Page 60 of No Save Point

Tate grins. “Yeah, we.”

I shake my head, sitting at the counter, watching the two of them fall into an effortless rhythm of bickering while Carter actually makes dinner and Tate pretends to help.

Honestly It’s kind of perfect. Just a quiet night, a home-cooked meal, and a moment where for once I don’t feel like I’m caught between them. I just feel like I’m here.

28

Carter

The living room is quiet, except for the low noise of the tv and the occasional clatter of silverware against plates. Haven is curled up at the end of the couch, balancing her plate on her lap, her bare feet tucked under her, looking so fucking comfortable here it makes something pulls in my chest.

Tate is sprawled in the armchair, legs kicked up on the coffee table, eating like he hasn’t had a real meal in days.

I’m somewhere in between. Between watching Haven out of the corner of my eye. Between pretending like I’m paying attention to the show she picked, and trying not to think about last night. Between trying not to think about how badly I want her again.A knock on the door pulls me out of thoughts.

I freeze mid-bite, exchanging a glance with Tate, whose brows tilt up in slight interest. Haven stops chewing, tilting her head. “You expecting someone?” she asks.

I swallow, setting my plate down. “No.”

Tate shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Guess you better find out who it is then.” I roll my eyes but push off the couch, making my way toward the door. The second I pull it open, I immediately regret it. Standing on my porch is Hunter. The last person I need showing up right now.

“Dude,” he grins, clapping a hand on my shoulder before I can say a word. “You’re alive.”

I blink. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hunter leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. “Came to check on you. You’ve been MIA all wee—.” His eyes wander past me, catching movement inside, and then he grins wider. “Oh, Ruth shit my bad.”

I turn, just in time to see Haven step into the hallway, plate still in her hand, curiosity in her eyes.

“Oh,” he says again, this time with way too much fucking meaning.

I exhale through my nose, already bracing for whatever the fuck is about to happen, before stepping aside and gesturing Hunter in. “Yeah, yeah, come in.”

Hunter grins, stepping past me and immediately locking eyes with Haven.

“So this is the famous Haven?” He gives a slow nod, eyes glancing between us, the knowing grin on his face making me want to shove him right back out the door. “Damn, dude. I get it now.”

Haven tilts her head slightly, offering a small smile. “And you’re Hunter?”

“In the flesh.” He extends a hand, and Haven shakes it, looking mildly amused at the way he’s openly sizing me up, like he’s assessing just how far gone I am for her. Before I can even attempt to steer the conversation into neutral territory, a snicker comes from the living room. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Oh, look,” Tate says, dragging out the words as he leans back into the couch, arms stretched across the top like he’s the king of the fucking castle. “It’s the local golden retriever handler, coming to check in. How precious.”

Hunter’s smile drops instantly. “Oh, great. The asshole brother is still an asshole.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, here we fucking go. Hunter and Tate never got along. Not since high school. Not since Tate got it in his head that Hunter was some obnoxious, too-good-to-be-true, moral compass type, and Hunter decided that Tate was a complete fucking menace to society. Neither of them has ever made an effort to prove the other wrong. Now, I get to deal with this bullshit under the same roof. Haven glances between them, lifting her brows, clearly sensing the shift in the air. “So, you two are… friends?”

Hunter lets out an actual laugh. “Nah, not even a little.”

Tate flashes a wicked grin. “You wound me, Hunty.”

Hunter ignores him completely, looking back at me. “I swear, I don’t know how you’ve lived with this dude for twenty-four years without committing a felony.”

“It’s a mystery,” I mutter, already exhausted.

Haven bites her lip like she’s trying not to laugh. This is about to be a long fucking night.

Hunter doesn’t need an invitation to make himself comfortable. The second he’s inside, he’s dropping down onto the couch, stretching his arms over the back, one leg kicking up onto the coffee table. He leans his head back against the cushion, glancing over at me with an easy smirk. “So, did you get that new PC set up, or am I about to be disappointed in you?”

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