30. Rhett
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rhett
The sound of gunfire rattles faintly through the quiet house. Muffled, but unmistakable. I pause halfway to the kitchen, rubbing the back of my neck.
It’s past three in the morning, the hour when everything feels suspended, caught between night and dawn.
When I push the door open, the glow of the big screen hits me. Hunter’s sprawled on the couch, controller clutched tight, eyes locked on the TV. His character moves with sharp precision, mowing down enemies in Call of Duty.
“Seriously?” I mutter, stepping into the room.
Hunter doesn’t look away. He just huffs, jaw tight, eyes bloodshot.
I head for the kitchen, grab a glass, fill it with cold water. The faucet hisses, the only other sound besides the staccato gunfire from the game. I tilt my head back, drinking slow.
The floor creaks behind me. When I glance over, Hunter’s standing there now, sweating, jittery, like the game wasn’t cutting it anymore.
“Why the hell are you up?” I ask.
“Checking on Chloe. But I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I thought I’d run a couple of rounds.”
Hunter’s gaze flicks down, embarrassed. He scratches the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep either.”
Up close, I can see it—his shirt clinging damp to his skin, his restless shifting. His whole body screams unsettled.
Another dream.
I set the glass down. “It’s back, isn’t it?”
His shoulders stiffen. He nods, jaw tightening like he’s ashamed of the admission.
“I thought…” I trail off, studying him. “It’d been months. I thought it was over.”
“So did I.” His voice is flat, sharp with self-loathing. “This is the first time since then.”
I pour him another glass, push it into his hands. He drinks deep, throat working, but his eyes are far away.
“You’ll get through it,” I tell him. “You always do.”
But he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowers the glass, his hand trembling slightly.
“You unhappy about the babies?” he blurts suddenly.
That stuns me. My head jerks up. “What?”
He avoids my eyes, staring at the floor. “You seem… I don’t know. Off. Distressed. Like you can’t stand it.”
I blink, floored by the question. “Hunter, no. God, no. I’m so happy.” I step closer, force him to look at me. “Why would you even ask that?”
His expression is tight, wounded, but he doesn’t push it. He just shrugs like he’d rather sink through the floor than have this conversation.
I rub my jaw, exhaling. “I’m a little distressed, yeah. But not for the reason you think.”
That makes him glance up finally, brows furrowed. “Then why?”
I lean against the counter, folding my arms. The truth tastes heavy but I let it out anyway.
“Three babies, Hunt. Newborns. That’s not just life changing—it’s sleep-shattering.
And you”—I point at him—“already fight enough with your head when you’re rested.
Add months of no sleep? I don’t want to picture what that does to you. ”
It hits him like a slap. I can see it in the way his face freezes, his hand still holding the glass mid-air. He hadn’t even considered it.
His voice comes out low. “I’ll be okay.”
I arch a brow. “Will you?”
“If I need to check into a sleep clinic again, I’ll do it.” He sets the glass down firmly, as if that makes it true. Then he swallows, staring at the floor. “But I also want to be here. Present. For her.”
The way he says it—raw, stripped down—makes my chest tighten. But it’s what comes next that shatters the quiet.
“For the woman I love.”
The words hang there, electric. His head jerks like he realizes what he just admitted.
I don’t move. Just watch him. “That’s how you feel?”
He looks at me, eyes wide, guilty, but he nods once.
A laugh bursts out of me, rough but genuine. Relief slams into me so hard I almost stumble. “Thank God. I was starting to think I was crazy.”
Hunter blinks. “What?”
“Because I love her too.”
The air shifts, taut, the kind of silence that can break open into something irreversible.
“You love me?”
Both our heads whip toward the doorway. Ivy stands there, her hand on the frame, eyes shining with unshed tears. Her voice cracks on the question.
Hunter and I both straighten, like kids caught red-handed.
Her lip trembles. “You love me?”
“Of course we love you,” I say, stepping toward her. “How could we not?”
Hunter’s voice threads through mine, low and certain. “We do. Both of us.”
She shakes her head, a wet laugh bubbling through her tears. “I love you too.” Then she presses a hand to her belly and groans softly. “God, this is hormones. Ignore me.”
“Not hormones,” I say firmly. “Truth.”
Her tears spill over then, but her smile blooms anyway.
“Why are you up, sweetheart?” I ask gently.
She wipes at her face. “I was hungry.”
That earns a laugh out of me, shaky but real. “Come on. Sit. I’ll cook.”
“It’s late,” she protests weakly.
“It’s breakfast somewhere.” I head for the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. My hands find the rhythm without thinking.
Hunter leans against the counter, eyes still glassy from earlier. “I’ll call Landon over. He’s probably still up.”
Ivy frowns. “At four in the morning?”
“Trust me.” Hunter smirks faintly. “The man doesn’t sleep.”
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Landon appears in sweatpants and a T-shirt, hair mussed, beard shadowing his jaw. He takes one look at us gathered in the kitchen and shakes his head, but he doesn’t comment.
