I stand, pacing without meaning to, my thoughts racing fast.
One by one, they rise too, the space tightening as they surround me.
I feel it then—not just fear, not just desire, but the sudden, terrifying relief of permission.
“I want…” I swallow. “I want to stop pretending I’m not affected by all of you.”
Jesse rasps. “Abilene…”
“I want to be honest,” I continue. “About how safe Wyatt makes me feel. About how seen Marshall makes me feel. About how alive Jesse makes me feel.”
The words hang there, fragile and electric.
“I don’t know what that means,” I whisper. “I don’t know what it looks like. I just know that choosing one of you feels like cutting off a part of myself I didn’t know existed until now.”
Silence.
Then Wyatt steps closer, just near enough that I feel him.
“We wouldn’t do this unless you wanted it,” he says. “Unless we talked. Unless everything was clear.”
Marshall nods. “No pressure. No assumptions.”
Jesse’s gaze holds mine, intense but careful. “You get to say no. At any point.”
My chest feels tight and full at the same time.
I nod. “I know.”
The realization settles in my bones, warm and frightening and undeniable.
I’m not being pulled apart.
I’m being invited in.
Jesse moves first, sliding his hand to my waist, pausing there like he’s asking permission without words.
I don’t pull away.
Wyatt’s fingers brush my arm. Marshall steps closer behind me, his presence an anchor at my back.
My breath stutters.
“This is…” I whisper.
Wyatt smiles softly. “Different.”
My pulse roars in my ears. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m doing something wrong.
I feel like I’m stepping into my truth.
And when Jesse leans in, slow and careful, giving me every chance to stop him…
I don’t. I close the distance instead.
The kiss is unhurried, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll change my mind. I rise onto my toes, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his flannel. He exhales against my lips when I tug, silently asking.
“Yes,” I whisper.
