Page 53 of Stay Little Fighter

It could just be because the guys aren’t actively trying to kill each other right now and are making every effort to be nice to one another, or it could be because we’re all together in a place that feels safe.

Regardless, I find myself sitting on the back deck every morning staring out as the sun peeks over the horizon.

It’s breathtaking.

The back door opens, but I don’t bother looking up. I know it’s Ryker by his presence alone.

Damon is probably still watching me from the kitchen window like he does every morning. He thinks I don’t know he’s not sleeping, but when I wake up in the middle of the night and find him in the armchair beside the bed, it’s obvious he’s only pretending to be asleep.

“What have I told you about coming out here by yourself, Siren?” he says as he drops onto the other cushion of the outdoor lounge I spend most of my days curled up on.

I roll my eyes. “I’m perfectly safe out here. Just like King keeps telling you.”

He mutters something under his breath before plucking me from my seat and perching me in his lap. He rearranges the blanket I had over my lap, wrapping it around us both as I settle my head on his chest.

“You’re happy here.” He doesn’t pose it as a question, telling me he already knows the answer.

“How could I not be? The four of you haven’t pulled a weapon on each other the whole time we’ve been here.”

Ryker’s chest rumbles with a deep laugh. “Not that you’ve seen.”

“You don’t let me out of your sight long enough to threaten anyone,” I point out.

“Touché.”

“I’m worried about Damon,” I admit.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head and tightens his hold on me. “I know, Siren. But he’s just working through his shit. I can’t imagine holding you while you bled out. That’s bound to fuck anyone up.”

“He’s not sleeping.”

“Ronan has a sedative to give him if he goes much longer. Trust us to take care of each other while you recover, okay?”

“I’m basically good as new,” I argue.

“That may be so, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we almost lost you. You chose four men that crave control, you had to expect that we would be overprotective when you’re hurt.”

I sigh. Because he’s right. As much as I would like for them to accept that I’m fine and I don’t need them hovering, this is who they are, and I wouldn’t change them for the world.

“Any word on Salvatore or Mikayla?”

His body tenses beneath me for a moment, his hold on me so tight it borders on pain before he forces himself to relax. “Bishop was able to find some information on the trafficking ring the Vegas are working with. It’s as bad as we expected and not something we’ll be able to take out alone. Terrance Vega hasn’t been seen or heard from in months, which could mean he’s in hiding, or he could be dead. Mikayla and Salvatore are also MIA.”

He tries to hide his frustration from me, but it’s obvious this is weighing on him. His need to keep me safe is challenged by the fact he doesn’t know how to do that, and he fucking hates it.

“They’ll show up eventually,” I assure him.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

I press a kiss to his chest, reveling in the steady beat of his heart beneath my lips. I spent a lot of years alone, too afraid to allow anyone to touch me, and yet this is where I feel most at home.

In their arms.

And maybe that’s the thing that makes the beach house feel like it’s where I belong.

Because it’s not really about the house at all, it’s the four men inside it.

“I love you,” I whisper.