Page 126 of Grim

Sophia laughed. “You’re the one glowing.”

Rook grinned, resting a hand on Avery’s belly. “She’s reorganizing the entire apartment. I’m scared.”

Avery smacked his arm. “It’s called preparing, Noah.”

Grim actually smiled, a small, rare, soft thing, watching them bicker. Sophia’s heart warmed.

Lacey appeared beside them with a bright smile, slipping an arm around Sophia in a quick, warm squeeze. “You look beautiful,” she said softly, the kind of compliment that felt like a hug. “And those empanadas smell insane.”

Havoc, from across the yard, shouted, “BACK OFF, LACEY, I SAW THEM FIRST!”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. I always do.”

Brick and Ghost were manning the grill, Ghost flipping burgers while Brick tried (and failed) to keep Havoc from dumping half a bottle of hot sauce into the chili.

“Dude, stop,” Brick groaned. “People gotta eat this.”

Havoc climbed onto the picnic table — not dramatically, just Havoc being Havoc — waving an empanada like it was evidence in a court case.

“Alright, everybody shut up,” he announced. “I need to make something clear.”

The yard quieted, mostly because Havoc making declarations usually meant trouble.

He pointed at Sophia. “These empanadas? They’re dangerous.”

Sophia blinked. “Dangerous?”

Havoc nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Because if you keep cooking like this, Grim’s gonna have to fight off half the damn club.”

A few guys laughed. Grim did not.

Havoc held up the empanada. “I’m just saying, if she ever dumps you, Grim, I’m putting in my application.”

Grim’s head snapped toward him. “Havoc.”

Havoc shrugged. “What? I’m being respectful. I’m waiting my turn.”

Sophia snorted. “There is no turn.”

“See?” Havoc said, pointing at her. “Heartbreaker.”

Grim took a step forward, eyes narrowing.

Stone grabbed his arm. “Grim. He’s joking.”

Havoc grinned. “Mostly.”

Sophia laughed — really laughed — and the whole club lit up with it. Havoc puffed his chest like he’d won a prize.

For a split second, just one, Havoc’s grin softened. Not the wild, reckless one he wore like armor, but something quieter. Warmer. Proud. Like her laughter meant something to him in a way he’d never admit out loud.

His eyes flicked to Grim, then back to her, and there was understanding there. A kind she didn’t expect from him. A kind that said he saw more than he let on.

Then, just as quickly, the moment vanished beneath his usual chaos.

“Worth it,” he said, taking a huge bite of the empanada. “Totally worth dying for.”

The yard erupted in warm, familiar laughter, the kind that felt like home.