Page 103 of Kneel with the King
Asher
Two WeeksLater
The tiny human I’m holding begins to emit a foul-smelling scent, and as I hold my nephew away from me, Ava reaches for him, wrinkling her nose.
“Someone has a dirty diaper,” she coos, cuddling Ezra close to her chest before walking him toward my guest room like it’s an honor to be dealing with baby poop.
I’m gladsomeonehas parental instincts, because over the last few days, I have learned that I absolutely do not ever want kids of my own.
Ari is sprawled on my couch with a mug of coffee, one leg slung over the armrest, scrolling through something on her phone. Maddox is in my kitchen, rearranging my fridge for reasons I still don’t understand. But… taking care of people is his love language, so if he wants to organize my expired condiments, then so be it.
He mutters an expletive as he begins to wash out an old jar of pickles.
“This is my apartment, you know,” I tell him. “I’m more than capable of cleaning my own refrigerator.”
“That’s news to me,” he replies sarcastically.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but I can’t help the small smile playing at my lips.
“I’m just saying, you’re doing a terrible job of stocking it,” he says without looking up. “No milk, no eggs, no actual food unless you count eight bottles of sparkling water and half a jar of Dijon mustard.”
“I like sparkling water,” I mutter.
“And clearly you were planning on surviving on it.”
It’s easier than I expected, falling into this rhythm with them again. Ari’s sarcasm, Maddox’s bossiness—it used to grate on me in a way that made me want to keep my distance. When they spontaneously decided to come visit me, I agreed to let them stay here. It’s a large three-bedroom, which means Ava and Spencer also made the trip down from Boston.
Apparently my Tribeca apartment was the perfect place for a Clarke family reunion.
It’s funny, though. I was hesitant, but somehow… it’s been okay. Ezra is a good distraction. He’s nine months old and starting to pull himself up on my very-not-babyproofed furniture. I suppose he’s cute, and it’s been nice seeing my twin brother in his role as a dad.
Plus, things with Ari aren’t as awkward as I thought they’d be. She’s still the same feisty, little nightmare that I dated a couple of years ago, but I get it now. I can see the way she looks at Maddox, and the way he worships the ground she walks on.
Somehow, having them here feels like home in a way I didn’t realize I’d missed.
Minus Spencer, who is sitting in one of my armchairs, watching everything unfold with a scowl.
I don’t think he knows how to smile. I’m sure sleeping on my couch hasn’t been fun, either.
Maddox shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, watching me over the breakfast bar. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”
“I live alone. I forgot how loud you all are.”
Ari smirks from the couch. “I think you secretly love it.”
I don’t answer, because I do love it. And because silence right now feels dangerous—it gives my mind room to wander, to drift back to snowy cabins and the smell of cedar, to the heat of King’s breath against my skin and the way he looked at me like he was never pretending.
Truth be told, having them here has been the perfect distraction for me.
The bonus is that whatever fallout was left over from my breakup with Ari seems to have settled, floating away into dust. It’s… nice.
Plus, Ava convinced me to host everyone. I’m pretty sure this was all a part of some grand plan to reunite us all, even if she’d never admit it. Her and I have been talking on the phone every night before she arrived, and she’s basically my unpaid therapist at this point.
The first call, I ranted to her for four hours straight. I told her about King’s ego, about how he blindsided me at the retreat, about how he didn’t fight me when I walked away. She hummed in that maddeningly calm way of hers and finally said,“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t sound this worked up.”
The second call, she asked,“Are you angry because he lied, or because he told the truth you didn’t want to hear?”
By the third, I was pacing my apartment with the lights off, clutching the phone like it might give me answers.“I can’t stop thinking about him,”I admitted, my voice breaking in a way Ihated.“It’s like he got under my skin, and I don’t know how to let him stay there without it wrecking me.”
