Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 121

By the time we make our way back to the main living room, the movie is over. The lights are a little brighter, a few people are already brushing crumbs off their sweatpants and yawning. A half-finished bowl of popcorn sits tilted on the coffee table.

But the moment someone spots Asher, the chaos returns.

“Yooo, where were you?” one of the guys calls out. “Is it true that you can disharm a bomb with, like, a paperclip or something?”

Someone else shouts, “No, dude, it was a bobby pin. I read it online. That’s, like, Navy standard.”

Asher doesn’t even flinch. He just looks at them, deadpan, and says, “Yes.”

The room explodes.

I snort under my breath as I trail behind him, half-shadow, half-accomplice. We find Tyler near the fireplace, mid-sentence with Zoe, who’s twirling her hair around her finger like she’s auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

Asher gives me a look that says let’s get out of here, and I’m all too happy to agree.

“We’re gonna turn in,” I say, nudging Tyler gently. “Come?”

He glances at his phone. “It’s only 11:30.”

“C’mon, Ty,” someone nearby says. “Everyone’s crashing early tonight anyway. We’ve got all week.”

Asher adds smoothly, “Unless you want to walk back to the cabin alone through the woods in the dark, better come with us.”

That gets him.

Tyler straightens immediately. “Right. Yeah. I’ll come.”

Outside, it’s even colder than I remember. The stars are buried behind a wall of clouds and the snow is starting to come down in these light, whispering flakes. It’s quiet—eerily so—except for the crunch of our boots on the packed path.

Tyler breaks the silence first. “Why the hell is it so far? This is like… three miles. Is it even legal to call that a ‘walk’?”

I smile faintly. “I think it’s closer to half a mile.”

“Still. This snow is getting in my shoes. I swear I’m gonna catch pneumonia.”

He’s dramatic. Whiny. But oddly charming in the way he throws his head back like the sky personally wronged him.

“You’re being a baby,” I tell him, teasing.

He grins at me. “You’ll carry me then?”

“In your dreams.”

He chuckles and bumps his shoulder into mine. Just for a moment, I remember what it felt like to laugh with him before things got so… complicated.

The cabin appears like a storybook house in the dark—a low halo of light in the snow, smoke still curling from the chimney. When we step inside, the warmth hits hard. Cozy. Woodsy. A little too quiet.

Tyler steps in and immediately frowns. “Still freezing in here. This fireplace doesn’t do anything.”

“It’s a cabin,” I say, already unzipping my coat. “It’s supposed to be rustic.”

“Yeah well, rustic feels a lot like frostbite.”

Asher’s already near the fire. He grabs the poker, shifts the logs with practiced movements, and a deeper flame blooms to life. The whole place brightens, heat rising in earnest.

“Go on, Captain Survival,” Tyler says, smirking. “Do your thing.”

We take turns in the bathroom changing. Tyler goes first, grumbling the whole time about how cramped the space is, how the light flickers, how he’s positive he saw a spider the size of a racquetball.

When he comes out, he’s already yawning, shirtless now, in flannel pajama pants and thick socks, rubbing at his eyes like a toddler who missed naptime. He belly-flops dramatically onto the bed closest to the fireplace and groans.

“This thing’s like… five inches wider than a coffin,” he announces to the room. “Pen, you’re gonna have to make yourself real small, okay?”

I try to laugh. “I’m always small.”

He pats the mattress beside him, eyes already half-closed. “Then come be my little spoon.”

Behind me, I hear Asher exhale through his nose like he’s biting back twelve different opinions.

I duck into the bathroom and shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a second before changing quickly into soft gray sweats and an old hoodie that smells like my favorite fabric softener — vanilla and something faintly citrusy. I rub a towel through my hair to tame it a bit, then look at myself in the mirror.

There’s still a faint bruise along my temple, a ghost of the fall that got me here. My fingers brush it lightly. Then I take a breath, open the door, and step back into the cabin.

Asher’s already changed too. Black joggers. A fitted dark tee that clings to his shoulders. He’s sitting on the edge of the second bed, boots off, one ankle crossed over the other. His forearms rest on his thighs, and his gaze flicks up the second I enter.

It pins me in place for half a breath.

Then I move.

Tyler’s taken up almost the entire bed — lying on his stomach, arms splayed, blanket barely covering him. I ease onto the mattress beside him, perching on the very edge like a bird scared to ruffle anything.

The mattress dips.

Tyler doesn’t move.

I lie down stiffly, curling in on myself, pulling the blanket up to my chin and tucking my legs in like I'm making myself as compact as humanly possible.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Seriously?” Asher mutters from across the room. “Ty, give her some space.”

But Tyler’s already snoring.

I don’t even look up. “It’s fine,” I whisper.

Asher doesn’t answer.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth. The cabin groans occasionally in the cold, wooden bones shifting under the weight of snow and wind. Outside, tree branches scrape faintly against the side of the cabin — not unlike claws.

Eventually, I fall asleep.

But it doesn’t last.

I wake with a start, the air rushing out of me as I hit the floor. My arm smacks against the wood and my hip takes most of the impact. I groan, dazed.

“Ow.”

The room explodes with movement.

Asher’s up — out of the bed in a single blur of muscle and motion, like a fuse had been lit. His entire body goes rigid, like he’s waiting for an attack.

“What happened?” His voice is low, rough, lethal.

He’s already halfway to me before I can sit up.

I blink up at him, one hand on my elbow. “Tyler,” I mumble. “He… pushed me off. In his sleep.”

Asher’s head snaps toward the bed.

Tyler is still out cold. Sprawled diagonally across the mattress like he’s auditioning for a mattress commercial, completely oblivious.

Asher’s jaw ticks. “This fucking idiot, I'm waking him.”

“No—don’t,” I say quickly, scrambling to my feet and stepping into his path, placing a hand firmly on his chest.

It’s warm. Solid.

A wall.

“If you wake him now,” I whisper, “he’s going to be the moodiest creature alive tomorrow. He didn’t mean it.”

Asher looks like he’s one second away from ignoring me completely.

“He could’ve hurt you,” he growls.

“I landed on a hoodie.” I gesture toward it. “I’m fine.”

His eyes flick back to the bed. To Tyler's limbs, still taking up the entire mattress like he’s allergic to sharing space.

I sigh. “I’ll just push him over.”

“No, you won’t.”

Asher’s voice is final. He steps to the side, gestures toward the other bed. “You’re coming with me.”

I blink. “Wh—what?”

“If you fall again and hit your head? That’s it. You’re out of the gala. Not worth it.”

“I can sleep on the edge—”

“You already did that.”

“But there’s no spac—”

“Penny.” His voice is low. Firm. That tone he uses when he’s already made up his mind. “Lie down.”

I hesitate.

Then he raises one eyebrow.

I obey.

The blanket is still warm from him. The sheets smell faintly of smoke and pine and something even more specific — something that’s just Asher.

I lie on my side, tense and too aware of everything.

He doesn’t lie beside me.

Instead, he sits at the foot of the bed, leans his back against the wall, and pulls my legs gently over his lap.

I stare at him, stunned. “You can’t sleep like that.”

“Sure I can.”

“You’ll be uncomfortable.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept in the back of a moving truck during a monsoon with six men, two rifles, and a dog that wouldn’t stop barking. I'll be fine.”

My mouth opens again, but he shushes me softly, running his palms up and down my calves, over the fabric of my sweats.

His touch is gentle. Steady. Hypnotic.

“Go to sleep, princess,” he says.

And somehow… I do.