By the time the clock ticks toward five, the four of us are crammed around the kitchen island. Plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast. Coffee brewing strong enough to jolt the dead. Chloe stirs faintly on the baby monitor but settles back down.
Ivy eats slow, tucked between me and Hunter, Landon across from us with his mug in hand. There’s a strange peace in it—this little family we’ve cobbled together, awake when the rest of the world sleeps.
And as I watch her lean her head against Hunter’s shoulder, laughing softly when Landon grumbles about the bacon being overcooked, I feel it settle in my bones.
I love her.
Not in the way I’ve loved before. Not fleeting or uncertain. Solid. Like bedrock.
I glance at Hunter, catch him watching her with the same fire in his eyes. He meets my gaze, nods once.
Triplets. Sleepless nights. Mess and chaos and love so big it swallows us whole. We’ve totally got this!
She looks better this morning. Color in her cheeks, hair falling soft around her shoulders. Less like the pale, shell-shocked woman who came back from the ultrasound yesterday. My chest unclenches at the sight.
She clears her throat. “So… I have news.”
All of us look up. Forks pause, mugs stall halfway to mouths.
I tilt my head. “News?”
Her eyes bounce between us, nervous but steady. “I called my employer last night. I was supposed to start in New York in a few days.” She twists her fingers in her lap, then breathes out. “But I asked for an extension. Three months.”
Silence hits first. Then it bursts into joy.
Hunter whoops so loud Chloe squeals over the monitor in response. He’s up and wrapping her in his arms before she can blink. Landon smiles in that quiet way of his, eyes crinkling, setting his mug down to lean over and press a hand to her thigh.
And me? I just sit there, soaking in the picture of her smiling, flushed from our reactions, like the weight she’s been carrying has finally eased.
“You’re staying,” I say.
“For now,” she whispers, but there’s hope in it. “Just… I need time to figure things out. But I couldn’t leave, not yet. Not when—” She swallows, patting her stomach. “Not with this.”
Hunter’s mouth is already on hers before she finishes the sentence. She laughs against him, the sound muffled but sweet. Then Landon leans in, catching her chin for his own kiss.
She reaches for me next, and I don’t hesitate, cupping her face and tasting the soft promise on her lips. But it doesn’t stop there.
One kiss becomes three, becomes a chain of touches and gasps. Her hands slide over my chest, over Hunter’s arm, over Landon’s shoulder. The hunger in the room builds like a storm until it breaks, and suddenly we’re on the sofa, Ivy beneath us, laughing one second and moaning the next.
Her shirt’s tugged up, my mouth skimming over the soft skin of her stomach while Hunter claims her neck and Landon takes her lips again.
She arches beneath us, body pliant, and the world shrinks down to the press of heat, the sounds spilling from her throat, the feel of her nails dragging over my back.
By the time we’re done, the kitchen smells of cooled bacon and coffee gone bitter on the warmer, and the sofa’s a mess of rumpled blankets. Ivy lies between us, chest rising fast, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glazed in the best way.
I press my forehead to hers, still catching my breath. “We should have a babymoon before preseason starts.”
Three sets of eyes swing to me.
“A what now?” Hunter pants.
“A babymoon,” I repeat, grinning when Ivy blinks up at me in confusion. “I saw a post about it on social media and I think it would be cool. It’s like a honeymoon, but before the baby. A trip. Time away. Just us and her, before life gets completely swallowed up in diapers and midnight feedings.”
Hunter lets out a low whistle. “That’s… actually brilliant.”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, but inside I’m proud. She deserves something good. Something just for her.
Landon leans back, still shirtless, beard shadowing his jaw as he thinks. “We could make it happen in about a week. Three days, maybe four, we could get away.”
Ivy’s eyes widen, lips parting. “You’d really do that?”
“All of us,” Hunter says, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Wherever you want to go.”
Ivy’s voice wobbles. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say yes,” I tell her simply.
“Yes,” she whispers, smiling through tears.
We all exhale together, like that one word tethered us tighter than anything else.
But Landon, being Landon, isn’t done surprising her. He shifts, reaching for his phone, tapping something quick before sliding it back onto the table.
“And… I’ve already been in touch with a clinic downtown. They run private prenatal classes. I can set one up for us—focus on multiples. It’ll cover everything. Feeding, sleep, what to expect. We’ll go together.”
Ivy’s mouth falls open. “Landon?—”
He shrugs, but I see the faint pink on his cheeks. “Figured it’d help.”
Hunter groans dramatically. “Of course the lawyer plans homework.”
“Better homework than winging it,” Landon fires back smoothly.
Ivy laughs, covering her face with her hands like it’s all too much. “I love you guys.”
And lying there, still tangled in her warmth, I know she means it.
I hook an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Babymoon, prenatal classes, three months together. We’ve got this, sweetheart.”