Caleb kisses the side of my head, gentle as rain. “We don’t say things we don’t mean.”
“But I just— I don’t know if I’m ready for—”
“We know,” Caleb says. “We’re not askin’ for right now. Or tomorrow. Or next month.”
Wade leans in, eyes locked on mine. “We’re askin’ you to let yourself imagine a future where you’re loved and taken care of. Where we’re a team.”
A sob catches in my throat. I cover my face, but Wade gently pulls my hands away.
“Don’t hide from us, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “Not ever.”
I crumble then, right into Caleb’s chest, and his arms wrap around me instantly. Wade comes in behind me, his palm warm against my back, and for a moment I’m held.
“Let us take care of you,” Caleb whispers into my hair.
“Let us love you,” Wade echoes.
My tears come harder. They taste like relief. Like release. Like the future I’ve been too scared to imagine settling right in front of me. Caleb nudges my chin up and kisses me sosweetly that it pulls the air from my lungs. When he lifts his head, Wade is already scooping me into his arms.
“Upstairs,” Wade says, voice thick.
Caleb trails behind us, his hand on my back, his breath warm against my shoulder as Wade carries me toward his room. The room that’s becoming ours.
Wade lays me gently on the bed, brushing hair from my eyes. Caleb sits beside me, fingers tracing my waist.
“We’re gonna show you,” Caleb murmurs, leaning in to kiss the corner of my trembling mouth, “exactly how loved you are.”
Wade’s voice rumbles low. “And exactly who you belong to.”
They come down over me slow, gentle, and reverent. Two men who would fight the world for me. Two men who want to build a life, a family, a forever with me.
Two men who’ve become my home.
Chapter 26
Wade
It still surprises me sometimes how fast Joelle turned our old house into a place that looks, smells, and feels like a home. The place used to be a halfway decent structure with some furniture and a coffee pot, and more dust balls than residents. Now it’s halfway to looking like a show home out of a country decorating magazine.
She’s been cleaning and sorting like she’s nestin’ for winter. Dust doesn’t stand a chance. Every forgotten corner has been cleared and swept. She found pictures of our family I didn’t even remember, and framed ’em, putting them on the walls in every room. There are flowers on the kitchen table. Blankets folded over the back of the couch. Little C’s toys scattered in ways that make the place feel alive instead of lonely.
What gets me most is how proud she looks every time she makes a change. It could be a cushion, a picture, or a damn kitchen towel, like she’s rebuilding her life one minoralteration at a time.
This afternoon, she sent me into town for a rug she picked out from a catalog. Some soft beige thing with blue diamonds that she said would pull the family room together. I don’t understand rugs or how family rooms can be pulled anywhere, but I understand her eyes lighting up when she talks about them.
And because I can’t seem to stop myself, I picked up something else I ordered for her.
I arrive home when the sun is sinking past the far ridge, and the sky is the bruised-purple color Joelle likes so much. The house is quiet. Caleb will be out with the others, finishing off the last of the work. Upstairs, Little C will already be settled into his crib, stuffed blue rabbit clutched in his arms.
I lug the rug inside. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, finding Joelle sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of sweet tea.
Her eyes brighten immediately, and she jumps up to help me unroll the rug, the soft blue diamonds catching the lamplight. The woman beams like I presented her with a diamond ring. We’re saving up for that, but Joelle’s clueless of our intentions.
“Oh, Wade,” she murmurs, smoothing her hands over it. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Glad you think so,” I say. “Let’s get it into the right room.”
I haul it down the hallway and into the family room. I have to drag the couch up with one hand so she can center it.
