Chapter 24
Sloane
Two Weeks Later
The sounds of laughter, the hush of the waves, and the cry of the seagulls fill the air. I stare out at the endless blue ocean where the horizon meets the blue sky, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I breathe without it catching halfway in my chest.
It’s been two weeks since Briggs was arrested. As the reality that we’d done it sank in, the world slowly stopped feeling like it was closing in on us from every direction.
It’s not over, my brain won’t let me believe that, Briggs won’t go down without a fight, but the constant pressure has been eased, replaced by something lighter, more peaceful.
Jessy shrieks with laughter as a wave rushes toward her, the water curling around her ankles before retreating again.
Her small feet dig into the wet sand, leaving imprints that wash away as she runs back toward Boone, who’s crouched near the shoreline, hands shaping what might eventually resemble a sandcastle.
“Boone! It’s attacking me!” she yells, pointing accusingly at the ocean.
He plays along immediately, eyes narrowing at the water like it’s a real threat. “We’ll reinforce the walls,” he says, already scooping wet sand into place. “No wave’s taking this one down.”
Cruz is nearby, ankle-deep in the water, deliberately splashing toward them with a wicked grin. “Oh no,” he says, voice full of mock menace. “Tidal wave!”
Jessy gasps. “Cruz!”
He lunges forward just enough to send a spray of water in her direction, and she dissolves into giggles, darting away before spinning back, fearless, delighted, completely herself again.
That’s the thing I keep watching, the thing that’s lifted the weight from my heart, it’s not just that she’s laughing, but how easily her laughter comes now.
The nightmares have eased. They’re not gone, not completely, but they’re less frequent, less terrifying.
The tight grip she used to keep on me has loosened just enough that she runs freely again, trusting that I’m still here when she looks back.
The therapist said she would get better, thank god she was right. Still, I watch her like I might miss something if I blink too long. I don’t know if I’ll ever shake the fear that she might disappear again.
“She’s okay.” Rook’s voice is low beside me. He knows exactly where my thoughts just went. He places a kiss on the back of my shoulder.
“She is,” I say, not taking my eyes from her, not yet.
“She’s more than okay,” he adds. “She’s thriving.”
That makes me smile. “You’re right.”
“Wow,” he chuckles. “Finally, we agree on something.”
I laugh. He’s right on that front, too. We still verbally spar, disagreeing often, but with less venom than before; it’s more good-natured, the enjoyable bickering couples who have been together a long time have.
With one last glance at Jessy, I shift, turning slightly on the blanket, the fabric warm beneath my skin, grains of sand sticking lightly to my legs.
I glance at Rook. He’s stretched out on the picnic blanket, one arm braced behind his head, the other lazily reaching for the bottle of sunscreen beside him.
He looks like a Greek God, Poseidon maybe, his muscled body on full display, tight trunks giving me a glimpse of the impressive bulge underneath.
“Turn around,” he says, shaking the suncream.
I raise an eyebrow. “That didn’t sound like a suggestion.”
“It wasn’t.”
I huff a quiet laugh but do it anyway, turning so my back faces him, pushing my hair over one shoulder. His hands are warm when they touch my skin. The contrast between the cool breeze and the heat of his palms sends a subtle shiver down my spine.
“You’re going to burn,” he says. He squeezes a line of sunscreen across my shoulders, and spreads it slowly, deliberately, his touch firm but unhurried.
“Maybe I just like living dangerously.”
His hands pause for half a second before resuming, slower. “You’ve got enough danger in your life already.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “That didn’t stop me from becoming your old lady.”
His gaze meets mine, dark and steady, hunger flickering beneath the surface. “No,” he says quietly. “It didn’t.”
His hands slide lower, smoothing the lotion across my back, fingers pressing just enough to make my breath hitch slightly.
“You’re being very thorough,” I murmur.
“I’m doing my job.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
His mouth curves faintly. “You complaining?”
I smile. “Not even a little.”
His thumbs press along the line of my spine, slow, deliberate, and suddenly this feels like less about sunscreen and more about something else entirely. Heat coils low in my stomach. My vagina thrums, responding to his touch. “Rook—” I murmur. I should add, ‘not here’, the words don’t quite come.
