Page 54 of They All Own Me

"Shit, these are good." Isaac devours his stack while checking his phone. "Thomas just posted about heading to his 'much-needed spiritual retreat' this weekend. To find some internal peace in hopes it may help in locating his dear Tatum."

I snort. "Spiritual retreat? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"His exact words on Instagram," Dom confirms between bites. "Complete with prayer hands emoji."

"What a tool." I start cleaning up, trying to keep my hands steady as Dom and Isaac finish their breakfast and begin gather the rest of their things. It's weird how quickly I've gotten used to having all three of them around.

"We'll check in every few hours," Dom says, shouldering his bag. "Connor, you know the drill."

Connor grunts in acknowledgment, still nursing his coffee.

"Be careful, okay?" The words slip out before I can stop them. I busy myself wiping down the already clean counter, avoiding eye contact.

Isaac's laugh rings through the kitchen. "Well I'll be, is someone worried about us dangerous criminals?"

"Maybe I just don't want to be stuck alone with broody over here." I gesture toward Connor, who rolls his eyes behind his coffee mug.

"I'm not broody, I'm focused," Connor mutters.

Dom steps closer to me, his presence making my hands still on the counter. "We'll be fine. This isn't our first rodeo."

I look up, meeting his intense gaze. The memory of the plane ride flashes between us, electric and unspoken. My throat tightens. "Just... don't do anything stupid. I know Thomas - he may be an idiot, but he's a paranoid idiot."

"Aww, she really does care," Isaac teases, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Don't worry, lady. We'll keep your boyfriend in one piece."

Dom shoots Isaac a look that could freeze hell over. What the hell? Do I have I slept with your fearless leader tattooed on my forehead?

"We'll be on our best behavior," Dom says softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Promise."

The weight of everything unsaid hangs heavy in the air between us. I manage a nod, forcing myself to step back. "Good. Because if anything happens to either of you, I'm stuck eating Connor's terrible cooking."

"What the hell!" Connor protests, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice.

I watch from the window as they load up the car, my stomach doing that annoying flip thing it does whenever Dom's nearby. The engine starts, and just like that, they're gone.

The kitchen falls silent except for Connor's coffee mug hitting the counter. Just me and the quiet one for the next few days. This should be interesting.

Two hours crawl by. I've reorganized the spice rack twice and Connor's been typing away at his laptop, occasionally glancing my direction when he thinks I'm not looking.

"Fuck this shit," Connor finally says, closing his laptop. "I'm going stir crazy."

"Same." I stretch out on the couch, my t-shirt riding up slightly. "I've counted all the ceiling tiles. Twice."

"Want to grab a pizza?" He runs a hand through his messy black hair. "There's this place about twenty minutes from here. Best deep dish in Connecticut."

I bolt upright. "Real pizza? Not like veggie pizza?"

"The greasiest, most unhealthy pizza you can imagine." His lip ring catches the light as he smirks. "Complete with actual carbs."

"Oh my god, yes." I'm already heading for the stairs. "Give me five minutes to change."

"Grab a wig," he calls after me. "And bring a hoodie - we need to keep you somewhat incognito."

"Should I bring a trash bag to cover my head? Like when you kidnapped me?" I yell back, earning a low chuckle.

"That was not a damn trash bag. Just… hurry up before I change my mind about taking you out in public."

"You sound just like my husband," I tease, "minus the part where you're actually willing to be seen with me in public."

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