Page 141 of Beautiful When He Breaks

Julian coughs into his fist, and I whirl on him. “You are in so much trouble.”

His eyebrows lift, and something warm and dangerous flashes in his eyes before he wisely buries it. “Later?”

My mouth drops open.

Ryan makes a wheezing sound, and Luca grabs him again on instinct, though this time he only hooks an arm around Ryan’s neck loosely rather than covering his mouth.

“Do not,” Luca says in his ear, “say whatever just entered your head.”

Ryan is vibrating with the effort of self-restraint. “I am showing so much growth right now.”

“You are one syllable away from death,” Luca tells him.

Julian moves closer to my side, and I expect him to rescue me because he loves me and should, theoretically, care about whether I survive the morning. Instead, he puts one hand lightly on the back of my neck and says, far too quietly for anyone else to hear, “You’re very cute when you’re mortified.”

His mouth is still doing that barely contained smile thing. I love him so much I might throw something at him. “Read the room,” I hiss.

“I am,” Julian murmurs. “It’s a good room.”

“It is a terrible room.”

His thumb moves once against my neck, and even mortified, even surrounded by idiots, my body reacts to the touch in a way that makes my face somehow hotter. Julian notices, because of course he does. His smile softens, and that is almost worse.

Adrian tilts his head slightly. “For clarity, the question wasn’t whether something was happening.”

My stomach drops because I know that tone. Adrian is about to be precise, and precision is not my friend right now.

“The question,” he continues mildly, “was when one of them would admit it without being forced by auditory evidence.”

I close my eyes again. “I hate all of you.”

Thorn’s grin turns downright wicked. “That sounds like confirmation.”

There’s no good way around it, is there? Everyone knows, suspected, or apparently had ears pressed spiritually to our walls for months. Last night gave them proof, maybe more proof than I would have liked, but the truth was already living in the room with us long before Ryan opened his massive mouth.

Julian and I are not a secret in any way that matters. Not from these people, maybe never from them. This house notices everything, then pretends badly until someone gets bored and detonates the pretense.

Julian looks at me, and I see the moment he decides.

“We’re together,” he says.

He says it so simply.

No hesitation, no apology, or joke shoved in front of the truth to make it easier to swallow. His hand is still at the back of my neck. Mila is still in my arms. My face is still hot enough to cook breakfast on, but Julian stands beside me and tells the house that we belong to each other in the only words the moment needs.

I smile before I can talk myself out of it. “Yeah,” I say, voice quieter than the room deserves. “We are.”

His face softens so completely that I almost forget to be embarrassed. All the ugly things are still there. They don’t vanish because he says we’re together. But the good thing doesn’t vanish either; it stands right there beside me.

“Thank fuck,” Ryan says, throwing both hands in the air. “Do you know how exhausting it’s been watching this slow-burn tragedy with cleats?”

Luca immediately grabs the back of his shirt and hauls him one step away from me. “Give them literally one second of sincerity.”

“I gave them fifteen seconds,” Ryan protests.

“You gave them seven.”

“Seven is generous in this economy.”