Page 53 of No Save Point

He just chuckles, picking up his coffee again like this entire conversation was for his own personal entertainment.

We end up on the couch, sprawled out like last night didn’t happen, like nothing’s changed, like I didn’t just share this girl with my brother in the filthiest fucking way possible. Like I don’t want to do it again.

Haven leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over my stomach through my hoodie. It’s innocent. Soft. Normal.

And I’m fucking dying. Because I don’t know what this is supposed to be now.

If I’m allowed to hold her like this. If I’m allowed to want her like I do. If I’m allowed to fucking keep her.

Tate’s moping around, slamming cabinets in the kitchen, pacing back and forth in the hall, his mood dark but his mouth shut. He hasn’t said a word about last night. Not a single fucking thing. That’s worse than if he was running his mouth.

Because it means something got to him. I just don’t know what. Haven shifts slightly, curling into me more, sighing like she could fall asleep right here, right on me, like she’s completely comfortable being in my space. And then she kisses my neck. Soft. Barely there. I suck in a breath, my muscles locking up.

But she does it again. A slow, lingering press of her lips against my skin, warm and teasing, her fingers tightening against my stomach. I swear to fucking God, she’s going to kill me. I groan, low, quiet, barely controlled—but it doesn’t fucking matter.

Because Tate hears it. From the kitchen, where he’s been slamming cabinets and pretending not to sulk, he hears me. And it pisses him off. I can feel it before I even turn my head. The sharp shift in his energy, the way the air in the room changes, thickens, tightens around us like a vice. She fucking feels it too. Because she does it again.

Another kiss. Another slow drag of her lips against my skin. Another deliberate press of her mouth to the edge of my jaw.

Like she knows. Like she’s doing it just because Tate is here. Like she’s poking the bear on purpose.

I exhale hard, fighting against the way my body reacts, the way my cock twitches at the attention, the way my grip tightens on her waist like I’m trying to steady myself.

Yeah, he’s not taking it well. I hear it. The way his movements get sharper, heavier, more forceful.

The way his fists clench against the counter, his breathing controlled but just a little too slow. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Haven’s lips curve against my skin. Because she’s definitely not fucking kidding.

Tate finally makes his entrance, and of course, the first fucking thing out of his mouth is bullshit.

He steps into the living room, arms crossed, an easy smirk pulling at his lips as his eyes wandering between me and Haven. “Shouldn’t you be sore, little brother?” He tilts his head. “Or are you just that fucking needy?”

Haven snorts, pressing her face against my shoulder like she’s trying to muffle her laugh. I glare. “Go fuck yourself, Tate.”

Tate just chuckles, already turning on his heel, heading toward the stairs. “I would, but someone wore me out last night.” And with that he’s gone.

Haven lifts her head, watching as he disappears, her brown eyes still shining with amusement. “He’s truly something, you were right,” she mutters, shaking her head. “And chaotic as fuck.”

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, trying to ignore the way my cock is already hard again, aching for her, desperate to take whatever time we have left and use it to feel her one more time. But I don’t. I can’t. Because as much as I fucking want her, as much as my body is already screaming for her, this can’t just be about that. Not with her. I shift slightly, tugging her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting the weight of this moment settle into my chest. She means more, and I need her to know that.

25

Haven

The sound of Carter’s car fills the quiet between us, the faint crackle of my lo-fi playlist playing low through the speakers. The town blurs past outside my window, the sky bright, the afternoon sun hitting just right, making everything feel too… peaceful.

Carter’s one hand rests on the wheel, the other tapping against the gear shift like he’s lost in thought, like he’s still figuring out what to do with me now that I’m leaving. I should be doing the same. Instead, I pull out my phone, thumbs flying over the screen as I text Cassie.

Me:Still alive, don’t worry. Getting lunch with Carter

I hesitate before sending the next part.

Me:Might stay one more day.I stare at it for a second, wondering if it’s actually true, if I’m actually considering it, if I actually want to stay. I send it. Cassie’s response is instant.

Cassie:Get it, girl.I snort, shaking my head, but my stomach flips anyway. Because I don’t even know what ‘it’ is. Is it Carter? The guy who’s already found his way into my bones, the one who makes me feel safe and wild at the same time? Or is it Tate? The chaos in the background, the one who plays the devil on my shoulder, the one who gets under my skin and stays there? Or is it both? I lock my phone and shove it into my lap, exhaling slowly. I need to get out of my own head.

The diner is exactly what I expected. A little rundown, but in a charming way. The kind of place that has mismatched coffee mugs, faded menus, and a waitress who looks like she’s been here for decades. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon lingers in the air, and honestly? It’s perfect.

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