Page 118 of Entangled

The corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction, and he inclines his head.

You’re welcome.

Chapter29

Dominic

Survival tip #222

If you can’t band together,

then you’ll fall apart.

The meeting breaks up quickly as civilians start filtering inside. Heather hangs back to get them settled, and several women flock over to Lucky as Jasper leads Eden upstairs, talking to her in a low voice.

I only watch them for a second before Beau draws my attention, heading up the opposite staircase. Target acquired. This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since before Day Death, and it’s stupid that the first thing we’ve done is fight. I have a movie marathon, a bottle of whiskey, and his girlfriend all planned out for a date—just need to get the civs settled in first.

I find him in his room, throwing clothes onto his bed.

Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms. “Don’t be mad, honey. Just give me a chance to explain.”

Beau throws a boot behind him, and I need to swerve to stop it hitting me. I stare at it, then stifle a sigh. It’s going to be one ofthosefights.

I debate whether to go fix myself a coffee and come back to it later—coaxing Beau out of a stink like this is a long, painful process, and I’m already up to my ears in shit.

Sam only had two days of travel to get back to Cyanide from that camp. With all these civilians loading us down, it took us over a week to arrive at Bristlebrook. I don’t know how long it’ll take Sam to mobilize a force against us, but it’s possible he already has—and with the cameras compromised, we’re flying blind.

Coming off the gut-rip of losing Eden, tracking her, discovering Heather, and all my fucked-up civ baggage, I’m sapped. I might as well be a hollowed-out tree, and at this point, a strong wind is going to knock me over.

Maybe Jasper’s right and I need to give up more control.

But there’s only one person I’ve ever been able to do that with... and he’s throwing fucking shoes at me.

Beau turns abruptly, gathering up his clothes in a pile high enough to hide his face and walking past me to the door.

I follow, snagging up a sock as it drops.

“I’m not sleeping with her,” I tell him lazily.

Beau doesn’t like to fight. I need to approach this carefully or he’s going to slam down a silent treatment like a tank hatch.

I try to push down my exhaustion.

It’s harder to push down my disappointment.

I really just needed to see my best friend today.

He stops outside of Eden’s door, and I see the moment he realizes he’ll need to drop his clothes to open it... or ask me for help.

I lean against the wall beside the door, waiting. He stares at me, then dumps the clothes on the floor at his feet without dropping eye contact. Then he swings the door open with deliberate care, gathers up the clothes again, and brings them inside.

I roll my eyes to the ceiling, my teeth on edge. Patience. Find some damn patience.

As he comes back out, I grab his arm. “Are you listening? I’m not fucking Heather. Untwist your panties, would you?”

He wrenches it out of my grip, and gives me a hard-eyed, stubborn-as-shit look that tells me I can kiss any kind of reprieve from the swamp-ass last few weeks goodbye.

He comes back out of his room a minute later with his favorite pillow under his arm, the one that’s sucked in enough of his night-drool that it can probably be used for DNA tests two hundred years from now.

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