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He grins slow, tongue skimming the inside of his cheek. “You are good.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I need you to trust me.”

“I already do,” he says.

There’s a pause. A heartbeat of tension.

Then I rise, walk to the side of the bed, and unclip the cuff.

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches me. And then, so help me, he pats his thigh and murmurs, “C’mere, sweetheart.”

I nearly combust.

Instead, I straighten like a woman with dignity. “Tour first,” I say, fanning myself with a breath. “Flirting later.”

Dean chuckles and swings his legs off the bed. His shirt rides up just enough to show the lines of his lower abs and the waistband of his jeans, and God, I deserve an award for not crawling into his lap.

“Lead the way,” he says, stretching his arms overhead. “Let’s see the rest of your little doomsday palace.”

“Oh, it’s more than a palace,” I say, tossing him a wink. “It’s a utopia. For chosen people only.”

We head down the hallway, me barefoot and practically glowing, Dean barefoot and completely unfazed by being kidnapped. Honestly? He’s thriving.

We stop at the door to Evan’s room.

I press my hand against the glass, peeking in. He’s sitting up now, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair a mess, blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a sad prince in a cold tower.

“Evan,” I say brightly through the speaker.

His head jerks toward the door. He sees me and then Dean.

And oh, the look on his face.

Dean lifts a hand and waves. Grins wide, like they’re neighbors meeting in a cul-de-sac and not prisoners in my underground love fortress.

“Hey, Doc,” he says. “Heard you’ve got the good bed. Appreciate you warming it up.”

Evan stares. Blinks once. Slowly.

I bite my lip and laugh. Full-on giggles. God, this is going to be so good for Evan’s mood. He’s been so gloomy, and now? He’s got a roommate with the libido of a golden retriever and the abs of a sin.

“Dean’s going to be great for you,” I say, smiling like I just introduced two friends at brunch. “You guys are going to be such good influences on each other.”

“Family,” Dean says behind me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “We’re making a weird, sexy family. I’m into it.”

Evan does not respond.

Which is fine. I didn’t expect him to. But he’s thinking. Processing. The same way Dean did, just a little slower. Like a microwave dinner heating in the middle.

I turn, facing Dean.

He’s looking at me like he’s already planning where to hang his tools.

“You’re seriously okay?” I ask, just a little breathless. “With all of this?”

Dean shrugs. “The world’s falling apart. You’ve got pizza, power, and a thing for handcuffs. Frankly, sweetheart, I think you’re saving me.”

I swoon. Actually swoon. Like a Victorian ghost in a corset.