Page 90 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Kiaan

The helicopter sliced through Seattle’s cloud cover, the city sprawling beneath us like a high-resolution version of our gaming maps. I watched Skylar’s face instead of the view, cataloging each expression as she white-knuckled the edge of her leather seat. Eight years of friendship through screens, voice chats, and text messages, and this was the first time I’d seen her genuine laugh in person—nervous but real. Worth every penny of the obscene charter fee I’d dropped without blinking.

“That’s the Space Needle,”

I pointed out, leaning close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo—something citrusy that made my chest tighten in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

“And over there’s Pike Place, where they throw the fish. We can hit that later if you want.”

“I know what the Space Needle is. I grew up in Washington, remember?”

Her voice crackled through the headset, her snark so familiar it made my pulse jump. This was how she talked during games; raw, unfiltered, and bold. Her expression softened, and she reached out and patted my hand.

“But it’s really cool to see it from this angle.”

I grinned, settling back into the seat.

“Just making sure you’re getting the full tour experience.”

When I’d told her about the helicopter, I’d half-expected her to tell me to fuck off, but instead she’d disappeared somewhere with Makai, who was a sexy surfer type, and Skylar’s other best friend. Her real-life best friend.

But she’d come back from wherever she’d gone in the morning in worn jeans and a Legend of the Twin Blades t-shirt, ready to ride a helicopter.

She claimed because it was likely going to be her only chance, but if she was mine, I’d take her out on helicopter rides any time she liked.

“I still can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Skylar shook her head, but her eyes tracked the coastline with undeniable interest.

“A fucking helicopter, Kiaan. Really?”

I laughed, the sound catching in my throat.

“I thought you ran an adventure tour company. Doing my research, it seemed like a helicopter would be right up your alley?”

She rolled her eyes, but her death grip on the seat had relaxed.

“Makai’s the adventurous one. I just handle the tech side and bookings.”

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

“I stick to adventures I’ve done since I was a kid—surfing, sailing, kayaking, mountain biking. Stuff that doesn’t feel risky anymore.”

“All of those sound way more adventurous than sitting in this well-maintained aircraft with two experienced pilots.”

I gestured toward the cockpit.

“Whatever.”

She nudged my shoulder with hers, the casual contact sending electricity down my spine.

It hit me again, watching her profile against the window—this was Skylar. The same Skylar who had carried our guild through countless raids, who trash-talked better than anyone I knew, who’d once stayed up all night helping me debug a particularly nasty authentication issue when my startup was still just lines of code on my laptop. Eight years of friendship, and this was the first time I’d seen her face without a screen between us.

The helicopter banked toward downtown, heading for the private helipad atop the Elliot Tower where I’d arranged lunch. I’d pulled every string, called in every favor to make today perfect—a do-over after yesterday’s train wreck. Maybe it was excessive, but excessive was what I knew. Money was the easiest language for me to speak.

“Almost there,”

I said as the pilot began our descent.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

Skylar’s eyes widened as we approached the gleaming glass spire.

“Wait, we’re landing on top of that?”

I nodded, not bothering to hide my satisfaction at her reaction.

“Best view in the city.”

The touchdown was smooth, the rotors slowing as a uniformed attendant rushed forward to open the door. I stepped out first, turning to offer Skylar my hand. She hesitated before taking it, her fingers warm against mine.

“Mr. Malhotra, welcome back.”

The ma?tre d’ greeted us at the rooftop entrance, his posture perfectly straight.

“Your usual table is ready.”

I guided Skylar through the penthouse restaurant, acutely aware of the eyes that followed us—hers taking in the crystal chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling windows, others recognizing me, wondering who the blue-haired woman in jeans was in this sea of business attire and cocktail dresses.

“Your usual table?”

Skylar whispered as the hostess led us to a corner table with panoramic views of Puget Sound.

“Seriously?”

I shrugged, trying for nonchalance.

“I’m in Seattle quite often to meet with startups.”

“You’re founding another company?”

