Page 24 of The Fates We Tame
He leans close, our faces inches apart. “Stay and have cake with me.”
“It’s very early in the morning for so much sugar.” His body is pressed against mine. I know there are other people in the room, and from the silence, I can only assume they are all listening to us intently, but I can’t bring myself to look away from Theo and check.
“We both nearly died, Soph. I think that makes it perfectly…” He shakes his head. “Fucking words. Makes it perfectly acceptable to live like we mean it from now on. Eat. The. Cake.”
“Fine,” I say, but the word is a little breathier than I intended.
Theo grins, then bites down on his lower lip. “Think I’m going to have fun corrupting you,” he says.
“I look forward to it,” I say without thinking.
His eyes narrow. Then he stands and helps me to my feet but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Brothers,” he says loudly. “Thisis Sophia. She”—he pauses for a moment—“makes this place bearable.”
There are words of welcome, and eventually the chatter returns to the levels it was at before I arrived.
I touch his temple. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugs. “Headache lasted until about two this morning. Feel hungover, to be fair.”
“What’s hungover?”
“You don’t know?”
“Amnesia, remember? I don’t remember things I’ve done. So, it takes it coming up in conversation. I didn’t know what pets were. Dr. Sharma kept talking about Micah being up all night, and I thought she had a child, but it turned out it’s a rather noisy pug.”
Theo chuckles at that. “A hangover is where you drink too much alcohol, and about twelve hours later, your body pays you back. Your head hurts, sometimes you’re sick.”
“You poison yourself?”
“How can you know what poison is but not know what a hangover is?”
“True crime mysteries have become my friend. But it sounds like that’s what a hangover is. A poisoning.”
He looks over at the bottles on the table. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit reckless.”
“How do you remember?”
“Because I’ve only lost the past decade, and I got into a whole lot of trouble before that.”
I glance at all the leather cuts in the room. “I can believe it.”
Saint reappears. “Meant no disrespect, Switch,” he says. “And sorry again, Sophia. Just me and Spark fooling around and didn’t see you behind us. You okay?”
“It’s okay. I’m good.”
He offers me his hand. “I’m Saint. Or Ryker. Use whatever makes you more comfortable.”
I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
A young woman, younger than he is, tucks herself under his arm. “And I’m Briar. Actually, Rose, but I’d really prefer it if you called me ‘Briar.’”
“I’m Sophia. Would love a cool second name. It feels like a secret identity.”
“Stick around long enough, and someone will give you one,” says a cute blonde with a baby bump and service dog.
“I’m Spark,” says the man standing next to her. “This is my old lady, Iris.”
The termold ladyrankles me a little, and I don’t know why. But from the way he looks at her as he speaks, I can see he adores her.
