26. Chapter 26
Wren
I slip into my oversized sleep shirt as I listen to Jace shower, my fingers still trembling slightly as I pull it over my head. The word keeps echoing in my mind, as startling to me as it was to them.
Love.
Did I really say that out loud? Was that really the word that found its way past my lips?
I catch my reflection in the mirror, pink hair still damp from the shower, cheeks flushed. My throat doesn't hurt and there’s no phantom pressure of hands, no panic closing in.
But the implications of what I said... that's what makes my heart race now.
Love.
Not "hello" or "thanks" or even "home" like I practiced with Dr. Levine. Love. As if my subconscious decided to broadcast the one thing I've been too afraid to acknowledge, even to myself.
Do they think I meant it romantically? That I was declaring something? Or did they just see it as a random word, the first that happened to break through?
I press my hands to my cheeks, trying to cool the heat there. Six weeks of them in my life, in my bed, in my heart—is it too soon to call it love? Too presumptuous to think they might feel the same?
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. The important thing is that I spoke. After everything, after all this time, I’m starting to find my voice again. To reclaim something that had been taken from me. That's what matters—not what word came out, but that any word did at all.
Still, as I pull on a pair of sleep shorts, I can't help but wonder if they understood what the word means to me. How completely they've changed my life. How safe I feel with them, despite the lingering fear that it could all disappear in an instant.
Theo comes in to start setting up the bedroom for the night—pulling back covers, adjusting pillows, plugging in phones. Such simple, domestic tasks, but they make my chest ache with unexpected tenderness.
"Hey, you," he says when he notices me watching him. His smile is warm, unguarded. "Feel better after your shower?"
I nod, moving to help him with the bedding. We work in comfortable silence for a moment, and I'm grateful he doesn't push me to speak again. That's been their approach from the beginning—never demanding, always accepting whatever form of communication I can offer.
"You know," Theo says casually as he fluffs a pillow, "I think that's the first time anyone's ever rendered Jace completely speechless. You should be proud."
I laugh softly, my shoulders shaking. It's such a Theo comment—lightening the moment with humor while still acknowledging its significance.
"Seriously, though," he continues, his voice softening. "What you did today? That was incredible, Wren. Beyond incredible."
I look up to find his eyes on me, filled with such genuine admiration that it makes my breath catch. I sign "thank you," suddenly too overwhelmed for more complex communication.
He crosses to me, taking my hands in his. "Don’t, don’t thank us," he says. "We're the lucky ones, getting to be part of this journey with you. We are so proud of you."
I swallow hard, wishing I could find the words—spoken or signed—to express how much that means to me. Instead, I rise on tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek, hoping he understands.
The shower shuts off, and a few minutes later Jace emerges in a cloud of steam, wearing only a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water cling to his shoulders, and his hair is slicked back from his face, making his features appear even sharper than usual.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Six weeks, and I still feel this flutter in my stomach when I see either of them—like the first time, every time.
"Bed?" Jace suggests, grabbing sweatpants from the dresser that's now half-filled with their clothes.
I nod, suddenly exhausted. The emotional weight of the day—the therapy breakthrough, the unexpected spoken word, the intensity of their reactions—has drained me completely.
Jace flips off the overhead light, plunging the room into gentle shadow. Then Theo clicks on the small bedside lamp, its soft glow casting a warm pool of light across the bed. It’s bright enough for us to see each other but muted enough to keep the room hushed and private.
We settle into our usual positions—me in the middle, Jace on my left, Theo on my right.
It's become so familiar, this arrangement of bodies, this sharing of space and warmth.
Jace props himself against the headboard with his laptop, already diving back into whatever project has been consuming him lately.
Theo scrolls through his phone, occasionally showing me something that makes him laugh.
I lie between them, content to simply exist in this moment of perfect quiet domesticity. My hand rests on Jace's thigh, feeling the subtle tap-tap-tap of his fingers against the keyboard. My other hand is loosely entwined with Theo's, his thumb absently stroking my palm.
Safe. I feel so incredibly safe.
But there's a fragility to this safety that I can't ignore—a gossamer-thin quality that makes me afraid to breathe too deeply, to want too much. As if acknowledging how perfect this feels might somehow jinx it.
I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my body's exhaustion. The word I spoke keeps circling back, demanding attention.
Love.
