Chapter 26
We're In This
Remi
The drive back is quiet, but it’s not the kind of quiet that feels heavy. It’s warm. Full. Like all the words have already been said.
Coleman’s hand reaches across the center console and laces his fingers with mine, bringing our hands to rest between us.
His thumb moves gently across the inside of my wrist—slow, steady, rhythmic strokes that send a warm buzz through my entire body.
He doesn’t even look down. Doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
It’s like he just needs to be touching me. Like not touching me isn’t an option anymore.
And that does something to me I’m not ready to face.
We pull into my parents’ driveway and the porch light flickers on. They’re waiting on the porch with the girls, sleepy-eyed and safe. My dad gives me a nod, and my mom mouths something about calling her tomorrow with a smile that tells me she’ll be waiting for every detail of this night.
Paige runs to me first, throwing her arms around my waist. “You smell like cupcakes,” she mumbles against my stomach, and I laugh.
“Maybe you just smell like trouble,” I whisper back, kissing her head.
Payton doesn’t run—but she steps to me slowly, like this is something she’s figuring out how to do in real time. When I crouch down and open my arms, she doesn’t even hesitate. She walks into them.
And it’s all I can do not to cry.
We say our goodbyes, and I thank my parents again. Mom kisses my cheek and gives Coleman a look—like he’s on her radar now. Like he’s hers to watch over. Dad just tells him, “Drive safe,” but there’s weight behind the words.
Back at the house, the girls go straight upstairs with Coleman to brush their teeth and get into pajamas. I take my time. Changing out of my jeans. Washing my face. Pulling my hair up in a loose bun and slipping into a soft tank and boy shorts.
I’m brushing my teeth when I hear his footsteps.
I don’t turn when he walks in. I just meet his eyes in the mirror.
There’s something dangerous in the way he’s looking at me. Something sharp and dark and laced with heat. I freeze.
He doesn’t say anything. Just stalks forward until my back hits the wall beside the bathroom door.
I exhale hard as he cages me in with his body.
My brain scrambles, trying to catch up.
“Coleman,” I whisper.
His hands land on my waist, fingers pressing into my hips like he needs to make sure I’m real. That I’m his. His nose brushes against mine before his mouth crashes onto mine in a kiss that knocks the breath out of me. It’s deep. Possessive. Starved.
And safe.
God, I feel so safe.
This—this is the part I understand. The part I know how to handle. Touch. Kisses. Moans muffled by lips and hands that know where to go. The part where it doesn’t matter what happens in the morning because at least for now, I know where I stand.
But then—
He stops.
Pulls back just enough to stare into me.
“I want nothing more than to push my cock into your warm, wet heat right now,” he growls, voice low and wrecked. “To fuck you so slow and deep you forget anything that came before me.”
My entire body clenches.
“But I’m not going to. Because I need you to understand something.”
I blink, trying to form a thought.
“We’re in this, Remi,” he says. “This is real. This isn’t just about sex or the girls or because we’re living in the same house. I want all of it—with you.”
He kisses me again, slower this time. Like he’s making sure I feel every ounce of what he’s saying. Then he steps back.
“I’m not asking you to be ready tonight. But get your pretty head wrapped around it—because I’m not going anywhere.”
He turns and walks out of the room like he didn’t just ruin me with words I didn’t know I needed to hear.
And now I’m standing here, alone again, my back still pressed to the wall, every nerve in my body screaming.
But it’s not from need.
It’s from the way he makes me feel like I might be everything he’s ever wanted.
And I don’t know what to do with that.
I lie awake long after he leaves.
My mouth is swollen from his kiss, my skin still humming from where his hands touched me. But the heat that rushes through me isn't the kind that brings comfort.
It's fear. Quiet, creeping, all-consuming fear.
I roll to my side and pull the blanket up over my shoulder, like it’ll somehow protect me from the thoughts clawing their way in.
He wants this.
He said it like a promise. Like he meant it with every part of him.
And God, that’s what scares me most.
Because if he means it, then this is real.
And if this is real… then it could break me.
I close my eyes tight, like maybe I can shut out the doubt, the old scars, the voice in the back of my head whispering that love like this doesn’t last. That it burns bright and beautiful and then leaves you standing in the ashes wondering why you ever believed you were the exception.
I’ve been through loss before. People walking out. People choosing someone else. I’ve built a life out of pretending it doesn’t bother me, out of making jokes and laughing too loud and keeping my distance just enough to stay safe.
But this? This isn’t safe.
Because it’s not just about him.
It's about them.
Paige’s sleepy smile when she calls me to tuck her in. Payton’s quiet nod when she finally lets me braid her hair. The way they’re starting to trust me—to need me—and how I already know I’d rip the world apart to protect them.
If I fall for Coleman and it goes sideways, I won’t just lose him.
I’ll lose them.
And I don’t think I’d come back from that.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and groan into the darkness. My heart is such a damn traitor. It’s already halfway down the road, sprinting after something it’s been quietly craving for years.
And Coleman…
He’s not even trying to hide it anymore.
The way he looks at me like I’m it. The way he speaks—soft, direct, rough—like I’m already his.
It would be so easy to give in.
To stop running and fall into him completely.
But what happens if one day he realizes I’m not what he wants? That I’m too loud or too complicated or just too much?
What happens when it ends?
Would I still get to be there for Payton and Paige? Would he let me?
Or would that door slam shut so fast it’d feel like whiplash?
I bury my face in my pillow and try not to cry.
Because I want it. I want him. I want them. I want the loud, messy, full-of-feelings life that seems to glow around him every time he smiles at me across the kitchen.
But I’ve survived so much heartbreak already.
I don’t know if I could survive this one.
Not if it means walking away from the two little girls who are starting to feel like mine.
Not if it means walking away from the first man who’s ever made me feel like staying might be worth the risk.