“No. Since I sold mine, I’ve been focused on impact investing. Investing in companies that will have a positive social and environmental impact if they’re successful.”

“Couldn’t you just give your money away?”

I laughed.

“I do a lot of that, too. But it’s really rewarding to find innovative people with fantastic, world-changing ideas who just need capital to get their business going. The company I’m currently working with came up with a concept for affordable modular housing for the homeless. And there’s another focused on making a device that reduces noise pollution in the ocean now that we know about the impact the large ships are having on whales and other marine life.”

She stared at me for a long moment.

“That’s actually cool,”

she said, opening the menu before frowning and closing it again.

“There are no prices on this.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I signaled the sommelier, ordering champagne without asking what she wanted.

“Get whatever looks good.”

I watched her over the rim of my flute, searching for signs that she was impressed, that this gambit was working. Instead, she looked bemused, finger tracing condensation on her water glass as she studied the menu and picked something.

Skylar bit into a lacy and delicate tempura lotus root, chewing thoughtfully.

“So?”

I asked when our appetizers arrived—delicate towers of seafood and vegetables arranged with an artistic flair.

“What do you think of all this?”

A smile broke across her face—not the awed expression I’d been hoping for, but something softer, almost apologetic.

“Want the truth? I thought you were making the whole hundred-million-dollar business sale up,”

she said, laughing a little.

“I figured you were just some nerd living in your mom’s basement, trying to sound cool to a chick he was into online.”

I set down my champagne flute carefully, afraid I might crush the delicate stem.

“You didn’t believe me?”

My voice came out smaller than I intended.

Skylar’s smile faltered, her hand reaching across the table to cover mine.

“Hey, no—that came out wrong. I believed you were smart enough to do it. And I believed you’d sold your company for a tidy sum. I just... people say all kinds of shit online, you know? I didn’t believe Ryker was a firefighter, either.”

“Skylar, he sent us literal firefighter calendar pics, shirtless, holding kittens.”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe that was like his hot older brother or something. He doesn’t act like a tough firefighter. And you don’t act like a billionaire. You’re both just my dorky, cute best friends.”

“Dorky? Me?”

I scoffed.

She giggled.

“So dorky. But in my favorite way. And then when I finally meet you and you show up in designer clothes, offering me a ride in a literal helicopter—”

“And Ryker shows up with a literal eight-pack?”

“See? You get me. It’s a lot to process.”

She squeezed my hand, and I stared at her hand on mine. Her nails were short and practical, a small callus on her thumb probably from gaming controllers. Nothing like the manicured women I’d usually invite to a restaurant like this, but somehow so much better.

She smiled.

“To be clear, I like you for you, Kiaan. I’m impressed with your mind and your ideas, not your millions. But I never thought you weren’t capable of it.”

“When you first met me, I was that guy in the basement,”

I said.

“Well, basically. I did have a shitty apartment. But I’m not that guy anymore because you believed in me when no one else did.”

The memory surfaced with perfect clarity—sitting in my tiny apartment four years ago, surrounded by empty energy drink cans, coding like a maniac, breaking only to game with Skylar and Ryker.

“Remember when I dropped out of Stanford to start my company? Everyone thought I was crazy.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the familiar gesture grounding me.

“My family called me every day for months, telling me I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Investors laughed me out of meetings.”

Skylar’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry they didn’t believe in you.”

“They didn’t, but you were the one person who told me my idea for the security app was brilliant. You pushed me to keep going.”

I swallowed hard, the memory vivid enough to taste—bitter coffee and desperation as I coded through another sleepless night.

“Remember that time I sent you the prototype for my authentication algorithm?”

She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“That was some fucking genius code.”

Those were the exact words she’d used then, their impact just as powerful now. I’d been ready to give up that night, to call my parents and admit defeat. Instead, I’d sent the code to Skylar during a break in our raid, not expecting much.

“You told me anyone who couldn’t see its potential was an idiot,”

I continued, throat tight with the memory.

“Said it would revolutionize security protocols.”

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”

She grinned, raising her champagne in a small toast.

“Wait. I’m an idiot.”

