Page 148 of Lighting the Lamp
“Did we just break the kitchen with our moral character?”
He tries to swallow the laugh, but fails spectacularly. Beau takes a step back so I can slide down his body. My feet hit the floor, and both of us survey the damage like it’s an art installation titledTwo Idiots In Love.
“Okay,” I breathe, hands on hips, willing my pulse to behave. “Add call contractor to the list.”
“And a sturdier island,” he says, straight-faced. “For… prep.”
“Prep,” I echo, pretending very hard not to flush. “Noted.”
He puts both hands on my waist again, tugging me close like the crack is an inconvenience, not a stop sign. “We can keep?—”
The front door swings open, and I jerk back like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Beau follows suit, stepping away from me, guilt written all over his face.
“Don’t mind me. Just checking if you two remembered you weren’t doing this alone.” Kyle strolls in, cap tugged low, cardboard box in his arms. He sets it on the counter beside the cracked slab and whistles. “Wow. You’ve been moved in for what… two hours? And you already broke the place.”
Beau pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kyle.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he cuts in, grin turning lethal. “Everyone’s right behind me.”
Sure enough, the door bangs open wide, and the rest pile in. Cooper with a few six-packs, Cole with a cooler, Ramona and Michele juggling grocery bags, and Darius carrying a random lamp like he’s already over it.
“We forgot.”
“You forgot us,” Cooper says, kissing the top of my head on his way by. “Not a great start, sis.”
The word hits differently than it used to. They’ve jokingly called me sis for years, a word tossed over my shoulder at games or family dinners like a badge I hadn’t quite earned. Back then, it always felt like a tease, something borrowed that could be taken away if the wind shifted. But now, it lodges in my chest, heavy and warm, like it belongs.
Beau’s arm slides around my waist. This house already echoes with Hendrix chaos—boxes, laughter, someone dropping something in the hall—and my ribs ache from how full it feels. It doesn’t feel borrowed anymore. It doesn’t feel like I’m playing dress-up in their family. It feels inevitable.
“Don’t call me sis,” I mutter out of habit, though my throat is tight with something softer, something dangerously close to tears.
Cooper just smirks, eyes gleaming with a knowing look. “Just waiting on this knucklehead to make it official.”
“Working on it,” he mutters, voice rough enough that it slides straight under my skin, then tightens his arm around me.
The brothers howl. Kyle elbows Cole like they’ve won some bet I didn’t know they made. I roll my eyes, but my heart trips over itself. Even if he said it to shut them up, I can feel the truth humming in him, steady as the hand holding mine.
Kyle deposits his box on the counter, grinning like trouble. “All right, where’s my room?”
“Yourwhat?” I whip toward Beau, his eyes flicking to the side.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Kyle sprawls against the counter like he owns the place, smirk widening. “You two signed up for Hendrix chaos the second you signed the lease. Might as well let your favorite brother break the place in properly.”
Cole lets out a whistle. “Dead man walking.”
“Certified trouble,” Cooper adds, clinking his beer like a toast to Beau’s execution.
Beau leans down, kissing my temple like it’ll smooth the storm. “I said he could crash here for a little while. I was going to talk to you about it…”
“When? After he claimed the basement?”
“I’m sorry. Forgive me?” he whispers, nibbling along the curve of my neck.
“You don’t get to kiss your way out of this,” I snap, though my pulse betrays me, still racing from the brush of his mouth.
Cole whistles low, like he’s sitting front row for the execution. “He’s doomed.”
“Please,” Cooper drawls, not missing a beat. “I call dibs on his eulogy. Three words will cover it: tragic, stupid, predictable.”
