My eyes find Declan last, afraid of what I might see. His dark gaze is intense, unwavering.
"I need to explain to you what happened. Why I was in prison..." he begins.
"You don't have to. I know you. It wasn't because of that..." I start, but he carries on.
"I want to tell you. I feel ashamed but I don't regret what I did, if that makes sense... Long story short, this neighbor of mine was violent to his wife. One day I interfered and... let him taste his own medicine. The police came, took me to jail and the woman refused to testify. So I was convicted of assault."
Something breaks inside me then, the last wall, the final defense. Tears spill over, running hot down my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I thought I was protecting you, but I should have trusted you. I should have told you the truth."
"Hey," Mateo says softly, his hand finding mine. "We found our way back, didn't we?"
"I just..." My voice catches. I look down at our joined hands, then up at each of them in turn. "I love you," I say, the words rushing out before I can overthink them. "All of you."
The room goes still. For a terrible moment, I think I've misread everything.
Then Ethan's arm slips around my shoulders, pulling me gently against him. "Jade," he murmurs, his lips against my hair. "I love you too."
Mateo lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Te amo, mi reina," he says, dimples deepening as he smiles. "Always have."
Declan rises from his chair, crossing to kneel in front of me despite his injury. His good hand reaches up to brush a tear from my cheek.
Something settles in my chest, a weight lifting, a space filling. I lean forward, resting my forehead against Declan's, one hand still in Mateo's, Ethan's arm warm around me.
For a moment, we just breathe together.
"You should be resting," I tell Declan eventually, reluctant to break the moment but concerned about his injury.
He gives me a rare smile. "I'm right where I need to be."
"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving," Mateo announces, rising from the couch with a stretch. "Let's see what we can scrounge up in the kitchen."
The domestic simplicity of the suggestion makes me laugh through my tears. "I think Gloria stocked the fridge yesterday."
Ethan helps Declan to his feet, and we move as a unit to the kitchen, the heart of the house, the place where we first began to feel like a family.
Mateo takes charge, directing operations with his usual flair. Ethan chops vegetables. Declan's massive frame leans against the counter, offering suggestions. I set the table, pour wine, move among them in a dance that feels both new and familiar.
Conversation flows easily, punctuated by Mateo's jokes, Ethan's dry observations, Declan's rare but impactful comments.
Under the table, our feet touch, our hands find each other. The boundaries that once seemed so important have dissolved.
Later, as we clear the table together, I realize I'm smiling, a real smile, not the practiced one I've worn for camerasall my life. I catch Ethan watching me, a softness in his eyes I'm still getting used to seeing.
"What?" I ask.
"You look happy," he says simply.
I glance around at the three of them: Mateo singing softly in Spanish as he loads the dishwasher, Declan carefully wiping down the counter with his good arm, Ethan watching me with that quiet intensity.
"I am," I reply, and the truth of it settles deep in my bones.
Outside, rain begins to fall, a gentle patter against the windows that only enhances the coziness within. We migrate to the living room, bodies gravitating naturally toward each other on the large sectional.
I find myself in the middle, Ethan's arm around my shoulders, Mateo's head in my lap, Declan's solid presence at my side. The weight of them, the warmth, the steady rhythm of their breathing, it feels right. It feels like something I've been searching for my entire life without knowing what I was missing.
"We should talk about..." Ethan begins, ever the practical one.
