I want them.
All three. Tonight. Now.
I want Reid's steady hands and Jace's mouth and Owen's intensity. I want to be held down and taken apart and put back together. I want to feel three different versions of want directed at me simultaneously and I want to drown in it because I am alive, I am still here, I was not found, and the future I imagined is still possible and I am going to reach for it with both hands.
I walk to the table.
Jace sees me coming and pulls me onto his lap in one smooth motion, his arm around my waist, his grin wide and warm. "There she is. Missed you."
I look at him. Then at Reid. Then at Owen.
"I want to go home."
Jace tilts his head. "You sure? Because this girl up there is actually killing it. Like, genuinely talented."
"Jace." I hold his gaze. Then I look at each of them, slowly, deliberately, letting them see what's in my eyes. "I'm ready to go home."
Owen goes still. A different stillness than his usual, sharper, more focused. His pale blue eyes search my face.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"I'm sure."
Reid is already standing. He pulls cash from his wallet, drops it on the table. Jace lifts me off his lap and is on his feet in the same motion. Owen rises from his chair with the controlled efficiency of a man who has made a decision and is now executing it.
We leave the bar. The cold air hits my face and I welcome it, the sharp clean shock of it after the heat and the noise and the last forty minutes of emotional whiplash. The parking lot. The truck. Gravel under boots.
Jace reaches for the back door and I stop him.
"You three in front," I say. "I'll be in the back."
Jace looks at me. Opens his mouth. Closes it.
"Anticipation," I say. And I climb into the back seat alone and close the door.
Reid drives. Nobody speaks.
The engine rumbles through the frame and up through the seat beneath me. Cold air seeps through the window seals, raising goosebumps along my arms. I can see the back of three heads in the front seat. Reid's eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. Hold. Return to the road. Find me again.
Jace's hand is gripping his own knee. Owen is staring straight ahead.
The silence in the truck is a physical thing. It has weight and texture and heat. Every mile of it builds pressure. The dark road, the headlights cutting through the valley, the mountains black against the sky. I sit in the back seat with my thighs pressed together and my pulse between my legs.
The truck pulls up to the cabin. Engine off. Silence.
Jace opens his door and is at mine in three seconds. His hands find my waist as I step down and then his mouth is on mine, urgent, tasting of beer and cold air, his body pressing me against the side of the truck. His kiss is pure Jace, hungry and direct and slightly impatient, and I feel how hard he is against my hip.
"Inside." Owen's voice from behind us. Firm. "Before we freeze."
Jace doesn't break the kiss. He grips my thighs, lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist and feel the full length of him press against me through our clothes. He carries me up the steps, through the door, into the warmth of the cabin, kissing me the entire time.
Inside the fire has burned down to embers, the room warm and low-lit. Jace carries me to the living room and then, without warning, he puts me down and turns me in his arms so I'm facing forward.
Reid is standing there.
Jace's hands release me and Reid's hands catch me, one at my waist, one at the back of my neck, and he kisses me. Slow where Jace was fast. Deep where Jace was urgent. His beard scrapes my chin and his tongue slides against mine and the contrast between the two kisses, one still buzzing on my lips, the other replacing it, makes me dizzy.
Hands at the hem of my sweater. Behind me. Two sets. Jace's quick fingers and Owen's deliberate ones, working together without discussion, pulling the red sweater up and over my head. Cool air on my skin. My bra unclasps. Slides down my arms. Gone.
