Page 54

Eden

It’s okay to dream.

Beau ushers me inside quickly as Jayk delivers instructions to keep a close watch on the Reapers, and Dom starts coordinating plates. Lucky’s on the porch, jotting down item after item of our haul. Kasey lifts them up like an auctioneer, and the crowd ooh s and ahh s appropriately.

“No! Half of one bag,” Jayk shouts, pulling away from Sloane when Kasey starts tossing food into the crowd. “Fuck it. Yeah, yeah, whatever, kid. Just give me the cookies. Pack the rest of the shit away.”

Lucky laughs, springing to his feet and flinging open the taped-up sliding door as Jasper suddenly appears with a rolling cart of wine and spirits. Cups are handed out, and the music springs back to life, and the chattering and laughter settles somewhere deep inside my chest.

Beau squeezes my hand, and I realize I’m gripping him with bone-breaking intensity.

“You doing okay, darlin’?” he asks me softly.

We watch Dom pour Jayk a bourbon, and Lucky line up a string of shots that has Jasper backing up fast and grasping his canteen. We have food, and they’re all together, and the Reapers aren’t eviscerating us for daring to raid them.

I huff a rueful laugh, though it comes out too shaky. I have to swallow before I can reply.

“One day I’ll understand why I get so terrified whenever good things happen.” I bite my lip, and Jasper catches sight of us through the broken glass, his dark eyes warm. I smile back at him, strangely achy, then look up at Beau. “It just seems like too much to hope for. Do you ever feel that?”

Beautiful, wooded eyes drift over my face.

“No, Eden. I don’t. But I could see how you do.

” Something sore and tender works its way into his face as he watches me, and he hesitates before he says seriously, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like this was going to get taken away.

We need to talk, and I need to get myself set right on some things, but .

. .” He sighs, but when he meets my eyes, it’s sure and steady, like he’s pressing the words over me like a pressure dressing.

“I’m not going anywhere, darlin’. Not while you still want me. ”

It pushes right up against something inside me, something soft and sick, something that has deep, aged roots... but that has less and less to feed it anymore.

I blink as I tear my eyes away, but he turns my face back to him. “No, I need you to hear it, Eden, because I don’t think I’ve been clear. I love you... and nothing is changing that. Even if I have to remake every part of myself that ever had the power to hurt you.”

“Beau...” His name sticks in my throat, and I shake my head. “It’s not you. I’m just... I’m still learning. How to be happy, I’m...”

“Ah, pet.” He draws me in for a deep, lingering hug, until finally, into my hair, he whispers, “It’s okay to dream, darlin’. It really is.”

My throat fills, sparks of panic and hope twisting together inside me like a whirlwind. Like maybe it is something I can get swept away by.

There he goes again.

Beau might not know how to be angry—but by God, he knows how to love.

Lucky sticks his head through the door, grinning. “What are you guys doing? We’re mixing up some masterpieces. Get your asses out here so we can celebrate.”

Turning in Beau’s arms, I splutter a damp laugh. “I’m still hungover from the last night I spent drinking with you. I’ll stick to water.”

He makes a face. “You can’t celebrate with water, beautiful.”

The idea of drinking while armed men are so close makes my stomach turn, good humored or not, but I don’t want to spoil their fun.

“ I am celebrating with cheese,” I tell him primly, lifting my prize.

Beau snorts, nudging me forward, but his eyes are still gentle. “Booty shorts and cheese. That sounds like something to celebrate to me.”

I join them outside, and the civilians are cheering Jennifer as, limping on her injured leg, she approaches the bridge where Sawyer is waiting. She’s holding a bottle of rum.

Sloane edges forward on her tall defensive platform, quietly bringing her rifle around. She subtly flicks the safety off. Beside the platform, Jayk is shifting uneasily as he watches Jennifer, his drink in one hand and bag of cookies in the other. His rifle is still over his back.

But no one else reaches for their gun.

Sawyer just runs his hand through his hair, ducking his head as Jennifer steps up onto the bridge.

The cheering intensifies as she lifts the bottle—and goes wild when, obediently, Sawyer opens his mouth. The Reapers whistle, hollering, as Jennifer pours rum down his throat, and Sawyer drinks until he coughs, laughing, and she hands the bottle over with a tart farewell salute.

