Epilogue
RUE
Six weeks later
I clutch the toilet bowl, my entire body shaking as another wave hits. Everything comes up—the toast Reed made this morning, the juice Roman insisted I drink.
"Fuck." The word scrapes out of my raw throat.
Strong hands gather my curls away from my face. Roman's thumb traces soothing circles at my nape while Reed's palm flattens against my lower back.
"Easy, little girl." Reed's voice rumbles through me. "Let it out."
"I can't—" My stomach clenches again. "Class starts in twenty minutes."
"You're not going anywhere like this." Roman's other hand cups my forehead, checking for fever. "Third time this week."
Reed shifts behind me, his massive frame blocking out the bathroom light. When I finally slump back against his chest, spent and miserable, his steel-gray eyes lock onto Roman's dark ones over my head.
They share a look I can't quite read.
"Could be stress," I manage, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Exams are coming up, and Kurt's second round of dialysis?—"
"Or it could be exactly what we've been working toward." Reed's palm slides down to rest possessively over my belly. His touch sends heat straight through me despite how awful I feel. "Every night for six weeks, little girl. You think we haven't been keeping track?"
My breath catches. "You mean..."
"We're going to the doctor." Roman's already pulling out his phone. "Now."
"But I have?—"
"No arguments." Reed lifts me like I weigh nothing, carrying me to the bedroom. "Roman, call Dr. Woods. Tell her it's urgent."
I want to protest, to insist I can handle a simple pregnancy test from the drugstore, but another wave of nausea steals my words. Reed settles me on the bed, tucking a blanket around my shoulders while Roman paces near the window, already talking in low tones.
"She can see us in an hour," Roman announces, ending the call. "Private office, back entrance."
Reed nods once, then tips my chin up to meet his piercing gaze. "How do you feel? Honestly."
"Tired." I twist a curl around my finger, the familiar motion grounding me. "Dizzy. My breasts are so sore I can barely stand wearing a bra, and everything smells wrong. The coffee this morning made me want to die."
"Christ." Roman drops onto the bed beside me, his hand immediately finding my knee. "That's textbook, baby."
"Could still be something else." But even as I say it, I know. Deep in my bones, I know. My period should have come two weeks ago. The exhaustion, the sensitivity, the way I burst into tears yesterday when Reed mentioned he might travel for work—it all clicks into place.
Reed's thumb brushes my lower lip. "Whatever the doctor says, we handle it together. Understand?"
I nod, but my heart hammers against my ribs. They want this—have been working toward it since that first night in the dungeon—but wanting and reality are different things. I'm eighteen. Still figuring out college.
"Hey." Roman leans in, his forehead touching mine. "You're spiraling. Stop."
"What if I'm terrible at this?"
"Impossible." Reed's hand curves over my belly again. Claiming. Protective. "You kept Kurt alive for almost two years on your own, little girl. You'll be perfect."
Dr. Woods sets down the ultrasound wand, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, congratulations. You're about six weeks along."
The world tilts.
Reed's hand tightens on my shoulder while Roman's fingers thread through mine, squeezing hard enough to ground me. Both of them are grinning—actual, unguarded smiles that transform their usually intense faces into something boyish and proud.
"Six weeks," Roman repeats, his voice rough. "Fuck, that's..."
"Right on schedule." Reed leans down, pressing his lips to my temple. The gesture is so tender it makes my chest ache. "Good girl."
Heat floods my cheeks despite the clinical setting. Dr. Woods pretends not to notice, pulling up the image on the monitor. A tiny blob, barely there, but real. Mine. Ours.
"Everything looks healthy so far." She points to the screen. "Due date is mid-March. I'm prescribing prenatal vitamins—take them with food to help with the nausea. Small, frequent meals will be your friend for the next few weeks."
I can't stop staring at the grainy image. "Is it... I mean, are they okay? Really?"
"Perfect." Dr. Woods pats my knee. "Young, healthy mother, excellent support system. I'd say this baby is very lucky."
My stepdad's chest rumbles against my back where he's standing behind the exam table. His pride radiates through every point of contact between us, while my stepbrother Roman hasn't stopped grinning, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist.
"No strenuous activity for now," Dr. Woods continues, handing me a stack of papers. "Light exercise is fine—walking, gentle yoga. Plenty of rest. And avoid stress as much as possible."
"We'll make sure of it." Roman's tone brooks no argument. "Whatever she needs."
