Page 81 of Pastel Kisses

We round the corner to the bedroom, voices dropping naturally as we near the door. The light inside glows soft and golden through the crack, like a beacon calling us home.

It hits me again—she’s here. In there. Safe. Ours.

And I’ve never been so ready to crawl into bed, wrap around my girl, and fall asleep knowing she’s exactly where she belongs.

She’s curled on her side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting protectively over the swell of her belly. That body pillow she clings to is tucked tight between her legs, cushioning our baby—our future. Her soft snores fill the room like a lullaby, gentle and steady. The blankets are kicked halfway down her body, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal the beautiful roundness of her stomach, and a peek of side-boob spilling out the oversized armhole of Kam’s shirt.

She’s perfect. They both are.

Once we’ve stripped down to boxers and quiet footsteps, we climb into bed like we’re approaching a shrine. Itfeelssacred. My brothers settle in, each finding their place, instinctively forming a barrier around her. A fortress she doesn’t even realize she sleeps within. I slide in behind her, tucking my nose into her hair. She smells like safety and everything I didn’t know I was missing.

My arm wraps around her waist, and I palm her belly gently, letting the quiet kick of our baby flutter against my hand. My throat tightens. Love slams into me like a freight train. It’s so much, too much, but I welcome the weight of it.

The room is silent. The kind of silence where no one has to speak—because we’re all thinking the same thing. We almost lost this. Losther. Lostthem.

A lump forms in my throat as a tear slides across my cheek and disappears into her hair. I don’t fight it. I can’t. She’s here. She’s safe. She’s carrying a piece of each of us. There’s no greater miracle than that.

She shifts in her sleep, a soft whimper escaping her lips, and I instinctively pull her closer, calming her with a hand over her heart. She relaxes instantly, even lets out a tiny growl—like she’s dreaming of protecting us. It makes me smile, because of course she would. Even in sleep, she’s fierce.

I kiss her temple. “Night, Kitten,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion.

And just like that, the world stills. My heart slows. My muscles relax. Her warmth melts every crack inside me until I’m just a man in love, clinging to the girl who makes everything make sense.

Sleep finds me fast.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Avery

“Y

eah, Dad, we’re about to have breakfast. Are you coming over?” I ask, shifting the phone against my ear as I try to tame my bedhead in the hallway mirror. He’s a notorious night owl, and the groggy edge in his voice tells me I’ve once again called too early.

“Darling,” he rasps, a deep chuckle rumbling through the line, “you do realize it’s the butt-crack of dawn, right? You and my grandbaby are supposed to be resting, not making morning calls atnine a.m.What the hell are those boys letting you get away with?”

I laugh, warm and easy. “First of all, nine isnotthe butt-crack of dawn, you drama queen. Second, they’re making the baby and me breakfast like the spoiled royals we are.” Right on cue, the little bean in my belly kicks hard enough to make me wince and smile at the same time. “See? Baby agrees.”

I lower my voice in mock seriousness. “Kamden declared a ‘morning feast’ was required and insisted I remain in bed until they could properlysummonme. So, I’ve been lying there like a queen in exile while the smell of pancakes and bacon tortures me.”

Dad laughs again, and it makes something warm stretch deep in my chest. “Sounds like they’re doing right by you.” There’s a beat. “What’s really going on, though?”

I take a breath and glance toward the kitchen, where the clatter of pans and masculine voices makes my heart squeeze. “I just wanted to tell you... I agreed to something last night. We’re getting married.”

Silence stretches for a beat too long.

Then, “Didn’t take them long,” he says, amused but not shocked. “They’ve been dancing around it for months. Should’ve asked my permission first, though. Old-fashioned courtesy and all that.” His voice softens with fondness. “Put one of those fools on the phone, will you? I’ve got a few words.”

A huge grin splits across my face as I imagine whatfew wordsmeans in Dad-speak. Likely a mild grilling, maybe a subtle threat or two wrapped in dad-jokes and layered affection. They love him. And after everything they’ve all been through—shouldering my disappearance, holding each other up—I know that love runs deep.

I follow the scent of heaven toward the kitchen, where the guys are buzzing around like some hot, shirtless breakfast brigade.

“Good morning, Kitten.” Jaxton spots me first and pulls me into a sleepy, syrup-scented hug, kissing the side of my head like it’s his favorite ritual.

I hold out the phone. “Dad wants to talk to you.”

The color drains from his face. “Youtoldhim?”

I nod with a smirk, and his expression shifts from panic to resigned acceptance as he hands me off to Liam. “Feed her,” he mutters under his breath. “So she doesn’t rat us out next time.”

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