He watches her go for a long, regretful moment, but when she limps back under the glowing lights, I can see her bright eyes and red cheeks, and I chew my lip thoughtfully.

Sawyer turns back to his men, holding up his prize, and they shout, rushing in to get a drink—the offering accepted.

I relax as Jennifer makes it past the apple tree without trouble, but I’m not the only one hesitating.

Ava is leaning against the porch wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches them.

Glancing over the crowd of civilians, I finally take in the mix of emotions.

For every civilian who cheered Jennifer on, there is another anxiously gripping their weapon or watching the Reapers with dark, apprehensive frowns.

Beau was right. This isn’t something that can happen overnight.

Trust needs to be earned.

Shaking his head irritably, Jayk turns around, but Kasey snatches the bag of cookies out of his hand, grinning, and his expression softens. He shoves her, playfully, I think, but she staggers anyway, and he rolls his eyes, saying something that makes her flip him off.

Beau tugs me over to the porch with the others.

Jasper leans back against a post, watching me quietly, and I feel myself grow warm as I sit.

My legs dangle over the edge comfortably, and Lucky sits on the grass in front of me, his cup full to the brim with booze.

Beau drops down beside him a moment later, drawling something to Lucky under his breath, and Dom drifts over, drink in hand, to lean against the porch next to me. His heated body is just inches away.

He meets my eyes for a long, lingering moment—and I’m kissed senseless by the memory burning in them.

Jayk looks up from Kasey, and something flickers over his face as he takes us all in.

“Hey, Jayk!” Lucky twists, calling out to him before he has a chance to speak. “Get over here. Eden wants a cookie.”

I slide a confused look at the back of Lucky’s head, but don’t say anything as Jayk relaxes a little. Jayk jumps up on the porch, coming to sit behind me. He tucks his body against my back like a looming shadow.

One by one, I watch the others take it in, and I wonder if this will devolve into another fight. But they stay loose and relaxed, even if their eyes linger a little too long, and Dom starts up a low, casual conversation with Jasper.

Thank God.

Settling his untouched drink beside us, Jayk shoves the paper bag in my face. Half the cookies inside are crumbling and broken, but they look delicious.

“Just one,” he cautions, and my lips twitch.

At least I’m not the only thing he gets possessive about.

Patiently, I take a cookie out, and Lucky leans forward immediately. “Hey, Eden, can I have a cookie?”

“No! Fuck off, you rat. Get your own.”

But I laugh, already tossing it down, and Lucky’s dimples are as bright as Jayk’s scowl is dark as he catches it.

“I’m not giving you another one,” Jayk mutters balefully to me, and I shrug fatalistically, picking up my cheese.

I peel back the edges of the filmy wrap, and the scent hits me hard. Sharp. Pungent. Perfect .

Oh, God.

Saliva pools in my mouth as I take a delicate bite, and I’m already doing advanced algebra to work out how to make this small chunk last as long as physically possible.

“Are we interrupting, Eden?” Jasper asks, and I blush.

The biting, rich flavors are flooding me, and at this point, yes. They are.

“It’s so good,” I murmur, dragging the cheese through my mouth before I swallow. Reluctantly—so, so reluctantly—I lift my chunk, determined to be a better sport than Jayk. “Would anyone like some?”

Beau laughs, rolling onto one elbow as he gets comfortable. “We wouldn’t do that to you, pet.”

He drains the rest of his drink, and Lucky immediately refills it. They cheers silently.

“It’s more fun watching you eat it, anyway,” Lucky says, and his eyes track over my outfit. “A lot more fun than watching you eat dirt a dozen times in a row.”

Dom grimaces, waving Lucky off as he gets up to refill his drink. “That hurt to watch.”

They begin teasing me, laughing, trading jibes back and forth, and I settle back, watching them. Now I’m not moving, my sweat has cooled on my skin, and I’m a little cold. I press back into Jayk’s chest.

He’s quiet, watching them too, but with a slight wrinkle between his brows that I want to soothe away. Around us, the civilians are laughing and eating, caught up in their lives the same way we are.

Lucky’s hair lifts in the light breeze, brushing over his lips.

I ache to touch it—to touch him . Dom is right beside me, his forearm flexing on the porch, and I want to ask him what the kiss meant, and why there’s a new intensity in his eyes that he isn’t trying to couch.

I want to talk to Beau and clear the air.

But I can’t.

