I wrap my arms around both of them, drawing them in until there’s no space left between us.Barret’s hand rests on my stomach, Cleo’s fingers trail across my chest, and I feel their weight settle, their bodies molding against me as though they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.
This.
This is everything I never thought I could have.Not just their bodies, but their trust.Not just their desire, but their love.The quiet after, where no one has to speak but everything is said in the way we hold on.
I kiss the top of Cleo’s head.I press my cheek to Barret’s hair.And I let myself breathe—deep, full, unguarded—because for the first time, I believe it’s real.
I hold them closer, feeling Barret’s weight melt into me, his leg tangled with mine.Cleo’s breath steadies against my chest, warm and even, her hand splayed over my heart like she’s keeping it there for herself.
For a while, I just breathe them in.The salt of sweat still clinging to their skin, the faint sweetness of Cleo’s shampoo, the warmth of Barret pressed tight against my side.Every inhale draws them deeper into me, every exhale sinks me further into the peace I didn’t know I’d been missing.
Cleo stirs first, murmuring something low against my chest—half words, half dreams.I kiss her hair, whispering, “Sleep, princess.I’ve got you.”Her body softens completely, her fingers twitching once before she drifts off.
Barret shifts next, his arm sliding across my waist, his lips brushing my collarbone in a barely-there kiss.“Don’t let go,” he mumbles, voice wrecked with exhaustion.
“Never,” I promise, tightening my arm around him.He exhales against my skin, the sound heavy with trust, and within moments his breathing deepens, steady and slow.
They’re asleep—both of them—wrapped around me like I’m something worth holding onto.And maybe, just maybe, I believe it tonight.
My eyes grow heavy, their warmth pulling me under.The last thing I feel is Cleo’s heartbeat against my chest, Barret’s breath at my neck, and the quiet certainty that this—us—is forever.
I relax, finally, and fall asleep between them.
ChapterThirty-Eight
Cleo
I wake slowly.Sunlight spills across my skin, gentle and warm.The sheets hold the heat of the night, the air is still, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I have no desire to move because I’m not alone.
Barret is curled into my front, his head tucked against my neck, his breath warm where it ghosts across my collarbone.One of his hands is tangled in my hair like he fell asleep holding on.Behind me, Eddie is a solid line of heat, his chest pressed to my back, his arm draped heavy around both of us.His breathing brushes against the shell of my ear in slow, even waves, his thigh hooked over mine.
We’re tangled in every possible way, and yet I’ve never felt more at peace.
I shift just slightly, my fingertips brushing across Barret’s shoulder, tracing the slope of muscle there.He stirs but doesn’t wake, just burrows closer, like he’s searching for me even in his sleep.Eddie’s arm tightens around us instinctively, pulling us closer into his hold.
I smile against Barret’s hair, memories of last night rushing through me all at once—the sound of Eddie’s voice, the way Barret trembled, the way I gave myself over completely and felt them both give back.It wasn’t just sex.It wasn’t even just love.It was everything—what home is meant to feel like.
I let my hand drift lower, brushing over Barret’s chest, down to where Eddie’s arm cages us in.My thumb strokes his skin absently, and I feel him stir behind me, his lips brushing the top of my shoulder.
“Mm,” he hums, voice rough with sleep.“Good morning, princess.”
My chest aches at the sound.“Morning.”
Barret mumbles something unintelligible, squeezing me tighter before going still again.I laugh quietly, brushing the hair off his forehead.“He’s not waking up any time soon.”
“Let him sleep,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my head.His voice is quieter now, gentler.“We wore him out.”
I bite my lip, warmth spreading through me at the memory.“We wore each other out.”
Eddie chuckles, low and sleepy, his hand finding mine where it rests on Barret’s chest.He threads our fingers together and squeezes.
And that’s when it crashes over me, sudden and overwhelming: this is ours.Messy, imperfect, intense—and still, it feels like the truest thing I’ve ever known.
I press my face into Barret’s hair, inhale the faint mix of sweat and soap, and let myself feel it.The security.The softness.The possibility.
Behind me, Eddie shifts, his lips brushing the curve of my shoulder.His voice is low, roughened by sleep, but there’s an edge there too—uncertainty he can’t quite hide.
“You okay, princess?”he whispers.“You don’t ...regret any of it, do you?Fuck—I should’ve asked sooner.I should’ve checked if I went too far.”
