Page 75 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

I do not answer, I turn to leave.

In an instant he is at my back, his body close to mine, his hand settling at the hollow of my throat in a possessive touch.

He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Ignoring me won’t make me disappear, Ophelia. You should know that by now.”

He withdraws as abruptly as he appeared.

I force myself to breathe, furious at my own betrayal, mortified that such a small exchange has me trembling, my thighs pressed together, my composure in shambles.

We make our way down the staircase in silence, and I’m quietly grateful for it.

Voices fill the chalet long before we make it downstairs, the scent of food still lingering from earlier cooking.

When I step into the archway leading to the living room, they’re all there.

Milo and Octavia are sprawled across the carpet, arguing over something trivial.

Piper sits curled in an armchair, a book open in her lap, while Hunter occupies the one opposite, watching her with a look I can’t decipher.

On the sofa, Isaak and Adelaide sit apart, she angled as far from him as possible.

“Oh, finally,” Octavia sighs the moment she spots me. “I’m starving.”

“You could’ve eaten,” I say lightly. “There was no reason to wait for us.”

She rolls her eyes and flicks a look between Arlo and me. “Let’s eat. I’m sure whatever you made will be perfect,” she finally says.

Milo looks up from where he’s sprawled on the floor, a crooked grin creeps across his features. “Don’t tell me it’s another round of those bloody vegan meatballs or whatever plant based crap you insist on eating.”

I laugh and shake my head, but before I can respond, Arlo’s voice breaks through the room behind me.

“If you don’t like what’s served, get your own fucking food. She doesn’t owe you a damn thing.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, caught off guard.

Milo, on the other hand, looks entirely unsurprised, almost as if he’d been waiting for that comeback from Arlo. He only smirks, muttering something under his breath.

Turning toward the kitchen, I’m grateful I cooked more than enough earlier. I’d thought I was being excessive, planning for leftovers, but clearly not. With this many uninvited guests, there won’t be a single crumb left.

No one seems to complain about their presence anymore. I think we’ve all accepted the same truth, they came here because of us, and there’s no chance in hell they’ll be leaving anytime soon.

I move into the kitchen and start plating the food, the soft scrape of dishes the only thing keeping me grounded.

Arlo follows in silence, pulling forks from the drawer without needing to be told. It’s strange, almost domestic, in a way that unsettles me more than it should.

From the other room, Adelaide’s voice carries through, sweet and venomous. “I see you’re all making yourselves rather comfortable,” she says, her gaze fixed squarely on the men.

Arlo doesn’t so much as glance her way.

I finish spooning out the food, add a generous dusting of vegan parmesan, and line the plates neatly along the counter for whoever wants one.

Soon enough, everyone drifts in to collect their plates before heading back to the living room.

Adelaide and Piper take the sofa, Isaak sliding in beside her. Hunter settles into the armchair, watching everything without really looking at anyone.

Octavia and Milo sit cross legged on the carpet, plates balanced on their knees. I lower myself to the floor opposite them, and Arlo drops down beside me, his shoulder brushing mine for the briefest moment.

For a second, it almost feels normal, like we’re just a group of friends having dinner in some warm mountain cabin.