As we settle onto the mattress, Junes makes a small murmuring sound.
“Easy, doll,” Kai murmurs as she stirs. “Just us. Go back to sleep.”
She burrows closer to Kai, her hand finding his chest, palm pressing flat against his heart, and I shift in behind her, pushing closer to her, my chest to her back, my arm firm around her waist. When I lift my head to check on Carter at the end of the bed, I catch her foot sliding against his forearm, toes curling once before he settles his hand over her ankles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Something in my chest unknots.
This is what we needed, her touch and closeness. The simple reality of being near her.
June shifts again, a small sound escaping her lips, and we all go still. But she’s just getting comfortable.
“She’s perfect,” Kai whispers, barely audible.
No one disagrees.
My eyes are already closing, my face buried in her hair, engulfed by her scent.
I think about what my father said at the BBQ about leaving when you’re on top and not letting the good things slip away.
He’s not wrong. Much as I hate to admit it, the old man knows something about regret. He lost my mother in an accident, and it changed everything—twisted his priorities, hardened him in places that used to be soft, left a hole he never figured out how to live with. And now he’s got Marlene, pretty, young, surface-level Marlene, and I see the way he looks at her sometimes. Like he’s trying to convince himself it’s enough, like if he keeps it light, he can’t lose it the way he lost Mom.
I don’t want that. I want the messy, complicated, all-consuming real thing.
And she’s right here, sleeping in a bed surrounded by three men who would burn the world down for her. She has no idea how much power she holds.
I let sleep finally pull me under, one hand curved around her like an anchor. And for the first time in years, I don’t dream about the road or the circuit or the endless empty horizon.
I dream about home.
JUNE
Something’s different.
I surface from sleep slowly, awareness seeping in like water through cracks. The room is still dark, that deep, heavy darkness of the hours before dawn, but something has changed. The bed feels different. Warmer. More… crowded.
My eyes flutter open.
And I freeze.
There are men everywhere.
Kai is in front of me, close enough that I feel heat radiate off his bare chest. He’s on his side, one arm stretched out above my head, his face slack and peaceful in sleep. The moonlight catches the dark lines of his tribal tattoo, the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his hair has come loose and spills across the pillow.
I glance over my shoulder to find Seth pressed along my back. A solid wall of his chest fits against me, the slow rise and fall of his breathing soothing me. His arm is draped over my waist, heavy and possessive even in unconsciousness.
And something is at my feet—I shift slightly to confirm—yes, that’s Carter. He’s curled at the foot of the bed, one hand wrapped around my ankle, his cheek pressed against my calf.
When did this happen?
My heart hammers against my ribs as I try to piece it together. I went to bed alone. I’m certain of that, and I recall falling asleep hugging Kai’s pillow, missing the scent of them, wishing?—
Oh.
They snuck in and climbed into bed with me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I should be upset. I should be furious. But I take a breath, and another.
Then I realize that I’m not upset at all.