“Yeah?” he purrs, knowing full well what he’s doing.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Good. I could distract you some more, if you like, I saw an empty lifeguard hut down the beach…”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Subtle.”
He grins, moving to kiss me. “Never claimed to be.”
A splash of water arcs toward us suddenly, breaking the moment as Cruz’s voice cuts through the air. “Get a room!” There’s no annoyance in his tone.
I turn just in time to see him grinning like an idiot, water dripping from his hair as Jessy clings to his side, equally soaked and equally delighted.
“We’re building a fortress!” she announces.
“It looks amazing, sweetheart,” I say.
Cruz chooses that moment to splash us again, and I let out a high pitched shriek.
Jessy collapses into giggles at my response, burying her face against Boone’s arm as he shakes his head, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth.
There’s something so comfortable about the way we all fit together.
Rook leans in closer behind me, his voice drops lower, breath warm as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “I was just getting started.”
My pulse jumps. “Were you?”
His hand slides to my waist briefly, grounding, possessive in a way that feels less like control and more like certainty. “When we get back,” he murmurs, close enough that I feel the words against my skin, “I’m not stopping.”
Heat flares through me. I turn my head slightly toward him, lowering my voice. “In that case,” I say, “we’ll need to stop by the pharmacy on the way home.”
He pauses, brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I need to fill my prescription. My contraceptives run out tomorrow.”
A mundane, normal statement, but something in his expression shifts. Subtle, but unmistakable. “What if you didn’t?” he says.
I blink. “What?”
His gaze holds mine, steady, searching, but not uncertain. “What if you didn’t take it?” he repeats.
I wait for the punchline, for him to laugh, but his expression remains the same, open and serious. “You’re serious,” I say.
“Yes.” There’s no uncertainty or joking edge, he’s telling the truth.
My heart stutters. “That’s… a big step.”
“It is.”
“And you’re just casually suggesting it now? When Briggs could still walk.”
His mouth curves down slightly. “My timing could be better. But then there’s never a perfect time. Plus, Briggs isn’t getting out, I know it.”
He says it with such conviction that I almost believe him. I want to believe him. I don’t respond for a moment, I’m still processing. I feel the need to clarify that I haven’t misunderstood him. “You’re talking about… another baby.”
“We are.” He gestures between us and over at the others.
We. He’s right, it’s something we have to consider, all of us.
I’m about to ask if the guys have discussed it, but I know the answer is yes.
The idea isn’t overwhelming or impossible, just unexpected, something to consider.
After Jessy, I didn’t think I’d have another, not once Connor left, anyway.
My hopes for a big family, for Jessy to have siblings, died with my marriage. Now, Rook is offering that future.
I glance out toward the water, where Jessy is now trying to boss Boone into building a bigger tower, and Cruz deliberately sabotaging it just to hear her protest. I imagine what it would be like if there were another little girl, or a little boy, for Jessy to play with, for the guys to be dads to.
I think of what the future might look like with more of this.
The idea doesn’t scare me the way it should. That’s what surprises me most.
“I didn’t think you wanted kids,” I admit.
Rook’s hand rests lightly at my side. “I didn’t think I would either.”
“And now?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Now I know what our family would look like. I know the kind of life our kids could have.”
My chest tightens. Am I really considering this? Could we even raise a baby with three dads? Would they want to know who the biological dad is? Would they want one each? Would I? I try to calm my racing mind.
Perhaps sensing my turmoil, he quickly adds, “I’m not saying we decide right now,” Rook assures me. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
I swallow. Part of me, a bigger part than I expected, agrees. Should I throw caution to the wind? I open my mouth to respond.
My phone rings. The sharp, abrupt sound cuts clean through the moment. Reality snaps back into place. I tear my gaze from Rook’s, toward the sound. With a sigh, I pull my cell from the blanket beside me, glancing at the screen. My stomach tightens. “It’s Alvarez,” I say.
Rook’s expression shifts immediately, the softness fading into focus. “Take it.” Anyone else I could have ignored, but not this.
I nod, pushing myself up, brushing sand from my hands as I step away from the blanket, away from the warmth of the moment, toward something colder. The future can wait.
I answer the call. “Alvarez?”