And then Haven looks at me. She smiles, soft, like she wasn’t just sitting here drinking coffee with my asshole brother, like she wasn’t just part of the most insane night of my entire fucking life. There’s something quiet in her eyes, like she sees it all, like she knows I’ve been holding my breath since the second I walked into this room.

She sets her mug down. Stands. Takes one small step forward. And then she kisses me. Like she’s offering an anchor instead of an apology. Like she wants to remind me she’s still mine, even after all of it.

It works. Leaning in, pressing her lips against mine, slow, easy, warm, like this is just another morning. The tension in my chest eases just a little, my hands finding her waist, my head still swimming but my body already reacting to her touch. She pulls back, her brown eyes climbing up to mine, a question in them that I don’t know how to answer yet.

So instead I exhale, grounding myself, and say the only thing I can. “What do you wanna do today?”

Haven hesitates. Her fingers fidget with the rim of her coffee cup, her lips pressing together like she doesn’t want to say what she’s about to say.

And I already hate it. She sighs, finally looking up at me. “I have to leave before the evening.”

My stomach drops, a weight settling in my chest before she even explains.

“Cassie’s been blowing up my phone, wondering where the hell I am.” She lets out a small, breathy laugh, but I can tell it’s forced. “I kinda ghosted her.”

I don’t like how fast time is running out. Tate just shrugs, sipping his coffee like he doesn’t give a shit either way. I need more. I need something before she walks out of my house, out of my town, out of my reach. So I shift closer, leaning against the counter, keeping my voice light, casual, like I’m not trying to make her stay longer than she already planned. “Then let’s go out for lunch,” I offer, watching for her reaction, waiting for any excuse she might come up with.

She tilts her head, studying me, her expression unreadable. I push forward. “And maybe after, you can help me set up my new PC.”

That gets her. I see it, the way her lips part just slightly, the way her fingers stop tapping against her cup, the way the idea of it sparks something behind her eyes.

So I go in for the kill. “That way,” I murmur, “when you get back home… we can game together.”

She swallows. Slow. Like she’s already considering it. And fuck, I hope she does.