Page 211 of Well That Happened

“I’m dying,” I murmur into his shoulder.

“You’re glowing,” he counters.

When we’re finally still, I’m a wreck—used and trembling and held together by nothing but their hands and their voices.

Caleb withdraws carefully.

Grayson is the first to pull the blanket over me. Caleb kisses my forehead. Hunter presses a cold water bottle to my palm and mutters something about electrolyte loss.

“Someone get me a priest,” I whisper. “Or a waffle.”

Hunter chuckles dropping beside me. “You okay, baby?”

“You need protein,” Grayson says, already grabbing his phone. “I’ll order breakfast.”

“I need an ice pack for her pussy,” Caleb says, rubbing circles into my thigh. “She’s going to be sore.”

“Iamright here,” I mumble.

“You should’ve heard yourself,” Caleb says, smug. “It was art.”

“She needs arnica,” Grayson says.

“She needsmeto go down on her again,” Hunter counters.

“I need a nap,” I groan.

“You need all of us,” Caleb says, wrapping his arms around me. “And lucky for you…”

“You’ve got us,” Grayson finishes.

Hunter kisses my shoulder, voice low and smug. “Forever.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “All of you. So much it’s terrifying.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Caleb murmurs, curling himself around my back.

“We’ve got you,” Grayson adds.

“Always,” Hunter says, pressing a final kiss to the base of my spine.

And then they wrap around me like armor, warm and safe and irrevocably mine.

Epilogue

Rilee

Some mornings I wake up and forget how full my life is. Not in a bad way. In the kind of way where I open my eyes and there’s a moment of stillness—right before the chaos starts—where I remember.This is mine.

Today, I don’t wake up to the alarms or someone asking where their shin guards are. I wake up to sunlight warming the comforter, the sound of distant giggles, and the faint smell of pancakes.

Caleb promised me a morning off. I wasn’t sure he meant it. But sure enough, my bedroom door is closed. The house is awake, and I’m still here in bed, alone.

I stretch slowly, savoring the quiet when the doorknob rattles.

Little fingers fumble with it. Then a whisper.

“Saylor, no. Mommy’s sleeping. Remember?”

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