Page 76 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Me or Hunter?” Beau asks without looking at Emmett.

“Both of you.”

“Whoa, what did I do?” Hunter demands, as if it’s totally understandable for Emmett to be randomly pissed off at Beau, but couldn’t possibly be randomly pissed off at him. I’m starting to sweat. My stomach feels like I swallowed a rock.

“You slept with her,” Emmett says shortly.

“And?” Beau finally turns around, meeting Emmett’s eyes evenly. I can’t imagine being so bold.

Emmett’s beard bristles and his eyes gleam with something I can’t identify. Fury? Jealousy? I can’t tell, but fuck, I wish I could because this not knowing is undoing me in the worst kind of way.

“And I didn’t,” he says finally.

Beau looks at Hunter. “He’s still got a good grasp of the facts.”

“Yes,” Hunter agrees. “But I’m afraid he must be delusional. Emmett, you hate sleeping with other people.”

Emmett glares down into his coffee and the back of his neck turns a shade of red I’ve never seen on him. “It’s not fair,” he mutters.

“Fair? Is this one of those fair-or-equitable arguments? Dude, having your own space is your whole thing!” Beau half-laughs.

Half-laughs. I check Hunter’s expression. He’s baffled, but not defensive. He seems almost amused. How? How are they so blasé about Emmett’s mood?

Emmett’s shoulders stiffen and his chin goes up with a defiant bristle. “I might have changed my mind.”

Hunter laughs. Actually laughs. Emmett huffs, his shoulders dropping, and he buries himself in his coffee. Beau grins and shakes his head.

“Might have? Look at you, going soft.”

“Soft as your head,” Emmett mutters back.

Hunter grins and winks at me. Relief rolls off my shoulders so hard and fast that I have to fight to hide my smile. It makes me a little dizzy, honestly, and I’m still trying to get caught up. I take a breath and take stock of where I’m standing.

Emmett is sulky, but he’s not weaponizing it. Hunter is gently poking at him, teasing him for being a big old softy underneath his hardened exterior. Beau is steadily fixing his coffee, doing nothing to soothe Emmett’s ego. I’m still standing, still in one piece, still safe. My ears ring. I feel like I just stood in the eye of a tornado only to find out that it was just a stiff breeze. My knees buckle.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Emmett grumbles.

I meekly do as he says, sitting in my usual spot at the table. It’s the seat nearest him with a corner between us.

“Morning,” he says. “Didn’t say it right before.”

I smile at him tentatively. “Morning.”

He nods firmly as if everything that needed to be said has been said. Meanwhile, my pulse is still a little elevated and my mouth is still a little dry. I wet it with a sip of coffee and let the normalcy of the morning routine settle around me. Hunter’s cooking. Beau’s getting out the dishes. Emmett is steadily drinking his coffee, and even though the back of his neck is still a little flushed, his shoulders are back down in their natural position and his eyebrows aren’t hulking down over his eyes anymore.

Everything is okay. I breathe that knowledge in through my nose and out through my mouth, letting it flow into my tight chest and release the tension there. Hunter plates up the food. Beau helps pass it out. Now I have a pile of breakfast in front of me, Emmett to my right, Hunter to my left, and Beau across from me. Just like every morning. Like my bubble didn’t almost pop. Like nothing bad came close to happening.

It takes me until the middle of the meal to decide that maybe it didn’t. Maybe conflict doesn’t mean destruction in this house. Maybe the little teasing jabs and muttered confessions and dry humor are as far as the problem ever gets. With Preston, a mood like Emmett’s would have lasted days. It would have been silence and cold shoulders and the slow, suffocating withdrawal of affection until I apologized for something I didn’t do. Here, it lasted twenty minutes and ended with a gruff “morning” and a head nod. My spine unwinds slowly, vertebra by vertebra, and I re-engage with the guys. I’ve been out of it long enough.

“How’d you sleep?” Hunter asks.

“Like a baby,” I answer honestly. “I don’t think bear cubs are as safe as I was last night.”

Hunter smiles proudly. “Not half as safe,” he confirms.

“Like you could take on a bear,” Beau grunts.

I laugh and it feels like something cracks open in my chest. The sound is a little unsteady, a little wild, but nobody seems to notice. Nobody but Emmett. His hand finds my thigh under the table. He rests it there almost unconsciously, like he’s making up for missing out on last night by touching me now. I bite my lip, holding my breath. I don’t want to call attention to it. I feel like acknowledging it will make him stop, and I don’t want him to stop. His touch is grounding me after a confusing morning, and I need it to stay.