“What?”

“You never told me your company name, and I didn’t think much of it since I figured you were exaggerating, but now that I know… Holy shit, I read all about your company in some tech paper. Why didn’t I put two and two together?”

“You’ve always been a little slow on the uptake,” I teased.

She burst out laughing, shaking her head, looking more beautiful than I’d ever imagined her to be.

My chest ached with the sudden realization of how much she meant to me—had always meant to me. Not as some idealized online fantasy, but as the one person who’d seen value in my ideas when they were nothing but lines of code and ambition.

“You were the first person I told when the acquisition went through,”

I admitted.

“Not my family, not my co-founders. You.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, eyes dropping to her plate.

“Are things better with them? With your family?”

“I mean, they approve of my success,”

I said, laughing.

“Kiaan.”

“It’s good. Maybe a little more distant than I’d like, but good. I bought my sisters a house, and I paid off their student loans. Paying for my little brother’s college. I still don’t feel like I fit in, not completely, but I know they love me, and they were trying their best. They just don’t get me like you and Ryker do.”

“All this—”

she gestured around the opulent restaurant.

“—doesn’t change how I see you. I’m thrilled that you found success, but you’d be my best friend either way. I’d be proud of you either way. It doesn’t change who we are to each other.”

“Even who we are to each other in private DMs?”

I asked, thinking of the dark, sexy topics of our more recent conversations.

She bit her bottom lip, meeting my eyes.

“Give me a little time, okay? I… I just need to process all of it. My grandmother’s little surprise threw me.”

I nodded, feeling a little less nervous as our food arrived. I let the conversation drift back to safer ground—startup horror stories, MMO raid fails, the time a bug in the Twin Blades codebase made her guild leader avatar spontaneously combust on camera. We dined on extravagant poke and melt-in-your-mouth sashimi.

I poured us another glass of champagne, then another, and watched Skylar grow more relaxed and chatty. The air shifted between us—gamer banter tangled up with something hungry and unspoken, tinged with memories of our online flirtations. For a few minutes, I let myself imagine how easily I could pull her into my lap, taste the champagne on her tongue, strip away all the armor she wore for the world. But she had asked for time and space, and I gave it to her.

By the time dessert arrived—some molecular gastronomy confection that looked like a dragon egg and oozed molten chocolate when cracked—Skylar was laughing and swearing and making me forget every date I’d ever been on. She was sharp, bright, present—utterly herself. When the check came, she tried to reach for it out of pure stubbornness, but I blocked her with a shake of my head.

“Not a chance,”

I said.

“Let me do this for you.”

Her gaze softened.

“Okay. But the next round of pizza and beer is on me.”

My chest stuttered at the implication—next round. We returned to the helipad, the city gleaming below us, wind whipping her hair messily around her face. This time, as the helicopter lifted off, she leaned against me without pretending it was an accident, and I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the simple touch, waiting for her to make the next move as we flew back towards the island.

She was quiet as I picked up a rental car at Friday Harbor’s tiny airport and drove her back to her cabin. I’d spent a small fortune today trying to impress her, and as we approached her front door, I turned to her, asking her if she’d enjoyed herself.

The smile she gave me as we walked up the path was more polite than dazzled—and I worried it was the kind of smile you’d give someone who brought you an overly expensive gift you didn’t actually want. It stung more than I wanted to admit.

“Thanks for today,”

Skylar said.

“It was... different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

I couldn’t help asking, needing some validation that the day hadn’t been a complete waste. What if I’d been the only one feeling the warmth between us at dinner?

She shrugged, that half-smile playing at her lips again.

“Just different. I’ve never been in a helicopter before, so...”

Her voice trailed off as she pushed open the door and froze in the entryway.

I peered over her shoulder, then felt my stomach drop.

Ryker knelt on the hardwood floor of Skylar’s living room, surrounded by tools and wood shavings, carefully installing a shelf in a unit that ran along the back wall. Had he built that all today? As far as I could remember, there’d been nothing but a pile of junk along that wall.

