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“I can be here,” she slurs with an adorable defiance that has me biting my lip. “I pay rent, and I have ... I have shoes and you don’t tell me where to wear them.”

I can see Van sucking on his molars to keep his own grin in check.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Everly drunk. I don’t think I’ve even seen her take a sip of alcohol, yet she’s babbling about reading the Constitution, which Canada doesn’t even have.

“Did you come alone?” Van interrupts, brushing a lock of hair off her cheek. It’s so gentle, Everly stops talking and leans into the touch. Her lashes flutter shut. “Where’s Bron?”

The mention of my son’s name has her eyes popping open. The delicate arches of her brows slam together with indignation.

“Dead. He’s a bad ... a bad...” she trails off, visibly thinking hard for the words. When it fails her, she lifts a hand,nearly stabs a finger up Van’s nose when she thrusts it up and wiggles it.

“Worm?” Van supplies, one massive paw practically consuming her entire hand.

“No!” she snaps. “Worms are useful. We like worms. He’s a tapeworm with no dick.” Her glossy eyes pivot in my direction. “He should have been swallowed, Mr. Shaw. I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

Van sucks in his bottom lip, not bothering at all to conceal his amusement any longer.

“Did you have a fight, baby?”

Everly scoffs, a sound I have never heard her make. “I can’t. It won’t work.”

“What won’t?”

In a move that surprises both of us, Everly shoves away from Van with an exasperated huff. The momentum combined with the daggers strapped to her feet, makes her knees buckle. I see it as if in slow motion as she starts to fall.

I rush to catch her. My arms loop around her middle from behind and I yank her into my chest like I have some kind of right ... and hold her like I definitely shouldn’t. The delicious scent of her warm skin and the faint hint of strawberries engulfs me with the collision of raw heat. My heart leaps in my chest, a panicked and reckless gallop that has my blood humming between my ears. She’s so warm and soft. I have to stop myselffrom nuzzling all those curls over her ear. Stop from running my tongue up the pulse beneath the satin stretch of flesh at her neck. I have to hold my breath as she injects herself into my senses, a drug ready to ruin my life.

At her front, Van and I lock gazes. Neither of us say a word but there is no need for any when he’s as fucked as I am. I know he is. It’s the restless hunger in his darkened eyes. The hard line of his mouth. It’s in the possessive hold he has overtop of mine.

Between us, a perfect fit in all the places she definitely shouldn’t fit so perfectly, Everly giggles. Her tiny fingers twist into the front of Van’s top. I think it’s to hold herself up, but she’s also leaning back into me.

“I had a dream that started like this,” she confesses with an impish smirk up into Van’s fiercely controlled face.

“What kind of dream?”

I could kick him for asking such a stupid and reckless and dangerous ... and fucking important question. Instead, all I can do is hold my breath so I don’t miss her answer.

But rather than put me out of my misery, Everly tips her head back on my shoulder. Her big eyes peer up into my face with a sweet hesitance that has my arms tightening around her.

“Promise not to tell Bron, Mr. Shaw? He always gets so angry with me.”

Against my better judgement, I find my hand lifting and lightly skimming the soft line of her cheek. I brush her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb and watch them part for me.

“Promise.”

I don’t even second guess my promise. I don’t consider it. I don’t even register that I just promised to keep something possibly vital from my son. My only reason for existing is to hear all about her dreams. Is to have her in my arms, warm and trusting. I can’t even look at Van anymore. How can I without broadcasting how badly I want to fuck my son’s girlfriend?

Everly sighs softly. “There’s so many, you know? I used to write them in my journal, but Bron almost found it once and I got scared.” She gives a weak chuckle. “I burned it.” She’s still peering up at me, but her fingers are gripping Van to her. Keeping him in place for the second hand she lifts to touch his face. Skim his cheek down to his lips. “I think he would have killed me if he ever saw it.”

“I would never allow that,” I state sharply.

Her grin is lopsided and endearing. “You’re both always so nice to me. You make me feel so safe.”

“Good,” Van murmurs against the fingertips he’s lightly kissing.

Everly tips her face to his, her head never lifting off my shoulder. Her touch drifts along the lines of Van’s face, tracing the curve down to the hollow of his cheek.

“This feels like a dream,” she murmurs, hazy gaze settling on his mouth with a longing I feel to my core. “Maybe it is. It has to be, right?”