After more instructions about warning signs and follow-up appointments, we finally leave through the back entrance. The moment we're in the car, Reed pulls me onto his lap in the backseat while Roman slides behind the wheel.
"Proud of you, little girl." Reed's beard scrapes my jaw as he nuzzles into my neck. "So fucking proud."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes insistently against my thigh. Kurt's name flashes across the screen, and my stomach immediately clenches with worry. He never calls unless something's wrong—or unless he's had another setback with his condition.
"Hey, bug." I press accept with shaking fingers, still nestled securely in Reed's arms in the backseat. His warmth anchors me as anxiety threatens to spiral. "What's going on? Are you okay?"
Reed's hand finds the back of my neck, his thumb stroking in slow, soothing circles.
Roman adjusts the rearview mirror so he can see my face, his jaw already tensing in preparation for bad news.
They both know how these calls usually go—another infection, more complications, another crushing disappointment from the transplant list.
I brace myself for the worst, my free hand unconsciously drifting to my belly where our tiny miracle is growing.
"They found one!" Kurt's voice cracks with excitement. "A kidney! The transplant coordinator just called. Surgery's scheduled three weeks from now!"
My vision blurs. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Full match, healthy donor, everything's perfect." He's talking so fast the words trip over each other. "They're doing more tests to confirm, but the doctor said it's happening, Rue. It's really happening."
Reed must hear through the phone because his arms tighten around me. Roman glances back from the driver's seat, his dark eyes questioning.
"That's incredible." Tears stream down my face—happy ones for once. "I'm so proud of you, Kurt. So proud."
After we hang up, I turn to find both men watching me with matching expressions of satisfaction and heat.
"Two celebrations in one day." Roman's voice drops low. "Looks like we need to make tonight special."
Reed's hand slides possessively over my still-flat belly. "When we get home, little girl, we're going to show you exactly how good we can make you feel. Reward you properly for giving us this gift."
"Both of us," Roman adds, pulling into traffic. "All night if that's what it takes."
Heat pools low despite my earlier nausea. "You're insatiable."
"Only with you." My stepfather's teeth graze my earlobe. "Only ever with you."
The second we step through the front door, Reed spins me around and claims my mouth. His kiss is consuming, possessive, one hand cupping my jaw while the other spans my lower back. When he finally releases me, Roman is already there, his lips just as demanding, just as hungry.
They work in tandem, passing me between them as my clothing disappears piece by piece.
Reed's fingers make quick work of my cardigan buttons while Roman tugs my shirt over my head.
My bra vanishes somewhere between the entryway and the stairs.
By the time we reach the second-floor landing, my jeans are pooled on the steps behind us.
"So perfect." Roman's mouth trails down my throat as we stumble toward the master bedroom—Reed's room, though it feels like ours now. "Can't believe you're carrying our baby."
Reed kicks the door open, his hands already sliding my panties down my hips. The cool air hits my bare skin just as the back of my knees meet the edge of the massive bed. I fall backward onto the navy duvet, completely exposed, while both men tower over me with matching expressions of raw need.
Roman sheds his clothes just as quickly, his olive skin and the roses-and-thorns tattoo sleeve catching the afternoon light filtering through the blinds. Both men are already hard, their bodies primed and ready as they climb onto the bed on either side of me.
Reed captures my mouth again, his beard scraping my chin as his tongue sweeps in deep. His calloused palm cups my breast, thumb circling my sensitive nipple until I arch into the touch. Roman's lips trail down my ribs, his teeth grazing the curve of my hip.
"You have no idea how happy you make us." Roman's breath ghosts over my belly, his fingers splaying possessively over where our child grows. "Both of you. All three of us."
My stepfather pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his steel-gray gaze fierce with emotion. "Knew the first time we filled you that you'd take so perfectly. Knew you'd give us this."
"Daddy..." The word slips out breathless, needy.
"That's right, little girl." He settles his weight over me, careful not to crush but heavy enough that I feel surrounded, claimed. "Your daddy's so proud of you. So fucking proud."
Roman moves up to claim my other side, his hand joining Reed's on my body. They're everywhere at once—mouths on my throat, my shoulders, my breasts; hands stroking, gripping, worshipping every inch of bare skin. The evidence of their arousal presses against my thighs, hot and insistent.
"Going to take care of you." Roman's teeth catch my earlobe. "Both of you. Always."