The kitchen isn’t empty when I walk in.
Ryker is already there, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand. Black shirt, sleeves pushed up slightly. He looks like he hasn’t slept much.
His eyes lift the second my heels touch the tiles.
Before either of us speaks, the back door opens and Jace strolls in, stretching his arms over his head.
He stops when he sees me.
“Well,” he says slowly, grin spreading. “Look who’s back in the kitchen.”
I raise my eyebrows, crossing my arms. “I live here.”
“Yeah,” he replies casually, grabbing a bottle of water. “But last time someone walked through this kitchen in the middle of the night, apparently it was an angel.”
I blink. “An angel?”
Ryker goes still.
Jace leans back against the counter. “Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Walked in, and then s
