“For grounding,” Caleb says quietly. “When things feel too loud.”
The second box holds a cookbook. Vintage, margins worn, notes scribbled in the edges.
Silas grins. “Because you cook like someone who belongs in history.”
My chest aches.
The third box…
A charmed bracelet.
I can’t speak.
Silas steps closer. “Delaney, I love you. I’ve been holding back from telling you because… well, I was scared. But I’m not anymore. Iloveyou.”
The words land solid. No flourish. No manipulation.
Caleb follows. “I love you too. Not in a rushed way. In a choosing you every day way.”
Boone meets my gaze, intensity unflinching. “I love you. And I won’t take it back tomorrow.”
My breath shudders.
“I…” I swallow hard. “I love you too. All of you. This…” I gesture helplessly around the table, the flowers, the effort, the care. “This feels like family.”
Silas’s mouth crashes into mine. A question and an answer all at once, hot, demanding, desperate. His hand fists in the side of my shirt, dragging me closer as his mouth parts mine, and I melt. There’s no space, no oxygen, no logic. Just the burn of his kiss and the way he groans low in his throat when I kiss him back just as hard.
I gasp when his hand slides up my spine, cradling me close, guiding me gently but firmly out of the chair and towards him.
And he’s solid.
Muscle and restraint, a man made of tension just waiting to snap. His other hand finds my jaw, thumb sweeping the corner of my mouth as he deepens the kiss.
My fingers curl in the front of his shirt. I can’t get close enough. I want to climb into his skin. To forget everything except the feel of his mouth and the heat between us and the way he’s kissing me passionately.
Just as I start to lose myself, I feel another presence beside me.
It’s Boone.
His fingers brush my shoulder, and then his lips are on my neck, soft and teasing. It starts as a suggestion. A nuzzle of his nose, heat blooming where his stubble grazes my skin.
Then he kisses the spot just beneath my ear, tentative at first, then insistent, and my knees go weak. Boone’s arms envelope my waist from behind, calming me, need singeing every nerve as his body presses close.
Hands, Boone’s, I think, though it could be Caleb’s, find the hem of my shirt. Knuckles brush skin just above my jeans, and my head tips back against Boone’s chest as he lets out a low laugh against my throat, breath reverberating through me.
My mouth is still on Silas’s, kissing him desperately, but Boone’s hands pull me back one careful inch at a time.
He lifts me easily, as if I weigh nothing, setting me on the edge of the table. My spine tingles where his hands cling to me, thighs bracketed by their bodies. Boone’s lips trace a possessive line down the side of my neck, stopping just above my collarbone. He bites, then soothes the mark with his tongue, and my pulse hammers everywhere at once.
Silas pulls back just enough to look at me, pupils blown, hands trembling where they frame my face.
“You’re beautiful.”
He needs me to believe him before we go any further.
I feel it.
Caleb’s fingers slip beneath my panties, and the moment he finds how wet I am, he lets out a low, appreciative groan.
