Rosemary PoV
After our serious talk, we sat down together on the sofa, the heavy tension that had settled over the room finally clearing out like a bad draft.
Saffron took his place right beside me, his broad shoulder a solid, comforting weight against mine. He stretched one arm across the back of the cushions, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of my collar in that quiet, instinctive way he had of grounding us both. Across the coffee table, Sil immediately dove back toward the cushions, snatched the remote, and jabbed the unmute button like a man possessed.
The quiet living room erupted once more with the shrieking roar of race engines tearing across asphalt.
"Final two laps!" Sil shouted, his whole body tensing as he gripped his imaginary steering wheel again. He leaned so far forward his nose was practically level with the screen. "Look at him—he's closin' the gap on the back straight! Slipstream him, ya idiot! Don't let him push ya wide!"
