Chapter 60
sixty
Liana
Waiting is unbearable.
It sits under my skin, restless and sharp, like something constantly shifting without ever settling. Every second stretches too long, every small sound pulling my attention toward it like it might mean something, like it might be him.
But it never is.
The apartment stays quiet.
Too quiet.
Zach breaks it, gently.
“How’s your writing going, baby?” he asks, his voice calm, steady, like he’s placing something in front of me to step into instead of the spiral sitting in my chest.
I recognize it for what it is.
A distraction.
But I take it anyway. Because I need it.
I shift slightly on the couch, my body tucked between them, Jackson’s hand already at the back of my neck, working slow, grounding pressure into the tightness there.
“I’m… still working with the Highlands idea,” I say slowly. “The darker romance. That whole atmosphere.”
Zach nods slightly, watching me.
“And?” he prompts.
I exhale.
“It’s changed a bit,” I admit. “Not the setting. Not the plan. Just… the way I’m writing it.”
Jackson’s thumb drags slowly along the base of my neck, anchoring me.
“How?” he asks softly.
I swallow.
“I’ve been using it,” I say. “To process everything. What happened. How I felt. Everything after.”
The words sit heavy between us.
“It’s darker than anything I’ve ever written,” I add quietly. “But… it fits. It actually fits the world better now.”
There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just full. I hesitate.
“Do you want to read it?” I ask, my voice quieter now, more vulnerable than I mean it to be.
Zach doesn’t answer immediately. He studies me first.
“Only if you want me to read it,” he says gently.
And that, that matters more than I expect.
I nod.
“I do.”
I reach for my laptop, pulling it onto my lap, my fingers slower now as I open the document, the words sitting there like something exposed, something I’ve pulled straight out of myself.
I turn it toward him.
Then hand it over.
Carefully.
I shift back into Jackson as Zach starts reading.
Jackson’s hands move immediately, both of them working into the back of my neck, thumbs pressing slow, deliberate circles that make my shoulders drop inch by inch.
I don’t look at the screen. I watch Zach. The way his eyes move. The way his expression changes. It starts subtle.
Focused.
Then slower. Then something deeper pulls through, something heavier, like the words are settling into him instead of just passing through.
My chest tightens. Because I know what’s in there. I know what I gave him.
Jackson’s voice brushes low against my ear.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
I hadn’t realized I stopped. Zach keeps reading.
And then, his eyes shine.
Just slightly.
But enough. Enough that something inside me twists tight. He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t skim. He takes all of it in. Every piece. And when he finishes, he closes the laptop slowly. Like it matters. Like it deserves that. He looks at me. And there are tears in his eyes.
“Come here, baby.”
I move instantly, shifting into his lap as his arms wrap around me, pulling me in close, holding me tighter than usual, like something in him needs it.
His face presses into my neck, his breath pulling in sharp.
“I love you so much,” he whispers. “And I am so sorry you went through that.”
My throat tightens. His grip tightens with it.
“I promise you,” he adds, quieter now but steadier, “you will never go through something like that again.”
I close my eyes, letting it land.
Letting him hold me.
Letting myself feel it without pushing it away.
After a moment, he pulls back just enough to look at me.
“What you’re writing…” he says softly. “It’s beautiful. It’s emotional. It’s… devastating in the right way.”
A small breath leaves me.
“Thank you.”
Jackson leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple. Then another. Zach follows, brushing a soft kiss to my cheek.
Small touches. Quiet. Steady.
We sit there for a while, the three of us wrapped around each other, the weight in my chest finally easing just a little.
The nausea hits without warning. Sharp. Sudden.
“Oh—”
I’m already moving before I finish the sound, rushing toward the bathroom, my body reacting faster than my brain can catch up.
I drop to my knees, gripping the edge of the toilet as the wave hits. I hear them behind me.
“Lia!”
“Don’t come in here,” I say quickly, breath uneven. “You won’t want to have sex with me ever again if you see this.”
Jackson laughs. Soft. Unbothered.
“Sweetheart,” he says as he steps in anyway, already gathering my hair back, holding it away from my face. “Nothing could ever make me not want you.”
His hand moves slow over my back, steady, grounding as my body works through it, the nausea pulling everything out of me until I’m left shaky and exhausted.
Zach appears beside us, already holding a glass of water.
“Here,” he murmurs.
When it passes, I sit back slowly, my body weak, my head a little light. Jackson is still there. Still steady. Still touching me.
“Told you,” he says quietly.
Zach crouches slightly in front of me.
“There’s nothing,” he says gently, “that would make me not want you.”
I look between them. Really look.
“What about when I get fat?” I ask quietly.
The question slips out before I can stop it. They both smile. Zach takes my hands, helping me stand.
“Then there’s more of you to love.”
Jackson grins.
“And more to grab onto when you’re riding me.”
A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it. It twists into something else. Tears.
“You’re too good for me,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t deserve you.”
I shake my head quickly.
“I’m sorry.”
Zach’s hand comes up immediately, brushing my cheek.
“Don’t apologise, baby.”
Jackson presses a kiss to my temple.
“Not for feeling.”
I brush my teeth slowly, grounding myself again, the familiar motion settling something inside me.
When I come back out, they’re waiting. Of course they are. Zach takes my hand.
“Come on.”
Jackson’s hand returns to my back.
They guide me to bed, no rush, no pressure, just quiet care. I curl between them instantly, my body fitting into theirs like it belongs there, warmth on both sides, their arms wrapping around me, steady and sure.
“Don’t apologise, sweetheart,” Jackson murmurs into my hair.
“It’s just that little baby princess,” Zach adds softly, his hand resting lightly over my stomach, “keeping you on your toes.”
A tired smile touches my lips. I let myself sink into them. Let myself feel safe here. Even with the worry still sitting quietly underneath everything. Even with him still out there. I don’t chase it. I don’t let it take over.
I just breathe.
And slowly, held between them, I drift to sleep, hoping that when I wake up he’ll be home.