I grin, ducking into cover, catching sight of Haven across the map, her character moving with sharp, calculated precision, her reaction time so quick it’s ridiculous. The match plays out better than I expected, despite Tate absolutely losing his mind every time Haven manages to take him out. The back-and-forth between them has the chats going feral, messages scrolling so fast I can barely catch them, but it’s all good fun, or at least, it is for Haven.

Tate is taking it personal. By the time the final round ends, Haven sitting at the top of the leader board, he’s is slumped in his chair, arms crossed, mic muted for a good ten seconds before he finally exhales, the sound coming through my headset like pure defeat. “Alright, I’m out,” he grumbles, already clicking out of the lobby, not even giving us time to roast him for it. “Y’all have fun. I need a fucking nap.”

Haven laughs, the sound sending something warm through my chest. “Oh, is the goat tired?” she teases.

Tate snorts, already halfway off his setup. “Pretty, I swear to God, don’t start.” With that, he’s gone, his screen going dark, his presence disappearing from the call, leaving just the two of us sitting in the private lobby, the silence settling in easier than I thought it would.

I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms over my head, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Damn,” I murmur, watching the scoreboard flash on my screen. “You really did smoke him.”

Haven grins through her mic, her voice filled with that smug satisfaction that makes my lips twitch. “Did you ever doubt me?”

Not for a fucking second.

41

Haven

The sound of Cassie’s disbelief crackles through my phone speaker as I tuck it between my ear and shoulder, one hand smoothing out the comforter on my bed while the other adjusts the books on my nightstand. “I still can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

I laugh, “Cass, it’s been a month.” “A month of you being in some kind of unhinged, forbidden, small-town love triangle with two incredibly hot, incredibly built, incredibly related men.” She huffs, and I can practically hear her shaking her head. “Haven, this isn’t normal.”

I roll my eyes, kneeling down to pick up a stray hoodie from the floor, tossing it onto my chair, my fingers automatically reaching to fix the pillows on my bed, making sure everything is at least semi-presentable before they get here.

“It’s not a love triangle,” I correct, even though, fuck, maybe it kind of is?

“Oh, no?” Cassie drawls, full of skepticism. “So you’re telling me you don’t have two insanely hot twin brothers wrapped around your finger, both completely obsessed with you, both willing to do literally anything to keep you happy?”