Chapter Thirty-Five
Frankie
I t starts with the door slamming open, followed by the unmistakable thump of someone hitting the wall and a triumphant shout of “I told you that bollard wasn’t real!”
Finn. Definitely Finn.
Then comes Theo’s voice, lower and less coherent.
“I’m sorry, was that a bollard? I thought it was a manifestation of my need for therapy.”
Boots scatter. Jackets hit the floor. Someone is laughing.
I think it might be me.
By the time I finally make it to the stairs, Rory’s muttering something about property damage and “ why do I always have to be the responsible one? ” while Jax silently flicks the light switch off behind us.
We’re all half-tipsy; full of Ollie’s mother’s homemade lasagna and victory and champagne and pure adrenaline.
I reach my bedroom first, flick the light on, step inside—
And pause.Because Theo walks straight past me and faceplants onto my bed in nothing but boxer briefs and a sheepish grin.
“Absolutely not,” I say automatically. “Go to your room.”
Theo lifts his head just slightly. “Frankie. My room is haunted.”
“By what?”
“My consequences.”
Finn appears next, dragging his hoodie over his head and flinging it somewhere in the vague direction of a chair.
“There’s glitter in my bedsheets,” he announces.
“ You did that!”
He shrugs. “Still valid.”
I watch with wide eyes as he drops his socks and kicks off his joggers. He’s got nothing on now but dark gray briefs and thigh muscles that are frankly rude as he climbs onto the mattress like it’s calling to him personally.
Well.
At least I know they all showered after the match.
At least they’re clean.
Rory leans on the doorframe, arms crossed, biceps looking like a threat. He’s still in his joggers and compression shirt, but his expression says he’s one dramatic sigh away from tossing them in the laundry basket and giving in.
“You’re not seriously doing this.”
“I live here now,” Theo mutters from the pillow, already burrowed halfway under the duvet.
Finn throws an arm over him. “We’re in love. You can’t make us leave.”
I blink. “You all have rooms. With beds. And doors.”
“Your bed smells better,” Theo mumbles, face smooshed into my pillow. “It smells like you. And cookies. And safety.”
“I will literally Lysol you.”
That’s when Jax wanders in.
He’s bare-chested, with a pair of sleep shorts low on his hips. He’s silent and steady as always, and apparently done pretending he isn’t part of this.
He sets a bottle of water and a protein bar down on my nightstand. “You didn’t eat much,” he says simply, like that’s the only justification needed.
My heart does a stupid little flip. “...Thanks.”
He holds my gaze for a beat too long, then slowly sits on the edge of the bed and starts pulling off his socks.
Rory groans. “You too?!”
Jax shrugs one shoulder, already pulling down his shorts, leaving only his underwear. “Better for proximity.”
“To what ?” Rory mutters.
Jax doesn’t answer; because it’s obvious, isn’t it?
Me.
And now I’m standing in my doorway while three extremely hot, extremely smug, extremely half-naked alphas get comfortable in my bed like it’s part of the post-match routine.
Theo’s still curled on the pillow; Finn is all stretched out with his abs on full display; and Jax is already lying back, arms behind his head, eyes half-closed.
And Rory?
Rory just sighs. Hard .
“Any last protests?” I ask, slipping under the covers, squeezing myself somewhere between warm bodies and complete moral defeat.
Finn pulls me down first—one arm under my back, one leg tossed lazily over mine. Theo slides in behind me, tucking his face against my neck.
“If I fall asleep here, I want to be woken with toast and kisses.”
“Do you want tea with that delusion?” I murmur.
“I want snuggles and compliments. Rory?”
“ No .”
“I think Jax’s knife collection is softer than you.”
Rory stands there for a second longer, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether to parent us or join us; then he sighs.
“You’re all insufferable.”
Finn grins. “Get in, Captain.”
Rory groans again, but he climbs in anyway. There’s no grace to it—just limbs and warmth and soft sounds of exhaustion.
My bed is not technically designed for this many rugby players, and yet somehow , it fits.
They make space for me, and around me; tucked close and careful, like I’m something sacred.
“Do you think the OSC is still watching us?” Theo asks quietly, voice muffled against my shoulder.
Finn snorts. “They’d have to pay for this kind of content.”
Jax’s hand slides up my spine and rests there. “They can’t see what matters.”
“They saw it today,” I whisper.
Because it’s true: they did. We held it together, we played, and we won.
And this ? This right here?
This is the reason why.
No one says anything after that. Theo breathes against my skin as Jax’s fingers twitch at my waist. Finn shifts slightly to press his lips to my temple, and Rory tucks his chin over the top of my head like it’s instinct.
I don’t know who falls asleep first, but I know that when I do, I’m smiling.
Because this bed smells like victory, and love, and pack; and for the first time in my life, I’m not just safe—
I’m home.