Chapter 35
Jamie
Six weeks have passed, though it feels more like six lifetimes.
The wounds we carried—the cuts, the bruises, the deeper ones etched into muscle and memory—are fading, slowly knitting into something survivable.
Chloe, Miles, and I move through the days like ghosts with better lighting, laughing sometimes, arguing, but always together at the end of the day. Together is the word that matters most now.
Chloe is quieter than she used to be, softer, but there’s fire behind her eyes.
She tended to her own injuries for some time, and by now, they’re fading.
Miles hovers near her when he can, the bruises on his ribs fading but the stiffness in his shoulders a permanent echo of the night in the warehouse.
I see him flinch sometimes, just slightly, when a loud noise rattles the apartment.
We let it pass, let the tension unravel in the safety of the little space we’ve claimed for ourselves.
The funeral for Chloe’s father was a delicate deception. Chloe insisted on attending—it was part ceremony, part catharsis—but we had to invent a story for our presence.
“We had a minor car accident,” she told her mother, her voice smooth, practiced.
Her mother smiled, though there was a flicker of something in her gaze, a question Chloe didn’t answer.
Maybe she believed it. Maybe she didn’t.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that her mother met us—really met us—all of us together, and didn’t recoil.
She only raised an eyebrow, smiled faintly, and welcomed us in the quiet way parents do when they see their child safe, even if the truth is jagged and impossible.
This is the same with my own family. They still don’t get why I had to switch schools and move to the next town over just to finish out my degree.
I lied and said that I had been the one who injured the hockey kid with his motorcycle and therefore I needed to lay low for a bit.
My father gave me a wad of cash and told me to be safe.
Chloe’s mother on the other hand is happy in Paris now, far removed from everything that threatened to tear us apart.
She laughs easily on the phone, talks about the cafés she’s discovered, the paintings she’s seen, the dinners she’s hosted.
Her voice carries through the receiver and I feel some of the tension leave Chloe, feel her exhale in a way that says the world is not all broken.
Miles leans back in the chair across from me, still rubbing the stubborn stiffness from his ribs, and says something low, more to himself than anyone else. “We survived.” His tone isn’t triumphant—it never is—but it’s steady, honest.
I glance at Chloe, who’s tidying the small kitchen, humming under her breath, a habit she picked up after the night terrors eased. She glances back at me and smiles, small, private, and I realize the weight we carried has lessened, if only slightly. We’re still alive. We’re still ourselves.
Outside, the light is soft, the kind that comes before sunset, painting everything gold. We’ve taken this city, this apartment, these little routines, and claimed them from the chaos. The past is never gone, but it no longer controls the way we breathe.
Chloe pauses, leaning against the counter, eyes meeting mine. “How are we celebrating Miles’s birthday by the way? And you are not allowed to say sex,” she says, almost like a vow, almost like a promise.
“I love sex,” Miles says.
I shake my head, happy with their banter. “Shouldn’t we be looking into joining campus and finishing school. I hear it has a great cheerleading scholarship, baby.”
“Scholarship?” she asks.
I nod.
She bites her lips. “Will you help me with the paperwork?”
“If you fuck me every night.”
Miles scoffs. “I’m not third wheeling.”
Chloe looks between the two of us. “You are never a third wheel, baby.”
“Yeah?” Miles asks, allowing her to slip on his lap. She’s wearing a skirt, which I realize is on purpose. “How about an early birthday––”
She presses a finger against his lips. “Shh, don’t say another word.” Then she starts making out with him. I watch as they lick each other’s mouths. My dick swells in my pants.
“Fuck,” I groan, and Chloe reaches out her hand for me.
I let her palm fall on my bare dick, and when she turns, her face softens as she pumps me a few times.
Miles grabs her hand from my cock and says, “Wait your fucking turn.”
I grab the back of her neck, forcing her lips against mine. I watch as Miles scowls at me, rubbing her clit under her skirt.
“No fighting,” Chloe whispers against my mouth. “Now sit there like a good boy and watch Miles fuck me.”
I do as I’m told, putting my cock back in my pants, watching Miles take his time on her.
He kisses her down, teasing her. I catch her eyes a few times, but she’s solely focused on Miles and what he’s doing to her.
And then she takes control, giving me the perfect view of how well her pussy strokes Miles’ dick.
“Is it my turn yet?” I mutter. I don’t wait for an answer as I tug off my clothes and lay down next to Miles. “Baby, I’m ready whenever you are.”
Miles grabs onto her hips, not letting her go.
We change positions. Miles fucks her from behind while I choke her on my cock.
“There’s my perfect girl,” I growl as she takes me deeper.
She starts moaning and shaking out of control, getting me more worked up and excited. I come down her throat while Miles fills pussy with his.
We fall onto the bed with her in between us. Miles keeps a possessive hand on her stomach while I stare at her cute face. She’s flushed, glistening with a tiny amount of sweat.
“I was thinking…” She trails off as Miles runs his hands up to her lips. He leans in and kisses her cheek.
“What were you going to say, baby?”
“Can this really work?” she says aloud but it sounds like a question she’s asking herself.
Miles nods, and I agree. “It is working.”
“What happens when I want babies?” she says absentmindedly.
I smile as Miles stills. I force her chin to my face. I search deep into her eyes, knowing damn well I’ll fuck her until she’s pregnant with my kids.
She whispers, “Just a random question so we can prepare.”
I nod. “Baby, if you want kids, we’ll give them to you.”
“Wouldn’t that be––”
Miles speaks, “We’ll give them to you, so that promises you two babies.”
“From two different dads?” she mutters again like she’s talking to herself.
I nod. “Nothing the world hasn’t seen before.”
“What would we tell the kids?”
“That their daddies are obsessed with their mommy,” Miles says, kissing her.
“It wouldn’t be a lie,” I add, reaching for her.
She smiles. “Really?”
I nod with a smile as I kiss her.
She smiles back, looking at both of us. “I love you.”
My heart sinks. “Baby––”
Miles says, “I fucking love you too.”
He kisses her as I say, “I love you too, baby.” I kiss her cheek and then her lips meet mine.
My dick’s hard between my legs. “How about we start right now?”
She laughs. “No, I’m not ready right now.”
I flip her onto her stomach, pushing her skirt to her waist. “Suit yourself, baby. It’s my turn to fuck you.”
Miles grabs her face. “And my turn to fuck this pretty face.”
I look at them—Chloe, Miles—and feel the surge of relief that we made it this far. We’ve lost so much, yes, but we’ve also survived. And in survival, we’ve found something resembling peace. Something resembling home.
The sun dips lower, spilling orange across the walls as I fuck her pussy and Miles takes her mouth, and I know that whatever comes next, we will face it side by side. Because this is ours.
Our family. Our fucked up happily ever after.
The End.