24. Chapter 24 #2
Dr. Levine nods, making another note. "Keep sitting with that feeling of familiarity about the hair, the gestures. Sometimes our bodies remember what our minds try to protect us from."
Our session ends soon after, with Dr. Levine scheduling our next appointment. As I gather my things, she touches my arm lightly.
"You're making remarkable progress, Wren," she says. "Not just with your memories, but with reclaiming your life. That takes extraordinary courage."
I smile, genuinely touched by her words. Before I started this journey, I would have dismissed such praise. Now, I'm starting to believe it might be true.
When I exit the office, Theo is waiting in the reception area, scrolling through his phone. He looks up immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of me. The warmth in his expression makes my heart skip.
"Hey, you," Theo says, pocketing his phone and standing to embrace me. His arms wrap around me securely, and I lean into his warmth, allowing myself a moment of pure comfort. "How'd it go today?"
I pull back just enough to sign, "Good. Really good."
His eyebrows lift in interest. "Yeah? Want to tell me about it, or wait until we're home with Jace?"
Home. The word echoes in my mind, reminding me of what I just accomplished in Dr. Levine's office.
I hesitate, wondering if I should try again, if I should let Theo be the first to hear my voice after all these months.
But the busy waiting room suddenly feels too exposed, too public for something so intimate.
"Home," I sign instead. "I want to tell you both together."
He nods, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever you want, sweetheart." The nickname still makes me smile. "Jace texted. He's making dinner, which means we should probably pick up backup takeout on the way."
I laugh silently, my shoulders shaking. Jace tries so hard in the kitchen, but his culinary skills are... limited at best. It's become a running joke between the three of us.
The ride back to the apartment is comfortable, Theo filling the silence with updates about his day at work, his hand occasionally finding mine across the center console. His thumb traces absent patterns on my skin, the casual intimacy making my heart swell.
Six weeks. That's how long has passed since everything changed, since Jace and Theo crashed into my carefully compartmentalized life and refused to leave. Sometimes it feels like they've always been there; other times, I wake up startled to find two warm bodies in my bed instead of just my own.
When we arrive home, the smell of something burning greets us at the door.
"Shit!" Jace's voice carries from the kitchen, followed by the clatter of a pan being dropped in the sink.
Theo and I exchange amused glances as we enter. Jace stands at the sink, running water over what appears to be the charred remains of... something. Smoke rises in wisps around him, and the windows are already open despite the autumn chill.
"Let me guess," Theo says, setting down the bag of Thai food we picked up on the way. "Another successful culinary experiment?"
Jace shoots him a glare, but there's no real heat behind it. "I was trying to make that chicken dish Wren likes." He turns to me, his expression softening. "The one with the lemon and herbs. ."
My heart melts a little at the gesture. I cross to him and press a kiss to his cheek, then sign, "Thank you for trying."
"Emphasis on 'trying,'" Theo adds, already unpacking the takeout containers. "Good thing we came prepared."
"I love that you tried." I sign, before smoothing Jace's furrowed brow with my fingertips.
Jace captures my hand and presses a kiss to my palm, the gesture so tender it makes my chest ache. "Next time I'll just stick to pasta."
"Or cereal," Theo suggests, arranging plates on the counter. "You're surprisingly competent with cereal."
I laugh softly as Jace flips Theo off, the easy banter between them still making me marvel. They shouldn't work—the analytical programmer and the charismatic marketing executive—but somehow they've found balance. For me. With me.
As Theo sets the table and Jace rinses the charred remains of his cooking attempt, I feel a strange lightness in my chest. It's been six weeks of them protecting me, caring for me, loving me in their different ways. Of feeling safe for the first time in over a year.
I watch them move around each other in the kitchen—Theo grabbing utensils while deliberately bumping Jace's shoulder, Jace retaliating by flicking water at him. Their playful antagonism has become something else now, something warmer.
"All I'm saying," Theo continues, dodging another water flick, "is that there are these amazing inventions called cooking classes. You might have heard of them?"
"And all I'm saying," Jace counters, drying his hands on a towel, "is that you're a smug asshole who couldn't make toast without burning it."
"I'll have you know I make excellent toast. It's one of my many talents."
"Name another talent. Just one."
Their bickering washes over me like a comfortable blanket. I lean against the counter, content to simply observe them, these two men who've rearranged their lives to keep me safe.
The word rises in my throat without conscious thought, bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me where Dr. Levine's exercises have been working their magic.
"Love."
It emerges as barely more than a whisper, raspy and uncertain, but unmistakably there.
The plate Theo is holding crashes to the floor, shattering into pieces. He stands frozen, staring at me with wide eyes. Jace has gone completely still, the dish towel hanging limply from his hand.
"Did you just—" Theo begins, his voice choked.
I touch my throat, as surprised as they are by the word that escaped me. Not "home" like I practiced, but something much more vulnerable. Much more true.