Page 47 of Breakaway Daddies

He doesn’t laugh. His gaze remains steady, expectant.

And for the first time, I find myself without a witty comeback, words escaping me entirely.

I sigh, shifting slightly beneath the wrinkled, rumpled sheets, feeling the cool fabric against my skin. “I don’t really know,” I admit, my voice coming out quieter than I intend.

Thomas doesn’t react immediately. Instead, he tilts his head, studying me with those deep, thoughtful eyes as if trying to read the unspoken words on my face.

“I’ve never had a serious relationship,” he confesses, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

His admission catches me off guard, and I blink up at him, surprised. “You? Mr. ‘I’m friends with all my exes’ Thomas Boyd?”

He chuckles, a warm, low sound that fills the room. “That’s different. That was never serious.” He runs a hand through his tousled blond hair, the strands catching the bright glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. “You might be the only serious relationship I’ve ever had.”

I feel my heart skip a beat, doing something strange in my chest—something I don’t have time to analyze or understand.

I force out a laugh, playfully shoving his shoulder. “Well, you’re doing just fine, Boyd. Ten out of ten. Five stars. Would recommend,” I say with a grin.

He grins back, his smile genuine, but he doesn’t let the conversation slip away. His eyes are still holding that serious, searching look.

“You know, I’m always on good terms with my exes. But I don’t feel like that about you.”

My body tenses, and my mind races. At first, a sharp pang of fear grips me, thinking he’s implying I won’t even make it into the category of his exes, not even a lingering memory when this whole arrangement is over.

But then he shakes his head and exhales slowly, as if trying to release the weight of his own thoughts. “I mean… you’re different. You mean more to me.”

His confession settles like a heavy stone in my chest, leaving me breathless. I open my mouth, wanting to respond, but the sentiment clogs my throat, refusing to form into coherent words.

I stepped into this with the belief that it was just for enjoyment, a lighthearted adventure to break the monotony. An experience to chalk up to life’s unpredictability.

But now, under the warmth of his gaze and the sincerity of his words, I come to a startling revelation.

I care.

Deeply.

About all of these moments, all of these feelings.

About all of them.

I don’t say anything back. Words feel heavy, lodged in my throat.

Not yet.

I reach for his face, my thumb tracing slow circles over his cheek, a silent promise, the only reassurance I can offer right now. He seems to understand.

His eyes drink me in, and he nods with a lopsided smile that hints at understanding and acceptance before he settles onto his back. Rowan shifts beside me, his body rustling the sheets, and his heavy palm finds its place against my stomach. I flinch involuntarily, my breath catching in my throat, as my mind flashes to the secret nestled deep within me, a truth I’m not ready to unveil.

Bruno stirs slightly on my other side, his arm brushing lightly against Thomas’s chest, his solid presence a comforting warmth nestled between us.

This should be chaos: a tangled mess of emotions and unspoken truths I should be fleeing from. But strangely, it doesn’t feel chaotic at all.

Instead, it feels like home—a sanctuary of shared breaths and silent understanding.

I close my eyes, surrendering to the tangle of limbs and the sensation of belonging that envelops me.

I drift into a restless sleep, their breathing a gentle lullaby coaxing me into dreams I’m not yet ready to confront.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

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