Page 34 of If You Go
“Guess I did.” I shrug. “Siren fits better, though. But you didn’t answer the question.”
She exhales and sets her fork down, shoulders slumping. “I’m just … nervous. I won’t feel better until my parents, Samuel, and Selene let me know what’s happening. I have no idea what’s going on out there. What Gavin’s doing. Where he is. It scares me.”
Her voice trembles on that last word. I feel it more than I hear it, like something sinking its claws into my chest.
“I get that,” I tell her. “But you still need to eat. You can’t run on fear.” I reach under the table and give her upper thigh a gentle squeeze, just enough to ground her. “How about I see if Corver’s heard anything? Would that help?”
She looks at me, her eyes bright and tired all at once, and nods. “Yeah. I … I’d like that.” She spears a small piece of salmon and finally eats it.
“Good girl.” The words slip out before I can stop them, low enough that only she hears. Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away.
I pull my phone out beneath the table, thumb hovering over the screen. The message I send to Corver is quick, coded, the way we always do it when things might be watched.
A moment later, my phone buzzes once. I glance at it, then set it down beside my plate.
I lean closer to her, close enough that my breath brushes her hair. I tell her everything Corver texts me, keeping my eyes on her facial expression the entire time.
Her shoulders sag with relief, and she closes her eyes for a beat, whispering, “Thank God.” When she looks at me again, the tension in her face has softened.
Apparently, when my girl is stressed, she doesn’t eat. So I make a quiet promise right then—I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she never starves herself with worry again.
She picks up her fork and starts eating in small bites, the color returning to her cheeks. I can’t help the chuckle that slips out. “There we go. Knew you had an appetite in there somewhere.” I give her thigh another squeeze. “Just make sure you don’t get too full, Siren. There’s still plenty for us to do tonight, and I can’t have you in a food coma.”
Her lips curve into that dangerous smirk I love. “Oh, trust me,” she murmurs, her voice dipping low, “I won’t be falling asleep. There’s plenty I still want to do too.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me—low, quiet, rougher than I meant it to be. The kind that makes her breath catch again. The table noise fades into the background. All I see is her. The sunlight catches the loose strands of her hair, painting them a warm golden color. Her pulse beats visibly in her throat. The whole world could end outside this compound, and I wouldn’t care.
I lean closer until our foreheads almost touch. “Careful, Siren,” I whisper, my mouth just a breath from hers. “Say things like that and I might forget we’re not alone.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “Maybe I want you to forget.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I tilt her chin up with my thumb and forefinger and kiss her, slow at first, then deeper when she sighs against my mouth. It’s not the frantic kind of kiss we had before—it’s steadier, claiming, a promise I don’t even bother trying to hide. She tastes like wine and salt and something sweet I can’t name.
We haven’t done more than explore with my hands and minds since we have been here. So I am dying to taste her again.
And of course, that’s when the peanut gallery around us loses their minds.
“Jesus Christ, can we not have a live porno at the dinner table?” Joshua’s voice cuts through the noise, half-amused, half-brotherly disgust. “At least wait ‘til dessert, yeah?”
Richie slaps the table, howling with laughter. “Oh, let ‘em! It’s about time someone broke in the new dining set. Been lookin’ too damn polished anyway.” He winks at us as Bridget swats his arm, muttering something aboutmannersandheathensunder her breath.
Alisha gasps theatrically. “Richie!”
“What? I’m just sayin’, they’ve got chemistry.” He leans back in his chair, smirking. “You can practically feel it vibrate off ‘em. Hell, I think my beer fizzed.”
Juniper chimes in next, stirring her drink with her straw. “Careful, Richie. Keep talking like that and you’ll be the next one blushing.”
“I don’t blush, sweetheart,” he fires back, grin widening and a glint growing in his eyes. His eyes shift to Gunnar and Josh before winking at them.
“You do now,” she quips, earning another round of laughter from the table.
Surry pulls back, cheeks pink and eyes wide, but she’s smiling—really smiling. The kind that reaches her eyes and softens every sharp edge she’s been holding onto. I swipe my thumb across her bottom lip, catching a faint trace of her lip gloss, and murmur, “worth it.”
“Alright, you two,” Joshua says, shaking his head, “if you’re gonna keep makin’ heart eyes, at least take it somewhere with a lock on the door.”
“Gladly,” I shoot back, standing and taking Surry’s hand. She looks at me like she can’t decide whether to laugh or hide under the table, but she lets me pull her up beside me anyway.
Richie raises his beer. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
