Page 29 of Tech Prince Troubles (Runaway Prince Hotel #6)

Adri

I sat in the front seat of Sam’s van— their van—basking in the sparse rays breaking through the gray clouds. A passenger in their family network.

The children carried bags and crates from the house, calling out the contents as they passed and dropped them to the ground behind the van. I was a passenger with a task.

Sam had sent me their canoe day checklist—his way of making me feel included.

And it worked. Instead of being an afterthought in a process they’d perfected over the years, they’d made space for me, made me a participant.

It put me at ease—not lost, not in the way.

They’d fitted me into their routine, even if all I carried were a few batteries and my drawing pad.

I would’ve been happy to put them in my pockets, but they’d all protested.

Bethany had given me a blue dry bag and a Sharpie to label it.

Her efficient welcome gesture sent sparks along my system.

That bag sat on top of the first crates Evan had slotted into the back of the van.

He smiled at me as he added more, shuffling, sliding, and shoving them into place like a defragmenting drive .

Before long, he closed the back doors, while Alex and Ella ran back to the house, shouting about banana pancakes.

“Sam said to remind you it’s okay if you want to stay out here during breakfast,” Evan said as he locked the side door.

I nodded but checked the list one last time and got out of the van. “That’s okay. I’d like to join.”

Sam made the chaos tolerable. Staying outside would only make me more nervous—and undo all their lovely efforts to include me. Just like they had that first dinner when they’d realized I didn’t need their food for sustenance.

I wasn’t nervous about rowing a boat or swimming—I’d grown up on an island. Despite rumors to the contrary, Niren couldn’t fly. We weren’t drones. Even when we floated, we were still firmly rooted to the Earth.

“I’m glad you’re joining us today. He’s been a bit grumpy.”

Sam had admitted no such thing in our chats, but Quinn had.

We exchanged more art than words, yet Sam’s name had popped up frequently since I’d left for Niralen.

Two long weeks of performing my princely duties and smiling at people—the longest I’d been away since moving into the Renversé Hotel back in October.

“Adri.”

I stopped at the heavy note in Evan’s otherwise light voice. “Yes?”

“I feel obliged to repay the threat your family uttered toward Sam.” His relaxed stance, the twinkle in his eyes, all pointed to Evan not being serious.

All but his voice. “While wielding deadly flowers is not my thing, I’ve designed enough secret spaces in my career to know where to hide bodies, and I’m quite handy with a paddle. ”

He couldn’t have said “welcome” any louder than this. Any nervousness I still felt toward him fell away. As kind as he’d been during that first dinner—as they all had been—he’d seemed the most distant of them all. I nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

Evan guffawed and slapped my shoulder. “Good. Now. Let’s get this family day on the road.”

Contrary to our previous meals, breakfast was quiet and quick, and the smell of the banana pancakes—sweet or not—made me want to try them. Another time. Two firsts in one day was too much.

The drive, on the other hand, had me dialing my noise filters up all the way, even from the front seat, beside Sam.

By the time we reached the boating club, I had a crick in my neck from sitting half-turned to take in the happy family sing-along.

Even Quinn—wearing the headphones I’d upgraded with a similar noise filter—joined in.

Once the boats were packed and the van locked, Sam guided me toward a kayak built for two. I only knew it was a kayak because I’d studied the reference links he sent after I kept confusing them—including the website for their club.

He wrapped his arm around me. “Thank you for coming.”

Pleasure zinged through me. He’d whispered something similar into my ear last night. “How could I say no to Ella?” She’d inserted herself into our last chat, eager about their first lake outing of the year.

Sam laughed. “Even when she calls you Airy?”

Her cute face, scrunched up in concentration as she pronounced the r —completely missing the d —still made me smile. That, and the pride and love in everyone’s eyes, despite Tammy’s attempt to shrug it off with a, “ She’s five, just go with it .”

How could I complain when she called Sam coffee? “Yes. Even then.”

Sam brushed his lips across my jaw and murmured, “Good.”

My system sparked. I turned my face and caught the corner of his mouth with a kiss .

Gagging noises made us turn. Julian and Evan stood in their life vests, watching with identical smirks.

“You’re as bad as Mom and Dad,” Julian complained.

