Page 122 of Goldilocks
“I’m going to swing into college,” Sam said, and Roan tensed. “And thank a professor who was kind to me,” Sam said pointedly, looking sideways at Roan. “No other reason. And I’ll grab Mary as I come back through. I already asked her to free up a day, so I’m going to show her all this. I might see if Fionn wants to come along for the weekend too.”
“Is having them on the boat together a good idea?” Eric asked.
Sam shrugged. “If anyone gets pushed into the ocean, there are plenty of mermen to save them.”
Eric, Roan believed, was finally realising the lightness with which Sam was speaking. The playfulness that was emerging now that he was being cared for properly. Roan couldn’t help but squeeze his thigh, delighted to see his happiness so close to the surface.
Sam cast him a sideways smile as he dropped his hand to his and knit their fingers together.
Ivan returned with a jug of Lir juice and a bottle of Malibu on a tray. He once again squeezed Eric’s shoulder, checking his face, as he always did, for any signs of distress. Roan thought him a suitable, attentive mate for Sam’s anxious sibling.
“Who wants a drink?” Ivan asked, his tone friendly.
“I didn’t realise I had a choice,” Sam said.
Ivan’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Eric butted in. “He’s just teasing,” he reassured Ivan. Ivan slowly turned his head to Eric, who smiled at him. Roan thought Eric didn’t realise how he’d just got on his mate’s nerves with his intervention.
“Well,” Ivan said. “I guess it’s nice that you’re acting like brothers now instead of like two stray cats hissing at each other from across the street.”
“To be fair,” Sam weighed in, “I was the only one acting like that.”
Ivan and Eric cast Sam looks of equal surprise. Roan wasn’t surprised; he was holding his mate’s hand, sitting by his side. This was not a moment where Sam felt vulnerable.
“Huh.” Ivan sank into his seat. “That was…very…honest. Coming from you.”
“You make it sound like I go around telling lies.”
“Your general honestly is fine. However, youremotionalhonesty? Getting you to talk about your feelings has been genuinely impossible,” Ivan said frankly. “I didn’t think it would ever happen.”
Eric was squirming in his seat. “That was because of the ghoul,” he said, defending Sam.
Ivan hummed. He didn’t think so, but when Eric frowned and opened his mouth to argue, Ivan beat him to it. “Seeing as we’re being honest…” His gaze slid back to Sam. “How are your eyes?”
Sam’s grip tightened for a second on Roan’s hand, but his resistance faded only a second later with a sigh. “I still have dyslexia, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It wasn’t caused by the ghoul, like with Eric?” Ivan spoke with a more careful tone, like he was testing the waters now instead of rashly jumping in. He, Roan decided, had also learned how to see what Sam didn’t say, and perhaps saw the discomfort his question had caused.
“It probably wasn’t helping any.” Sam shrugged. “I’m a lot better. I can actuallyreadagain, but it’s still…it’s still there. I was hoping it wouldn’t be,” he admitted.
Ivan winced. Eric’s expression filled with concern. He opened his mouth to deliver a reassurance that Roan knew would only have the opposite effect on Sam. Sam preferred vulnerability to be talked around, addressed in the corner of conversations, not the forefront.
“Pour our drinks,” Roan said firmly, flashing a warning look at the pair.
Ivan raised a brow. Eric looked at him, seeming slightly vexed, though his attention returned to Sam quickly. He opened his mouth again and with an irritated twitch of his fingers, the jug of Lir juice fell, the contents falling on the table and pouring onto Eric’s lap.
“What the—”
“Go change,” Roan said.
Ivan stood first. “Come on.” He nudged Eric. “I need to talk to you about something.” He led a grumbling Eric from the garden, and Sam cast Roan a knowing look.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he said.
Roan hummed.
“I’m trying to, you know…bondwith Eric. And since he can’t read a room to save his life, I need to actually say things.” Sam’s smile was self-deprecating. “Which I suck at.”
Roan hummed again. “Paint him a cup. You said he liked the last one greatly?”
Sam opened his mouth. Closed it. “You’re really something else, you know that?” He leaned in, and despite the fact that Oisín and Vi were approaching and Sam hated being physically open in front of others, he pressed a kiss to Roan’s lips. “He’d love that,” Sam said. “Loveit.”
And Sam could connect with his sibling inhislanguage, which wouldn’t leave him feeling so vulnerable and defensive. Roan, pleased that Sam was pleased, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his chin over his crown to share his warmth.
Oisín and Vi claimed two seats, and Vi waved a hand and a servant appeared to gather the books. On which, Roan had made sure, no juice had spilled.
Sam turned his attention to his sire and engaged him in conversation. Vi raised an eyebrow at the spilled jug, which Roan didn’t acknowledge, and Eric eventually returned with Ivan in dry clothes. Food arrived – all of Sam’s growing list of favourites – and they ate. Together. Relaxed. His court. His family.