But I need her in my arms.
So I kiss her.
She rises onto her toes, mouth opening for mine, theheat of her unraveling me. Her tongue slides into my mouth, and I taste her like it’s the first time.
I murmur against her mouth, my voice rough with restraint. “Tell me if anything hurts.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, breath warm and unsteady. “Everything hurts.” Her lips brush mine again. “Still want you.”
She cups her hand around my cock, and I smile against her mouth.
Then…a knock.
“Anton?”
We freeze, and the door pushes open.
Freya jerks her hand back and smooths her hair.
Ava lifts an auburn brow, one hand on her hip, the other holding a paper bag.
“Huh,” she says casually. “That’s not the kind of work I thought you did out here.”
Freya’s mouth twists into a bashful smile.
Ava holds up the bag. “I brought breakfast. And also came to check you didn’t tear your stitches or attempt to hero your way through a bullet wound.” She puts the bag on my bench. “But today it just looks like you’re trying to save the human race.”
Freya lets out a muffled laugh.
Ava smirks. “You know you can only have one baby at a time?”
She points to the bag on the workbench and glances between us. “There are donuts in there. Enough to feed your next generation.”
“Thank you,” I say.
She contemplates us for a beat, then plants a hand on her hip. “So. Now that you two are officially a thing…what does that make me?”
Freya tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Ava says thoughtfully, “if Anton is my bruncle, does that make you my saunt? Or my aunter?” She frowns slightly, genuinely working through the logistics. “But really, you feel more like a sister.”
Freya glances at me, amusement tugging the corners of her mouth.
Everything in the world locks into place.
Ava nods to herself. “We’ll workshop it.”
She steps closer, admiring Freya, and I know she has sympathy for all she’s been through. Her gaze drops to Freya’s belly, and she hovers her hands for half a second before glancing up at Freya. “May I?”
Freya nods.
Ava presses her palm gently to her belly, her expression shifting into something quiet and reverent without making a show of it. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she murmurs. “All of you.”
Freya’s hand covers Ava’s, and I feel it then—the shape of something bigger than the three of us settling into place.
Ava straightens, clearing her throat like she didn’t just get emotional in a woodshop. “Anyway.” She points vaguely at us. “I’ll pretend I didn’t interrupt whatever that was.”
The door closes behind her.
