Unsteady

by Peyton Corinne

and a cold brew special, which means maple syrup, toffee nut, and a splash of condensed milk, for Rhys. I nearly swallowed my tongue as I listened to him order my go-to drink.

“Sure.” Oliver shrugs. He takes Liam’s arm and pulls him along behind him. “Come on, Anakin, leave them alone.”

“I’m not in my Jedi robes, Oliver. I’m Darth Vader.”

Does she know I’d kneel for her forever if it meant she’d look at me like that?

“Still. This”—he gestures widely—“this life we have, it’s nothing without you safe and happy. That is all I want. I love you, son.”

rings twice before a gruff voice snarls, “What the fuck do you want, asshole?” I pause, nearly choking on my own spit at the furious male growl that definitely isn’t Ro. Something uncomfortable slithers down my spine. “Is this not Ro’s number?” I ask, my voice steady, slightly calm, but still firm: my “Captain Rhys” voice, some on my team might call it. There’s a long pause, then a much lighter sounding, “Rhys?” My eyes bug out and I cough. “Freddy?”

As I pull up to my parents’ house, I hear Oliver almost choke on his milkshake—that is somehow not empty—while Liam audibly squeals. “You live in a castle?” Liam asks, blinking wide at the colonial that’s been completely refurbished.

“Don’t be ridiculous, kotyonok. You can take it.”

“My girlfriend?” Rhys asks, smugly hovering over my shoulder. I can’t look at him, terrified that I’ve made up everything in my head and that this wasn’t what he wanted. But a green mug of coffee with some sort of slightly misshapen design in the foam slides in front of me. “What’s this?” “It’s… ah, latte foam art. It’s supposed to be a flower.” He says it sheepishly, quiet. “I love it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, Gray,” he whispers. Another kiss to the corner of my mouth. “My girl.”

dochka,”

This means daughter lol