Do I love them? Yes. Both of them, in different ways that somehow form a perfect whole. Jace with his quiet intensity, his careful protection, his brilliant mind. Theo with his irreverent humor, his unexpected depth, his unwavering belief in me.
But do they love me? They've never said it. Never pushed for definitions or labels or promises. Maybe that's for the best—keeping things fluid, undefined, allowing me the space to heal without expectations.
Still, I can't help but wonder what they're thinking. If they understood what that word meant coming from me. If they feel the same overwhelming connection that I do.
"You're thinking so loudly I can practically hear it," Theo murmurs, setting his phone aside to look at me properly. "Want to share with the class?"
I shake my head, not ready to articulate the swirl of emotions inside me.
"Come on," he coaxes gently. "Those gears are turning so hard I'm surprised smoke isn't coming out of your ears."
I start to sign something dismissive, but he catches my hands, stilling them.
"It's about what you said earlier, isn't it?" he asks, his voice soft but knowing. "That word."
Heat floods my cheeks. Am I that transparent?
"It's okay," he continues, misreading my embarrassment as discomfort. "You don't have to explain. We're just proud of you for the breakthrough."
He starts to say something else, but I place my fingers against his lips, stopping him. His eyebrows lift in surprise as I shift, moving to straddle his lap in one fluid motion.
I need him to understand what I can't say—what I can't sign or speak. Need him to feel what that word meant to me.
His hands settle automatically on my hips as I lean down to kiss him, slow and deliberate. I pour everything into the contact—all the gratitude, all the wonder, all the fragile, trembling hope I've been harboring.
I'm vaguely aware of Jace beside us, his fingers hovering over his keyboard, his attention completely diverted from the screen. I can feel his gaze on us, burning with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
Theo responds to my kiss with surprising gentleness, his usual playfulness tempered by something deeper. His hands slide up from my hips to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with such tenderness it makes my chest ache.
When we break apart, his eyes are dark, searching mine for answers to questions he hasn't asked.
"Wren," he breathes, and just my name on his lips feels like a benediction.
I turn, still straddling Theo's lap, to find Jace watching us with that focused intensity that makes my breath catch. His laptop is already set aside, forgotten in favor of what's happening in front of him.
I reach for him, an invitation he doesn't hesitate to accept. He moves closer, his hand sliding into my damp hair as he pulls my mouth to his.
Where Theo's kiss was gentle, Jace's is consuming—a slow devouring that makes heat pool low in my belly. His other hand finds my waist, fingers splaying possessively across my ribs.
Theo's hands haven't left me either. They slide beneath my sleep shirt, tracing patterns on my lower back that make me shiver. I'm surrounded, enveloped in their touch, their scent, their warmth.
"Beautiful," Jace murmurs against my lips. "So beautiful."
The word makes me think of my voice—how raspy and uncertain it sounded, how far from beautiful.
As if reading my thoughts, Theo presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. "Your voice is perfect," he says softly. "Just like the rest of you."
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of their touches, their words. Jace's thumb traces my bottom lip, his gaze intense.
"Can you say something else?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "For us?"
The request sends a flutter of nervousness through me.
But the way they're looking at me—with such open admiration, such patient anticipation—makes me want to try. For them. For myself.
I swallow, gathering my courage. My hand rises to my throat, feeling the slight vibration as I form the sound.
"Jace," I whisper, the name emerging as a soft, raspy sound.
His eyes widen, pupils dilating instantly. His fingers tighten in my hair, and I feel his body go completely still.
Emboldened by his reaction, I turn slightly toward Theo. "Theo," I manage, my voice barely audible but unmistakably there.
"Fuck," Theo breathes, his hands suddenly gripping my hips with bruising intensity. "Say it again."
I swallow, feeling a strange power in this small act that once seemed impossible. "Theo," I repeat, then turn back to Jace. "Jace."
Something wild flashes in Jace's eyes—a primal response I've never seen from him before. His controlled demeanor slips, revealing something raw and hungry beneath. In one fluid motion, he pulls me from Theo's lap into his arms, his mouth claiming mine with desperate intensity.
I gasp against his lips, startled by the ferocity of his response. His hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, sliding beneath my shirt, gripping my thighs—as if he needs to touch every part of me at once.
"Your voice," he murmurs between kisses, "saying my name. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"
Before I can respond, Theo is behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his lips trailing fire down my neck. "To both of us," he adds, his voice rough with desire. "You're incredible, Wren. Absolutely fucking incredible."