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“We’re something, aren’t we?”
I laugh softly, the knot in my chest over our fight loosening. And it shouldn’t, not right after seeing Zane so shattered, but a little voice in the back of my mind whispers that we’re getting somewhere, have some clues to follow, and Dakota will help Zane heal. We’ll all help him, and as for me…
Despite our fight, Dylan is right here, with me, so things can’t be that bad. There’s a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel, hope that our precious little snow-globe of a world can be mended, put back to rights. That happiness and peace was not a pipe dream, but our new standard.
The prize we fought for against all odds, for such a long time.
***
Everyone has left, and the boys are in their room, asleep. At least I think they are. Miles is probably reading some thing or other on his phone, or texting with his friends.
Personally, I’m pretty sure it’s a girl. Dylan says Miles is too young for girls, but that’s just his overprotective big brother side talking. God knows Dylan had been chasing after skirts since he could walk, if the stories are anything to go by.
St
ories told by Dylan himself, no less.
Still, I wanted to thank Miles for being so… grown-up earlier, taking care of the little ones, as if sensing the gravity of the situation. Didn’t get the opportunity to do so before he retreated to his bedroom with Teo.
I check just in case, poking my head inside, and find two lumps under the bed covers. Looks like they’re asleep after all.
My boys. My heart swells with tenderness. They may not be my kids, but they’re Dylan’s siblings, his wards, his own, and so they’re mine, too.
Mine to hold, and cherish, and protect. I wonder if I’ll love our children more.
Not possible. My heart is already full to bursting.
Our children. I bow my head and close the door softly. Never realized how much I wanted it. How the thought makes my heart race and sends butterflies somersaulting in my stomach.
How much I want his babies.
“Tess?” He’s standing by the sofa in the living room, the lamp behind him casting his short blond hair in a fiery halo around his head.
“They’re asleep.”
“I know. I checked three minutes ago.” One side of his mouth lifts in a lazy grin. “Come here, girl.”
As I walk toward him, I smooth my hands over my short skirt. His gaze dips to my legs, and he licks his lips.
Need settles low in my belly. God, he’s like the big bad wolf—if the wolf were all silver and gold, with sky-blue eyes and a body to die for.
“To talk?” I whisper, not sure that’s what I want.
“Yeah, we’ll talk,” he mutters, but his gaze says something completely different as it rakes over me, hot and dark. He reaches for me. “I promise.”
He takes my hand and pulls me after him into our bedroom. I try not to remember Zane sitting there a while ago, his shoulders hunched, eyes full of pain.
Dylan turns on the bedside lamp and flicks off the overhead lights.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. Seems to be my motto of the day.
“What for?”
“The fight. My absences because of work. I didn’t—”
“The fight was my fault,” he says and comes around the bed to cup my face. “I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I was tense.”
“Why?”
