Three Doors Away

3. 10-13

“Hihihihi my mom said to invite you guys to come over! To…uh…something…celebat?…celebrate?”

"Celebrate," Ezren corrected instantly, his tone slipping effortlessly into that of a meticulous tutor as he adjusted his glasses, though the sharp, critical edge in his voice was entirely absent. He was already mentally cataloging the invitation, calculating the exact social protocols required: formal etiquette, appropriate greetings for adults, and the precise amount of time they were expected to stay. Yet, beneath the analytical machinery of his mind, a thrill of quiet satisfaction ran deep.

An invitation. An open door straight into her domain. "Your mother is hosting a housewarming gathering, correct? It’s only polite that we attend. We wouldn’t want to be poor neighbors."

Rodyn’s smile grew sweeter, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling with a warmth that felt entirely disarming, though his mind was already racing ahead, picturing what her house looked like and how he could use this chance to map out every single room. He leaned in just a fraction closer to her, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, honeyed murmur meant only for her. "Of course we'll come, Maddie. You don't even have to ask twice. Tell your mom we wouldn't miss it for the world... especially since the host is so charming."

Flynn didn't bother with words or elaborate calculations. At the mention of stepping inside her house—of getting a firsthand look at where she lived, where she slept, and where she kept her things—a dark, possessive spark flashed in the depths of his eyes. He gave a slow, deliberate nod, his heavy gaze never leaving her face.

"We'll be there," Flynn said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sounded less like a polite RSVP and more like an oath. He reached out, his calloused fingers lightly brushing against the back of her hand where she clutched her stuffed bunny, anchoring her to the spot. "Lead the way, Maddie."

“Woooohooo! Lets go!! I’ll show you guys my other bunnies, and and many many friends!!”

"Other... bunnies?" Ezren repeated, his analytical stride stuttering for a fraction of a second as his brain immediately tried to compute the logistical nightmare of multiple stuffed animals competing for her attention. A faint, proprietary twitch crossed his jaw. He stood up, brushing a stray blade of grass from his trousers with unnecessary precision. "One rabbit is manageable from a structural standpoint. More than one introduces... redundancy. But I suppose we can inspect your collection to ensure they meet proper storage and hygiene standards."

Rodyn let out a soft, musical laugh, his eyes lighting up with genuine amusement as he watched her little victory hop. He stepped right in beside her, effortlessly matching her pace as she turned to lead the way, his gaze lingering on the bobbing motion of her hair and the flutter of her baby-blue dress. "Lead on, little bird," he murmured, his voice smooth and dripping with a honeyed affection that completely masked the sharp, calculating satisfaction blooming in his chest. Her room. Her sanctuary. He was already mentally mapping out the hallway layout from the corner house to hers, locking away every detail for future use. "Show us all your friends. Though, I warn you—no matter how many rabbits you have, none of them are going to take Vivi's place... or ours."

Flynn didn't say a single word. He simply fell into step directly behind her, his heavy, deliberate footsteps forming a protective barrier at her back, as if shielding her from the rest of the world even in the safety of their quiet neighborhood. His dark eyes scanned the perimeter of the street, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line. Other friends? The thought of anyone else sharing her space, holding her hand, or making her smile like that sent a dark, primal spike of possessive irritation through his thirteen-year-old chest. Let them try, he thought coldly, his fingers twitching instinctively as he closed his fists. No one else was allowed in her inner circle.

He lengthened his stride slightly to keep pace with her skipping, his low voice cutting through the afternoon air like a heavy anchor. "Don't run too fast, Maddie. You'll trip in those shoes."