Page 37 of Scr*wed By the Minotaur in Hallow's Cove
She padded over in bare feet, pillow under one arm, and plopped down at the table where I’d already put out mismatched plates and a six-pack of local cider.
“You’re hiding something.” She poked my chest, hard. “Spill.”
I took a deep, bracing breath. “What if I said I wanted you to move in with me?” I blurted, the words tumbling out before I could sand off the rough edges.
She blinked, mouth forming a perfect O, then squinted at me like I’d just suggested we adopt a baby capybara and raise it on bug spray and old pizza crusts.
“Move in?” she repeated. “Like… move in together,together?”
“Yeah,” I said, and a whole platoon of nerves ignited. “Like, officially. Not just your underwear in my drawer, but your name on the deed, your shampoo in the shower, your takeout preferences permanently logged in my phone.”
She blinked, then started to laugh, a hiccupy, incredulous cackle that doubled her over the table. “Wow. Is this your premeditated murder-suicide plan, or are you just really into communal bills?”
I faked offense, but only just. She held up a hand to pause me, catching her breath.
“Okay, okay, I need a minute to process this.” She wandered to the window, looking out over the roofline of Main Street like she was hoping for a sign—maybe a rainbow, maybe a flaming comet. “If I move in,” she said, not turning around, “do I get half the closet, or is this one of those ‘all your stuff goes in the garage’ situations?”
“Full half,” I said. “Even the shelves. I’ll clear out the power tools.”
She turned then, eyes bright and wide, mouth quirked in that sly way that always made my knees go a little weak. “But what if,” she said, stepping close enough to bump my hip with hers, “instead of me moving in, we knock down the wall between our places and just… make one giant space?”
I blinked. “You want to demo the wall?”
She grinned, delight radiating off her like summer heat. “Think about it. Why not? We could make a monster-sizedkitchen, or a studio, or—hell, even a greenhouse if we get ambitious and Randy owes you another favor.”
It was so her, to meet a proposal with a contrarian, impossible escalation. And it was so us, that my first response wasn’t to say no, but to start immediately scheming how we could do it. What load bearings we’d need, how to reroute the wiring, whether we could keep the original crown molding if we just reinforced the span with a steel beam. I let the idea bloom in my head, and within seconds I was already invested.
“I know a guy,” I said, voice deadpan.
She giggled, and I realized that was exactly what I’d wanted—not just for her to say yes, but for her to say yes in her own way, to meet my crazy with her own. We grinned at each other, two idiots in love, and I reached for her hand across the table.
“Deal,” I said. “Let’s build a life we can’t escape from.”
“Even if it kills us,” she replied, squeezing my fingers.
“Especially if it kills us,” I said, and she laughed again, pure and unfiltered.
We ate our sushi on the couch, then fell asleep watching a documentary about beekeeping.
Epilogue
Lea
Iwokeuptothe strange sensation of moving through the world without my own permission. The room was dark, the air cool, and I was floating—no, carried—cradled against a chest that thudded steady as a drum. My arms dangled at odd angles, my cheek pressed to something warm and flannel. I squinted, disoriented, at the blur of ceiling and doorframes gliding past, then finally zeroed in on Rick’s voice, soft and low as a radio turned down for the night.
“You good?” he murmured, shifting me higher in his arms as he shouldered open the bedroom door with his back. I realized then that I was being princess-carried, like a swoony heroine in a romance novel, except I was drooling a little and my legs were a deadweight tangle.
He eased me onto the bed, and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or object, so I did both at once. “What are you doing?”
Rick propped his fists on his hips, grinning like a kid who’d just planted the flag on the moon. “Relocating you to the official residence. Didn’t want to risk you getting lost in the hallways.”
“The official residence?” I tried to sit up, but flopped back, weak with sleep and laughter. “You mean, your room?”
He smirked. “Our room. If you’re still willing.”
I didn’t bother to answer. I just hooked my arm around his neck and dragged him down with me, flattening my body against his, the delicious, impossible weight of him knocking the last of my sleep away. His mouth was warm, insistent, and in seconds I was awake in every cell, hands already snaking under his shirt, greedy for skin.
He made a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan, and I gasped into his mouth, the heat of him lighting up every nerve ending in my body. He peeled off his shirt, tossing it to the floor, then skimmed my dress up over my hips and yanked it free, leaving me in nothing but panties and the bralette I’d thrown on that morning. He paused, eyes hungry, then ran his hands over my ribs like he was mapping new territory, every inch worshipful.
