They just stand there, still and hesitant.
I can feel the weight of the fragile peace between us that we somehow managed to build in these stolen moments the past few hours and the lingering ache of everything that’s left still unresolved.
I’m too afraid to break the tentative truce we made earlier, and it freezes me in place too.
Dean moves first.
He steps quietly into the room, dragging his socked feet over the carpet.
His eyes soften when they land on Eli’s sleeping form. “Out cold, huh.”
I nod wordlessly.
Dean moves closer to Eli’s side and leans down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Night, buddy.”
The affection in his voice is enough to crack my chest wide open.
Grant follows, his large frame somehow careful and quiet as he steps forward.
He crouches by the bedside, resting a hand on the blanket near Eli’s arm. “Sleep tight, little man.”
Callum hesitates in the doorway for a moment before stepping in last.
He lingers beside the bed, waiting until the other two move out of the way for her.
His expression is tender and a little reverent as he stares down at the boy that may be his son.
He doesn’t say much, just bends down to press a quick kiss to Eli’s temple and murmurs, “Night, night.”
The sight of all three of them, these men who’ve loved and protected me and my son in ways I can’t even begin to put into words undoes me a little.
The quiet reverence of it, the way their presence fills the room without shattering the peace, the way they each look at him like he’s theirs too…it’s overwhelming.
When they straighten and turn toward me, I have to look away for a moment just to breathe.
Dean touches my shoulder lightly as he crowds close to me, his fingers warm through the fabric of my sweater.
I feel the tremor in his hand before he steadies it, and that tiny betrayal of his own nerves undoes me more than any grand gesture ever could.
He’s here.
They’reallhere.
After I pushed them away, after I blocked them, after I ran…they still showed up.
They still came when I needed them to, even if I didn’t know it at the time.
And just like last time, I find myself being guided out of Eli’s room and down the hall to my own.
The world narrows as my sweater is pulled over my head—Callum’s hands this time, gentle as he tugs it off me and tosses it aside.
Cool air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps, but then Grant is there behind me, his calloused palms sliding along my ribs and warming me from the outside in.
Dean kneels, his fingers working the button of my jeans with the same slow and methodical care he used earlier with Eli’s racetracks.
His eyes never leave mine when he tugs them down past my hips, the fabric gliding over my thighs before pooling at my ankles.
I step out of them, barefoot on the carpet and the vulnerability of it, of standing in nothing but my bra and panties while they’re still fully clothed, should terrify me because this is exactly the kind of free fall I’ve been trying to avoid.
