Page 33 of Puck Your Friend

He pauses as his gray eyes narrow beneath the dark curls swept over his forehead. Without a word, he leaves the island and jogs upstairs. He returns a moment later with a hoodie and holds it out.

I shake my head. “I’m not—j”

He arches a brow and nudges the hoodie closer, almost touching my fingers. “You look cold. Take it.”

Giving in, I take and pull it on. The soft fabric settles over my skin, infused with his scent: clove and mint.

It stirs something in me I can’t shove back down. I want to give in.

This is where I belong, surrounded by them.

But my instincts don’t care what it costs me.

At the end of the island, Logan tilts back in his chair, loosely holding his chopsticks. “Do you guys remember flashlight tag at camp our second year with the older kids?”

Ford grins and bites into another wing. His brown hair falls forward as he moves. “Wes kept killing his flashlight every time he heard someone coming, thinking he’d sneak up on people.”

Wes smirks and crosses his arm over his sling. His dreads are pulled back from his face. “It almost worked. Until I tripped over that root trying to flank Frankie.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “You mean when she lured you into the woods on purpose?” He snorts, bites into his sandwich, and chews fast, before swallowing. “She baited you out, then doubled back and tagged half the group while we were trying to find her.”

Logan gestures toward me with his chopsticks. “That was the year she started keeping score. You weren’t just playing, you hunted us.”

I stab a dumpling and smirk. “Because none of you stuck to the rules. Someone had to even the playing field.”

Ford tosses a napkin on the counter. “You ran circles around us. I don’t think anyone tagged you all week.”

Logan shakes his head. “You knocked me straight into the dead fire pit that night.” He grins. “I had ash in my nose for days.”

I lift my brows. “I recall you getting scared and screaming as you stumbled back. Sounds like poor balance to me.” I pop the dumpling into my mouth. It’s thick on my tongue. I drink more of the margarita to wash it down. My buzz turns into a hum, my mind is now a comfortable fuzzy.

Wes lifts his glass in salute. “You were ruthless, Frankie.”

Jace plants his elbows on the counter as he stares at me. “No one played like you did.”

Laughter rolls through the kitchen. I settle into it. The tension in my body eases now that I’m in his hoodie. Wrapped in it, I feel calmer. Almost normal.

The laughter fades into a quiet lull. I push food around my plate. I know I should eat, but it’s been so hard to stomach anything the last few weeks. I force myself to swirl some noodles and lift them.

Wes nudges me. I glance over. He tilts his head to the side. “You should crash here tonight.”

My fork stalls halfway to my mouth. “What?”

Logan pushes his empty plate away. “Yeah, you look tired. It’s late. We’re up early. We’ll drop you off before work.”

Jace’s eyes meet mine. “My bed’s yours.” He smiles as if he’s joking, but I’m not sure he is.

The thought of him holding me through the night enters my brain, followed by all of them, and then them naked, their knots forming under the sheets, ready to…

Ford glances at Jace with a frown. “Or the nest room. Your choice.” He turns his attention back to me.

I clear my throat, pushing away my thoughts before they spiral past the point of no return.

The thought of being in the nest room with their scents wrapped around me and knowing they’re just down the hall.

It’s the kind of comfort I’ve always said I don’t need. I should go home and not tempt myself.

“Okay.” The word leaves my mouth before I can stop it. As if my lips have a mind of their own.