Any one of those things would set Jayk off, and right now, he’s here . They’re talking, making jokes around him, even including him occasionally, and I feel the same confusion and fear in him when it happens. Just for being here.

The tension in him winds tighter as they weave him in effortlessly—as they avoid pet names for me and keep the flirting to a minimum. As they wait for his gruff, cautious responses and move on when he doesn’t offer more.

As they’re being kind.

Thank you . Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I don’t know if it’s for them, or him, or me, but I’m not sure if it matters. They’re including him.

Quietly, I touch Jayk’s hand where he’s gripping my hip as Dom snorts at something Lucky is saying—and he squeezes me back, almost too hard.

“I would like to make a toast.”

Startled, I look over at Jasper... only to find him already watching me. He smiles, just for a moment, before lifting his eyes to look behind me.

He raises his cup sharply. “To Jaykob.”

Every thick, heavy muscle against my back springs to life as Jayk tenses, and the others go quiet, waiting.

Worry clutches my throat. Jasper is cool and impenetrable as he stares down Jayk, but the vicious argument between all of them this morning is still too fresh, and I can’t help the dread seeping into me.

Please don’t take this from him.

Then Jasper’s face softens, and he inclines his head to the man behind me. “Thank you—for keeping us all alive today. It was a good plan, and you led us well.”

Jayk’s grip on my waist becomes punishing, but Beau doesn’t wait for Jayk to run. He lifts his cup too. “To Jayk.”

Silently, Dom lifts his cup, then Lucky, their eyes all on Jayk.

My throat thick, I lift mine, too.

“To you, Jayk,” I whisper, looking up at him. “You deserve it.”

Jayk is frozen, staring between them like they have their rifles raised and him in their sights. His chest is rising too fast, and he stares at them like he doesn’t believe it—like he’s just waiting for the punchline so he can punch back already.

I feel for him, badly.

He’s wanted their respect desperately, whether he would admit it or not. He just has no idea what to do with it now that they’re offering it.

It’s not a joke—but he doesn’t get it anyway.

The others clink their glasses, Dom’s finding mine, and we drink.

Suddenly, Jayk punches to his feet, dragging me up so fast my water sloshes over my lap.

“We’re going to bed,” he snaps.

“Cool. See ya.” Lucky nods at Sloane and Mary Beth, who are sitting atop one of the defensive platforms. “I’ll switch out a watch with the civs so they can have some fun.”

“Are you going to be able to?” Dom asks dryly, and Lucky gives him a quizzical look over the rim of his drink.

Jasper matches Dom’s tone. “I’ll join him.”

“Twenty-four seven. Do not take eyes off them. That bridge is blown the second they so much as fart in our direction,” Jayk growls. “And get someone on the side tunnel, just in case.”

Beau nods. “Agreed. We’ll take care of it.”

Jayk glowers at them, tensed like he’s spoiling for a fight. Beau’s mouth kicks up, and he eyes my legs with a regretful sigh.

“Have a good night, you two,” he says softly, and Dom finally looks over at me again, his eyes burning like all the stars have settled inside him.

“Good night.”

Jayk scowls at them all, hesitating and confused, and I take his hand to tug him away. Because there’s no malice in it. There’s nothing for him to fight right now.

They gave us this.

They gave him this.

They let us go with a smile and a wave, and I leave them wistful... and happier than I’ve been in a very long time.

The Reapers are singing across the moat, and Kasey giggles with Ida in the sitting room as we pass. Jayk’s frown digs trenches into his forehead, and I wrap his hand in mine as I lead him through all the pretty possibilities.

All the hope .

It tugs at me, and I feel myself wanting to do it—wanting to indulge in it, wanting to believe in all the pretty things, too.

In allies and honesty and a future where we’re all together and not apart.

I want to believe that I’m just too jaded—and so many of us are now—and so I’d forgotten that those things are real and not phantasms. I want to believe in a world without fear of Sinners or starvation and hostages.

One where we won’t need to live with one eye on the shadows.

Jayk is lost in himself, and it’s not until we’re showered and dressed and I’m slipping between the sheets and tucking myself against him that he seems to register I’m there.

Stroking his face, I watch him from the other pillow, and he silently draws me into a crushing, clinging hug.

And as he drifts to sleep, still locked around me, I whisper into his hair.

“It’s okay, Jayk. I think it really is okay for us to dream.”