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“What is this?” Victor asks.
“I want you to have a space to rebuild what you lost,” I say quietly. “A place that can be a home for all of us. Where Ransom can work on his bikes, you can have an office for your computers, and Malice can have a room just for all of his tattoo stuff. We’ll all live together, the way you guys used to live above your shop. You guys might not need to run a chop shop anymore, but I know you miss some parts of the old setup you used to have.”
I can feel something building in all three of the men as I speak, and there’s silence for a long moment after I stop.
Then Vic takes a step closer to me. “You want to buy this place,” he confirms quietly. “And live here with us. Forever.”
“Yes.” I bite my lower lip, waiting to hear whether they like that idea or not.
I get my answer a moment later when all three of them scoop me up. I’m not sure how they manage it, but my feet literally don’t even touch the ground as I’m encased between them.
“I hope you know what you’re getting into, pretty girl,” Ransom teases, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Yeah,” Malice growls. “Because we’re never letting you go.”
“Good.” I grin, squirming as Vic nuzzles his face against my neck. “Because there’s nowhere else I want to be.”
41
VICTOR
Several weeksafter Olivia’s mysterious disappearance, things have settled as much as they can.
Willow and I are out shopping for things we need for the new place. It’s become our thing, a task we always do together. Malice and Ransom don’t really care about organization or decoration at all, but Willow and I do.
She’s incredibly knowledgeable about home improvement stuff from the years she spent watching those shows, and we discuss the things we’ve learned and the things we want to change. It’s funny to me that I didn’t understand the shows at first, but now I feel as if I really do.
It’s about building something from nothing.
Not just physically, but in a deeper sense as well.
This thing we’re doing? It’s not just building a house with Willow and my brothers. We’re building ahome. A future together. The choices we make aren’t just about this paint color or that material for the furniture. It’s about the fact that we’re building the foundation of our life.
It’s about thinking ahead to the future and imagining Willow lounging in the living room, or a baby in a crib in the corner.
“What do you think about this?” Willow asks, holding up a paint sample as we make our way through the massive home goods store. “For the kitchen area.”
“With the backsplash we’ve already picked out?” I purse my lips, cocking my head as I consider it. “Don’t you think that will clash?”
“It shouldn’t, because they’re both cool tones. But we should get a few alternates just in case.”
She scrunches up her nose as she considers her options, and I let her take her time, nodding whenever she picks up something I particularly like. The truth is, if Willow decided she wanted to paint our entire kitchen neon pink, I’d let her. So would my brothers, in a heartbeat. There’s nothing she could choose that I wouldn’t love, just for the simple fact thatshechose it, but it’s fun to do this with her, debating the merits of different colors and aesthetics.
It’s time we get to spend together, and that’s always my favorite thing.
The warehouse is a work in progress, still being turned into the living space for all of us, but it’s coming along really well. Malice and Ransom have taken on more of the construction that needs to happen, doing their part while we do ours.
In the end, we leave with several cans of paint and place orders to have more things delivered soon. With that done, we head back to the car.
Willow insists on carrying some of the lighter purchases, even though she’s visibly pregnant now.
She has a small baby bump, and every time I look at it, it does something to me. I didn’t think I could feel anything stronger than what I feel for Willow, but there’s a protectiveness that surges through my chest when I think of the little life growing inside her.
My brothers and I have essentially adopted this baby already. In our minds, it’s all of ours. Troy’s name is never even mentioned anymore, and our child will never hear it spoken.
As I load the stuff into the car, Willow leans over to help me. Her arm brushes against mine, and that little spark of contact is all it takes to make me reach for her. I pull her into my arms, pressing her against the car gently as I kiss her.
Just because I can.
