue

Hunter

“Goddammit, Rush. You didn’t tell me what a bathroom hog you were before you moved in,” I call through the locked door.

The shower is running, and he’s got a podcast playing over the sound of the water. He said he’d stop locking the door. He always forgets.

The water cuts off, and the podcast follows it.

“Sorry! I’m coming!”

His panicked tone instantly makes me warm. It’s frustrating that I can never stay mad at him, but it makes things so much easier. We’ll have a little bicker, and then he gives me that sweet smile of his that’s my weakness, and we move on. Usually to fucking.

And that one argument helps us learn another piece about each other.

He appears, surrounded by steam, towel gripped at his waist, looking guilty as hell. “In my defense, if I didn’t lock the door at home, someone would always walk in. You try jerking off while your roommate is brushing his teeth right beside you.”

I cock my eyebrow. “You jerked off?”

“No, I don’t need to do that now. I’m saying I do it without thinking, and to stop doing it, I have to actively think about not doing it. Do you know how impossible that is?”

I kiss him, hook a finger in the front of his towel, and flick it open. The material drops to the floor.

“From now on, you can apologize by opening the door naked.”

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