The hall is quiet as we walk, our footsteps soft on the worn stairs. Boone’s door is just ahead, light seeping faintly from the edges.
And then we hear it.
A low moan.
Shepard stops dead. I freeze beside him. The sound carries again, unmistakable this time. A woman’s moan. Her.
Shepard glances at me, then covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “Well,” he whispers, “guess he’s awake.”
Another noise, Boone’s voice this time. “Is that you guys?”
Shepard snorts, unable to hold it in.
I find my voice, calling back flatly, “Seems you’re preoccupied. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
There’s a murmur inside, muffled, then Boone’s voice again. “Give me a minute.”
The door swings open. Boone fills the frame, shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray shorts. His chest gleams faintly with sweat, his hair mussed. Behind him, Sadie sits on a chair, swallowed in one of his long T-shirts, her legs tucked beneath her.
“Everything okay?” Boone asks, his voice calm but carrying an edge.
I clear my throat, trying not to let my gaze linger too long on the picture behind him. “Yeah. We just wanted to talk.”
His eyes flick between us, wary. Shepard crosses his arms, still biting back a grin.
Boone tilts his head, assessing us both. “Then come in.”
He steps aside, letting us in. The apartment smells like food and sex, the air heavy with her scent. Sadie’s curled on the chair, Boone’s T-shirt sliding off one shoulder, hair a mess, eyes watchful. She looks like sin and softness wrapped together, and I have to force myself not to stare too long.
Shepard moves past me, his usual calm slipping back over him like armor. Boone shuts the door behind us, leaning on it for a second as if steadying himself.
I clear my throat. “We wanted to talk.”
Boone’s eyes flick between us, cautious. “About?”
“You know what about,” Shepard says. His voice isn’t sharp, but it’s steady.
Sadie leans forward, pulling her knees closer to her chest under the shirt. “Then let’s talk.”
The four of us settle awkwardly—the couch, the chair, Boone dragging another seat closer. For a moment it feels like a standoff, all of us waiting for someone else to start.
Finally, Boone breaks the silence. “She laid it out earlier. What she wants. What she’s asking for. We need to be clear about whether we’re in or out.”
I glance at Sadie. Her expression is calm, but her hands are twisted in the hem of Boone’s shirt. She’s nervous, too.
“I’m not asking you to change who you are,” she says softly. “I’m asking if you’re willing to try. That’s all. To see if this works without tearing each other apart.”
The weight of it presses down. I let out a slow breath. “I’ve never done this. Not like this. But… I want you. I want to see where it goes.”
Her eyes soften. Boone looks at me, something flickering across his face—relief, maybe.
Shepard exhales. “Same.”
Boone leans back, crossing his arms. “Alright then. We try. But slow. Careful. No one’s forcing anything.”
Sadie nods, her lips parting like she’s about to speak, but Boone holds up a hand. “And we keep it honest. If it’s too much, if someone can’t handle it—we say it. Out loud.”
“Agreed,” Shepard and I say at the same time.
