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Kamden immediately forgets about the box the moment the door swings open, and leans around me, trying to peek inside. “Can I—?”
“Go.”
He doesn’t need telling twice.
He bolts past me, sneakers scuffing against the doormat, and just fucking runs straight into my house like he’s been doing it for years—no hesitation whatsoever.
The sight of it has me grinning like a madman.
“Where’s my room?” he calls from somewhere near the living room.
“Hallway, second door on the right.”
I listen to his footsteps fade down the hall, then go quiet.
“Oh, my God!” I hear him squeal.
Stepping inside, I disengage the alarm with a few practiced motions and drop my keys into the ceramic dish on the entry table. Then I head back out for the box.
It’s heavier than it looks. I grunt, heaving it up into both arms, annoyed by how much effort it takes just to get the damn thing across the threshold. Definitely not lightweight. Whoever sent this spent serious money on shipping alone.
I set it down with a soft thud in the center of the living room rug.
“Kammie.”
No answer. From down the hall comes the sound of a drawer sliding open.
“Kamden!”
His head pops around the corner, hair slightly mussed. “What?”
“Come open the mystery package.”
His eyes light up. “Me?”
“I already verified it’s not going to explode, and it’s not leaking anything. It’s too heavy to be—” On second thought, it’s probably best not to say what I’m thinking. “—anything… bad.”
God, watch it be a fucking human torso drained of all its blood or some shit.
He disappears again.
“Kamden? Box.”
“Sorry! I just wanted to peek at the bathroom!”
“You will still have a bathroom in five minutes.”
“But there’s a bathtub!” he calls back, voice pitching with delight. “And it’s so deep!”
I close my eyes. I already know exactly where this is going. Bath products, bath toys, probably bubbles. Maybe some ridiculous fluffy robe.
My bank account has survived weapons purchases, international travel, bribes, and years of Quillan dragging me into expensive places while high.
Yet a nineteen-year-old with a Pinterest-worthy childhood fantasy may finally kill it. Primarily because I’ll be his biggest enabler.
“Kammie.”
“Coming!”