Evan winked. “Kids. What did you expect?”

What was I supposed to expect? “What does he mean? Is Julian sick?”

“He’s fine.” Sam rose to his toes and kissed me, short and sweet. “He’s making those sounds because teenagers get weird when they see their parents kiss.”

Had to be a human thing. I filed it away for a future conversation.

He didn’t move away as he told Evan, “You’re just glad it’s not you for a change.”

“Damn right I am.” Evan clapped Julian on his back. “Come on, sport. Leave them be. Don’t want to be the last one on the water, do you?”

“Ha. As if.” Julian ducked beneath his arm and sprinted toward the single kayak.

Sam’s breath ghosted across my skin as he sighed. “It’s going to be so hard not to tease him like that when we catch him kissing a date.”

“So hard,” Evan echoed, backing toward the canoe. “Someone’d better hand me a parent-of-the-year award if we pull that off.”

“There are awards for that?” I asked, reluctant to leave Sam’s embrace.

“Anything the kids can magic up from leftover craft supplies and a free afternoon. Maybe a gift card for an hour of uninterrupted me-time or the promise to do his chores for a week.” Sam’s eyes sparkled.

“They gave us manicures last year on Father’s Day.

Painted our nails in rainbow colors while we watched their video montage of a family day we didn’t even know they’d filmed. ”

Homemade gifts. That brought back memories. “Frank and I built our mins a self-sustaining indoor green wall for their bedroom.” It still worked all these years later.

“That sounds amazing. Not sure our kids are up to projects like that.”

Perhaps I could teach them. If they wanted. I made a note about researching Father’s Day.

Sam checked my life vest, ran both hands down my arms, and took my hands. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, already calling up the kayaking instructions I’d saved. It had been years since I’d paddled.

“Okay then.”

He helped me slide into the front seat and fit the spray cover—something I’d never used—then got in behind me. “Remember, don’t lose your paddle. And be prepared to race Julian.”

I smiled over my shoulder as I lifted the paddle from the jetty, testing its weight. The instructions had said to sit straight, find my balance, and not lean too far forward. I wriggled until I sat comfortably, nodding when Sam said he was pushing off.

The kayak wobbled, but I stayed straight, holding the blade over the water until we were away from the shore. My first strokes were uneven, but with Sam sounding out the rhythm, muscle memory quickly took over and my nerves settled. And I hadn’t been nervous about the paddling.

“Let’s follow Tammy and Quinn for now and let Julian do his thing.”

So we did. Paddle in, paddle out, paddle in, paddle out.

While similar, this was nothing like those days Frank and I had paddled along our island coast. We’d been playing then—paddling, swimming, diving.

This was different. Between Sam calling out directions, glimpses of the sun between the clouds, and the repetitive motion of catch, power, exit, and rotate, my system relaxed, and my thoughts quieted.

Only the others’ voices reminded me we weren’t alone on the lake.

I barely noticed time passing. This sense of calm, of being present, stayed with me during lunch.

The children’s laughter and shrieks as they chased each other seemed far away, but I was fully there.

Nestled against Sam, battery clamped between my hands, I even joined in the conversation—and not just to answer questions about Niralen.

After lunch, Julian challenged us to a race.

I hadn’t expected to enjoy it, but it was exhilarating.

Tiring, too. Which didn’t hit me until we’d stowed away the boats, packed up the van, and collapsed into our seats.

Sam and I sat in the back row, strapped in side by side, our hands entwined between us.

My whole system twitched and trembled with every bump and turn.

I wasn’t alone. The children’s voices frayed at the edges as they sang their hearts out, and Tammy yawned every few lines.

“Don’t worry, I’ll rub balm into your sore muscles later,” Sam whispered. “And I’ll warn the kids to let you sleep in tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed. He had to work, of course, but the way he trailed his thumb across my palm, I had high hopes he’d do more than soothe my aches.

The checklist, the dry bag, and the promise of a good fuck made it well worth enduring the kids bellowing their favorite songs at full volume.

Yes, they were loud and messy, and it was still hard to cope with the noise, but my system had already accepted them as kin. My kin.

“I love you.”

Sam lifted our hands and pressed a kiss to mine. “I love you, too.”

Your room key is waiting…