Page 50 of The Flavor of Us

I’m here, Tati. I’m not going anywhere.

At some point, Ryder manages to sneak a pillow into one of the shopping bags after Tati spends a good five minutes cooing over it. It’s obnoxiously soft, with pastel colors that remind me of cotton candy. When she realizes it’s hers, she hugs it to her chest, her face lighting up like Ryder handed her the moon.

“She’s never letting that thing out of her sight,” I mutter to Ryder, who just chuckles low in his chest, his blue eyes soft with something warm and fond as he watches her.

“She deserves nice things,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

It’s strange, being here with them—these three people who are so unlike me, so open with their affection, so comfortable in their own skin. But it doesn’t feelwrong.

It feels…good.

And then we pass by the perfume shop.

The storefront is small and intimate, warm lighting spilling out onto the sidewalk. Ashton practically drags Tati inside whileRyder holds the door open for me, his hand resting briefly on the small of my back as I walk past him.

The air inside is thick with floral and musky notes, bottles lining every shelf in jewel-toned glass that catches the light.

Tati is in herelement.

She flits from display to display, picking up bottles, sniffing them, wrinkling her nose, then grinning when she finds one she likes. Ashton stays close, arms crossed over his chest as he watches her with an amused little smile. Ryder, meanwhile, moves deeper into the store, his attention sharp as he scans the shelves like he’s hunting for something specific.

And me?

I linger by the front counter, running my fingertips along the edge of a glass display. It’s Ryder who finds me first. He comes up beside me, close enough that his arm brushes against mine. His hand finds mine naturally, like he’s done it a thousand times before. His palm is warm, his fingers strong but gentle as they twine with mine.

I should pull away. I shouldsaysomething. But I don’t. I let him hold me, let myself lean into him slightly. His thumb brushes softly over the back of my hand, and I feel my shoulders relax, just a fraction. “Carleen,” he says softly, his deep voice a low rumble in the space between us. I glance up at him and there’s something steady andcertainin his blue eyes, like he’s already decided that this—us—is going to work. “It’s okay to let go,” he murmurs.

Tati appears a few minutes later, three bottles cradled in her arms like precious gems. Her hazel eyes are bright, her smile wide as she holds them out for me to see. Ryder squeezes my hand once before letting go, stepping back slightly as Tati skips toward the counter to pay. Ashton sidles up to me, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “See? Food, perfume, pillows—what more could a pack need?”

I huff out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insufferable.”

“But youloveit,” Ashton says, his grin positively wicked.

Tati finishes paying, the bottles tucked carefully into a small velvet bag, and we step back out onto the street, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting everything in shades of gold and pink.

The ride home is full of soft laughter and easy chatter, the kind that feels so natural it makes me ache a little. Tati’s nestled between Ashton and me in the back seat while Ryder drives, his sharp blue eyes focused on the road ahead. Ashton’s arm is draped lazily across the back of the seat, fingers occasionally brushing over Tati’s shoulder as he throws out some ridiculous comment that makes her giggle.

The perfume bag is still clutched tightly in Tati’s lap, her fingers grazing over the velvet like she’s holding something sacred. I can’t help but glance at it, curiosity getting the better of me.

“So, Tati,” I say softly, tilting my head toward her. “Why three perfumes?”

Her head snaps up, wide hazel eyes locking onto mine as a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“They… they smell like you guys,” she mumbles, her voice barely above a whisper.

I blink. “Like us?”

She nods, glancing down at the bottles in her lap before continuing. “Yeah. I picked them because they remind me of your scents. Ryder’s smells like bourbon, Ashton’s is all citrus and spice, and yours, Carleen…” She looks up at me again, her voice soft. “Yours smells like peaches. Like fresh ones, right off the tree after a good summer rain.”

My chest tightens and I can feel Ryder’s gaze flicking up to the rearview mirror, watching her carefully. Tati clutches thebag closer to her chest, her voice dropping even lower. “I want them in my nest. I want your scents around me when you’re not there.”

Ashton makes a soft sound—something between a hum and a sigh—as he leans closer to her. “That’s… really sweet, little doe.”

Ryder doesn’t say anything, but I can see the way his hands tighten slightly on the wheel, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

“That’s a beautiful thing, Tati,” I say softly, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Her face lights up, and it’s like watching the sun break through clouds after a storm. The rest of the drive is light—Ashton teasing Ryder about his ‘serious driver face,’ Tati humming softly along with the faint music playing through the speakers, and Ryder throwing in the occasional dry remark that makes Ashton snort.

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