Page 14 of Reaper & Ruin
Atlas, not to be outdone in doing stuff for me, grabbed a blanket from the armrest and draped it over my shoulders with his usual gentleness.
“You look cold; do you want a bigger fire?” He asked before taking a seat in the armchair opposite me. His gaze stayed on me, as if he were mentally cataloging every tiny twitch and breath. Knowing Atlas, he was doing just that.
Shaking my head, I took a sip of coffee—it was perfect, of course—and poked at the salad with my fork. The lettucecrunched just right, the dressing was perfectly balanced, and the croutons were golden little bites of happiness. “You guys are acting suspiciously nice,” I said between bites, glancing between them. “Should I be worried you think I’m more mentally unwell than usual?”
“Not at all,” Gio said breezily. “This is what we do every day. You just think more of it because you are coming out of your hibernation. No doubt you need an argument or sassy remark to feel more of yourself. Your sarcasm levels are probably dangerously low.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smile tugging at my lips, at the warmth seeping through my chest I didn’t understand. I thought they were called feelings. But I wasn’t sure how they worked, so I pretended they weren’t real.
“The Heather consumes the meal cautiously, still wary of the outpouring of affection,”I mumbled between bites.“Notice how the males maintain a non-threatening posture, their voices soft and encouraging. As though they too think she is mentally unwell.”
Neither man said anything as we ate, even though they continued to stare. It wasn’t until I was full and pushed my empty plate away with a shiver that anyone moved.
Gio suddenly leaned forward, his expression shifting from smug to serious. “Your hair’s still wet,” he said, like this was the most tragic news he’d ever delivered. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“It’s fine,” I said, waving him off. “I’ll survive death—I always do. I’mlucky.”
The nickname was not one I enjoyed hearing anymore. Not when those who used it were gone from me. So it was safe to say it left my lips with a healthy dose of poison.
“No, you won’t; you’re too sweet for death not to want you,” he insisted, already standing and grabbing a brush from the coffee table. “Come here.”
I blinked at the mafia man holding a hairbrush like a weapon. “What are you doing? I donotconsent to anything weird.”
“Fixing your hair,” he said, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. “You’re not spending the day with damp and unruly curls.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You know how to do hair? But you are just a boy. A soft, empty, snarky boy.”
He scoffed, his hand resting on his hip in a way that was almost theatrical. “Heather, I have five sisters. If I didn’t know how to do hair by now, I’d be excommunicated from the family.”
Snorting, I leaned back against the couch cushions. “Fine. But if you make me look like a poodle, I’m haunting you forever.”
“Deal,” he grinned, as he hurried to stand behind me and brush out the knots on my mop head.
“The Heather submits to grooming, a rare and intimate ritual among her species,” I whispered, suppressing a laugh. “Notice how the dominant male handles her with expert precision, his technique honed through years of dealing with more cooperative subjects who are not likely to stab him for fun.”
The brush moved steadily, smoothing out knots I hadn’t even realized were there. Gio’s hands were warm, his touch firm but not rough. It was…nice. Annoyingly nice, seeing as his ego was high enough without extra compliments from me.
I leaned further into the cushions, letting the rhythm of his movements lull me into a state of semi-relaxation. Atlas watched quietly from his armchair, his expression unreadable. Occasionally, he’d glance at the muffin I still hadn’t touched, like he was mentally willing me to eat it.
“I’m not going to break, you know,” I said suddenly, my voice softer than I’d intended. “This isn’t the same as it was the first time. I was dealing with a broken heart for two people whenI thought you were guilty, Gio. This time it’s only for Missy and I can handle it well enough to keep going.”
Gio paused for half a second before resuming his brushing. “We know,” he said, his tone light. “But you don’t have to hold yourself together all the time, either. Sometimes you can rot for days on end, then you can let us take care of you when you’re done. This is fine for us, Heather. That is what boyfriends do.”
Atlas nodded. “We just want to make sure you’re okay,malyshka.That’s all I care about, and there is no shame in you feeling less human than normal.”
The warmth in their words settled somewhere deep in my chest, a quiet reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed. I stared at the coffee table, my thoughts flickering between grief and gratitude.
I reckoned round two of my revenge mission was going to be better than the first, for another reason. One bigger than having two large, feisty men on my team.
I wasn’talone. I was loved and cared for. It was easier to be a human when I knew that.
“Look, no more knots,” Gio said, his voice pulling me back to the moment. He set the brush down and hurried to grab my hairdryer from the bathroom.
I blinked up at him as Atlas changed seats, picking the one beside me so he could feed me bites of muffin.
“Are you going to burn my head off now?” I teased as Gio flicked the dryer on.
He snorted, and I let myself relax a little more, the tension in my shoulders easing with each pass of his hand, and each nibble of delicious muffin.