The golden sunset streamed through the windows, catching on his tousled blonde hair and illuminating the fine sheen of sweat on his forearms as he worked. He looked up at our entrance, a streak of sawdust across one cheek making him appear younger, almost boyish despite his imposing size.

“Oh,”

he said, pushing himself to his feet and wiping his hands on his jeans.

“You’re back. I was hoping to have this finished before you got home.”

Skylar stepped into the room, her mouth falling open as she approached the shelving unit. It was a masterpiece of functionality—perfectly sized sections for game cartridges, special angled displays for the rarer items, even subtle LED lighting built into the top shelf.

“Holy shit, Ryker,”

she exclaimed, rushing forward to run her fingers along the polished wood.

“These are perfect! Where did you get the tools to make this?”

Ryker waved her off like it was nothing.

“Makai let me use the shop at his house. It’s really just a simple design; it only took about eight hours.”

Eight hours. While I’d been showing off my wealth in Seattle, Ryker had been here, building something with his hands. Something that couldn’t be bought, only created with time, care, and attention to what she loved.

“This is what I needed for my collection,”

Skylar beamed, already reaching for a box of vintage cartridges she kept under the coffee table.

“Look how the Super Nintendo games fit in these slots!”

I stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling like an intruder. The intimacy between them was palpable—not sexual, but something deeper: friendship. Friendship. Ryker knew what mattered to her. He knew how to create something that would bring genuine joy, not just impressed politeness. I forgot all about the warmth in her eyes at lunch as panic washed over me in sickening waves.

“I can help you organize them,”

Ryker offered, kneeling beside her as she began sorting through her collection. His large hands moved with surprising delicacy as he lifted a cartridge, examining the label before placing it in a designated spot.

The jealousy that scorched through me was so intense I had to look away. Not just because of how easily Skylar smiled at him—the real smile I’d been trying to earn all day—but because of how competent he was. How effortlessly useful. While I’d been building empires in the digital realm, Ryker had been learning to create tangible things that actually mattered in the physical world.

I forced myself to move deeper into the room, setting my keys on the counter with a deliberate clink.

“Nice work,”

I managed, the words tasting like ash.

Ryker glanced up, genuine gratitude in his expression.

“Thanks. I remembered Skylar mentioning her collection needed a better home during that raid on the Northern Citadel last month.”

Of course, he’d remembered that. I’d been on that same raid and hadn’t registered anything beyond strategy and loot distribution. But Ryker had been listening—really listening—to the person behind the avatar.

I watched as he reached up to adjust one of the shelves, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tanned skin and defined muscle. His forearms flexed as he tightened a screw, veins visible beneath the skin. There was a small scar near his wrist, white against the golden tan, probably from some heroic rescue. Everything about him screamed capability and quiet strength.

And that’s when it hit me—the uncomfortable, unwanted realization that my fascination wasn’t just jealousy. I was noticing things about Ryker I had no business noticing. The breadth of his shoulders. The careful precision of his movements. The way his shirt stretched across his back when he leaned forward.

The heat that crawled up my neck had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with an attraction I didn’t want to examine. I’d always considered myself straight—not that I’d given it much thought beyond perfunctory hookups that satisfied physical needs without emotional complications. But watching Ryker’s hands move across the wood, I couldn’t deny the tightness in my chest, the warmth pooling low in my stomach.

“You okay?”

Skylar asked, jolting me from my thoughts.

“You look weird.”

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring.

“Fine. Just tired from the trip.”

Ryker looked up then, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. There was something knowing in his gaze, as if he could see right through the walls I’d spent years constructing.

“I made coffee earlier,”

he said.

“Should still be hot if you want some.”

Such a simple offer, but it landed like a challenge. Like he was daring me to join them in their easy domesticity instead of standing apart, separated by my pride and confusion.

“I’m good,”

I replied, shoving my hands into my pockets.

“I think I’ll grab a shower.”

I retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, my heart hammering in my chest. Through the door, I could hear Skylar’s excited voice as she showed Ryker her most prized games, his low responses interspersed with her laughter.