Page 64 of Puck Me Thrice
For a long moment, I thought my father might actually explode. His face was purple with rage, his hands clenched into fists. Then he turned to me.
"If you continue this relationship," he said, his voice shaking, "you're on your own. No family support. No connections. Nothing."
I looked at him—this man who'd shaped my entire life through expectations and pressure and conditional love—and felt something break free in my chest.
"Mira, Logan, and Blake are my family now," I said clearly. "Any future relationship between us depends on youaccepting all of them. Not just tolerating—accepting. If you can't do that, then I guess I am on my own."
My father stared at me like I was a stranger. Maybe I was. Maybe I'd finally become someone other than the son he'd designed.
"You'll regret this," he said.
"Maybe. But it'll be my choice to make."
He left without another word, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The moment he was gone, I pulled Mira into my arms, holding her tight enough that she made a small sound of protest.
"That was the most incredible thing I've ever witnessed," I said into her hair.
"Your father is an asshole."
"I'm aware."
"I probably made everything worse."
"You made everything better." I pulled back to look at her face. "No one has ever fought for me like that. No one has ever told my father off. No one has ever—" My voice broke slightly. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for seeing your value. That's just basic human decency."
I kissed her then, pouring every ounce of gratitude and love and wonder into it. She kissed me back with equal intensity, her hands fisting in my shirt, her body pressed against mine.
"I love you," I said against her lips. "I love how fierce you are. I love how you don't back down. I love—"
The door banged open. Logan and Blake burst in, looking panicked.
"We saw your dad leaving," Logan said. "He looked murderous. Is everything—"
He stopped when he saw Mira and me locked together.
"We're fine," I said. "Better than fine."
"What happened?" Blake asked.
"Mira verbally destroyed my father and I chose you all over him," I summarized. "It was extremely cathartic."
"I want details," Logan demanded. "All the details. Did she really tell him off?"
"She eviscerated him," I confirmed. "It was beautiful."
Mira's face flushed. "I might have been a bit harsh—"
"You were perfect," I interrupted. "Absolutely perfect."
I'd chosen them over my father, over family expectations, over the safe path I'd been walking my entire life.
Chapter 22: Mira
By the time we entered Nolan’s room, shedding coats and boots in the foyer, the air crackled with it: anticipation, desire and the raw intimacy. We'd talked about this in whispers—expanding beyond mouths and hands, into full, unbridled fucking.
