Page 145 of Triple Play

---

I take it with shaking hands. Inside is—

A key.

A house key.

With a tag that says: Home

And underneath, in three different handwritings:

Grant: For when you need someone to overthink with

Jordie: For when you need someone to make you laugh

Wyatt: For when you need someone to just be

I’m crying again. Full-on ugly crying this time.

“You guys are—you’re—”

“Say yes,” Grant says. His voice is rough. Desperate. “Please. Just say yes.”

I look at all three of them. At Grant with his ice-blue eyes that aren’t cold anymore. At Jordie with his dimples and terrible jokes that make everything lighter. At Wyatt with his quiet strength and careful hands.

They rearranged their lives for me.

For us.

How do you say no to that?

“Yes.”

The word comes out choked. Barely audible.

But they hear it.

Jordie lets out a whoop that echoes through the empty house. Wyatt’s grinning—actually grinning, teeth and everything. And Grant—

Grant crosses the space between us in two strides. Picks me up. Spins me.

“Say it again.”

“Yes. Yes to all of it. The house, the commute, the insanity—”

He kisses me before I can finish. Deep and thorough and full of two years of wanting and choosing and fighting for this.

“Okay, okay,” Jordie says. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Grant pulls back but doesn’t let go. “She said yes.”

“We heard.”

Wyatt’s next. He hugs me carefully and tight, like he’s still not quite sure this is real. “You’re sure? Because once you move in, you’re stuck with us.”

“I’m sure. I’m—” I pull back to look at him. “I’m so sure.”

Jordie’s practically vibrating. “Group hug. We’re doing a group hug.”

“We are not—”

---