Chapter 63
sixty-three
Liana
Morning comes slowly with a soft, golden light slipping through the curtains, warming the room inch by inch until it settles across us.
I wake first.
Elijah is still wrapped around me, his body heavy and relaxed in a way I’ve never felt from him before. One arm is still curved around my waist, his hand resting protectively over my stomach, his breathing deep and steady against my neck.
For a moment, I don’t move, I just lie there, feeling him. Feeling the absence of tension. Feeling the quiet.
It’s different. He’s different and something in my chest loosens at that realization.
Carefully, I shift, easing myself out from under him. His arm tightens instinctively for a second before falling back against the bed, his body still caught in sleep.
I pull on one of his shirts from the floor, the fabric soft and warm as I move into the hallway and freeze.
The marks from last night are still there.
A frame slightly crooked.
A scuff against the wall.
A reminder of how much he needed that release.
How much we both did.
My gaze drops briefly to the dust on the floor before I shake it off, moving toward the bathroom to grab what I need.
When I come back, he’s awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head slightly bowed, his injured arm resting against his thigh as he studies it.
There’s dried blood along the edge of the bandage.
“Elijah.”
He looks up immediately.
“You should still be in bed,” he says quietly.
“And you shouldn’t be pretending that’s fine.”
I cross the room before he can argue, setting everything down and stepping between his knees.
“Let me see.”
“It’s just a graze.”
“Elijah.”
He exhales through his nose, but he doesn’t fight me.
“Alright.”
I carefully peel back his shirt, my fingers gentle as I clean it properly. It’s not deep, but it’s enough that it needs attention.
“You got lucky,” I murmur.
His gaze stays on me.
“I don’t rely on luck.”
“No,” I say softly, rewrapping it, smoothing the bandage into place. “You rely on being stubborn.”
A quiet huff of breath leaves him, almost a laugh.
“Something like that.”
My fingers linger against his arm for a second longer than necessary. Then his hand moves, settling against my thigh. Warm. Solid. Grounding.
“Sit with me,” he murmurs.
I don’t hesitate as I lean against him, absorbing his warmth.
The moment stretches, quiet, steady, until the sound of movement breaks it.
“Jesus,” Jackson’s voice mutters from the doorway. “Do you two ever fuck like normal people?”
I glance over my shoulder.
He’s leaning against the frame, hair a mess, shirt half-on, eyes still heavy with sleep, and absolutely smirking.
Zach appears behind him a second later, quieter, more grounded, his gaze immediately finding me.
“Morning, baby,” he says softly.
“Morning.”
Jackson pushes off the doorframe, walking in fully now, his gaze flicking between us before settling on me.
“Just gonna say,” he adds casually, “that was not a quiet night.”
I blink. Then narrow my eyes slightly.
“Jackson.”
“What?” he grins. “I’m just saying, it made it real hard to sleep. In more ways than one.”
Elijah rolls his eyes, his hand tightening slightly on my thigh.
“Have some restraint.”
Jackson laughs.
“Funny coming from you.”
Zach steps in before it can go further, his hand brushing lightly over my shoulder.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you some food.”
“I’m fine.”
“No,” he says gently but firmly. “You need to eat.”
There’s no edge to it. Just care and I don’t argue.
The kitchen feels… normal.
Quiet movement.
The soft clink of plates.
Jackson moving around with far more confidence than I expected, pulling things together while muttering under his breath.
Zach guides me to a chair, pressing a kiss to my temple before placing a plate in front of me.
“Eat,” he says softly.
Elijah sits beside me, his hand settling back on my thigh like he’s not second-guessing it anymore.
Like he’s not holding himself back.
And that alone makes something in me settle even further. Jackson glances over his shoulder.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says. “Nothing burnt.”
I smile faintly.
“I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” he grins, setting food down in front of me. “I can be domestic when required.”
Zach huffs quietly.
“Rarely.”
Jackson ignores him, dropping into the seat across from me, his gaze flicking over my face briefly.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I nod. “I feel… good.”
Elijah’s thumb moves slowly against my thigh.
“You look it.”
Zach nudges the plate slightly closer to me.
“Eat, Lia.”
I do. Slowly. Carefully. They don’t rush me. They don’t overwhelm me. They just… stay.
Jackson reaches across at one point, brushing his fingers lightly against my wrist.
“I love you,” he says casually.
Like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.
Zach leans down, pressing a kiss to my hair.
“I love you.”
Elijah’s hand tightens slightly, his voice quieter but just as certain.
“I love you.”
The words settle deep. Warm. Steady. Real.
“Write today,” Zach adds gently after a moment. “Let it out.”
I nod softly.
“I will.”
Jackson leans back in his chair, stretching slightly and then his phone buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
His expression shifts immediately. He glances at the screen, something tightening subtly in his jaw before he stands.
“I’ll take this,” he says.
No one stops him. No one questions it. But I watch him as he walks out of the room and something in my chest tightens. Zach presses another piece of toast into my hand.
“Stay here, baby,” he murmurs.
Elijah’s hand stays on my thigh, grounding me. Holding me and for a moment, I let myself sit in it.
In the quiet.
In the warmth.
In the feeling that, maybe, we’re finally moving forward. But when Jackson pauses in the doorway of the next room and I catch the look on his face as he answers the call I know something is shifting again.