Page 274 of Boys Who Hunt

“So why did you want me to come?” Ivy asks.

Max waits for us at the top of the stairs. “You ready?”

She looks awfully confused. “For what?”

“It’ll all be clear the moment you see,” Max says, and he hooks his arm around hers. “C’mon.” He impatiently drags her to the guest room.

“You sure this was a good idea? What if she doesn’t like it?” Heath grumbles.

“She will,” I say, following them through the hallway.

Max puts his hands in front of her eyes. “Wait until I say you can look.”

“Okay … This is awkward,” Ivy says. “What kind of secret is this?”

He opens the door and the curtains and turns on the lights. “Open your eyes.”

She looks around and marvels at the newly painted walls, the decor, and all the new furniture inside the guest room.

“What … what is this?”

“Your new room. On the weekends anyway,” I say, smirking.

“You redid it all for me?” she says, tears in her eyes.

Heath opens the closet door and shows her the rows and rows of new clothes and shoes, and he holds up one of the size cards. “That’s you, right?”

She touches the fabrics and nods like she’s dreaming.

“And that’s not all,” Max says, opening the next door. It leads into our second guest room, which has been filled with all thetoys a small girl like Cora could ever wish for. “She’ll never be bored.”

“I … I don’t know what to say,” she says.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Heath states.

“We just want you two to be happy,” Max declares.

“While you’re our guest,” I add, raising a brow. “Which will happen every weekend.”

“Oh?” She grins. “You’ve made plans?”

“You made the deal, not me,” I say, folding my arms. “And I thought I was being more than generous by allowing you the week off to catch your breath after we fuck you senseless.”

“Though, I can’t promise I won’t visit your home every weekday too,” Heath says, clearing his throat.

“Same,” Max says, giggling as he comes to stand beside us. “I can’t wait for her to see it.”

She frowns. “See what?”

I throw her a key, and she catches it just before it hits her in the chest.

“Rosewood Street, 320. Downtown Crescent Vale City. A three-bedroom, two-story house with two bathrooms, a garage, and your own fenced yard. It’s yours.”

For a moment, she merely stares at me in disbelief.

“You didn’t have a house anymore, right?” Heath says. “Now you do.”

Suddenly, she runs up to us and wraps her arms around all three of us, squishing us together so tightly I can’t even breathe.