9. Kelsey
Kelsey
The morning sun bleeds through the curtains, painting the sheets in streaks of honey and amber.
My lashes lift just enough to catch the sight of them… Kyler's arm slung low across my waist, his calloused fingers splayed possessively over the dip of my hip, while Kieran's leg twines with mine, his thigh heavy and warm between my knees. His breath ghosts over my shoulder, slow and even.
A smile curls my lips before I can stop it, the kind that feels too soft, too private, for the light of day.
Kyler stirs first, his pewter gray eyes cracking open with that razor-sharp awareness that always makes my pulse stutter. He doesn't speak, doesn't need to. His gaze locks onto mine, dark and assessing, like he's already cataloging every flicker of emotion that crosses my face.
His thumb begins a slow, deliberate circle against my skin, each pass sending a shiver down my spine that settles low in my belly.
Kieran shifts behind me, his grip tightening just enough to pull me flush against the solid wall of his chest.
"Morning," he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep, the vibration of it humming through me. His beard scrapes against my temple, the scratch of it sending a jolt of heat straight to my core. I can't help the way my body arches into him, just a little, like a cat stretching in the sun.
I reach out, my fingers brushing the rough stubble of Kyler's jaw before sliding into the silver strands of Kieran's hair. Their eyes darken in unison, the air between us thickening until it's almost hard to breathe.
Kyler's hand drifts lower, his touch deliberate, unhurried, like he's got all the time in the world to explore.
"You like what you see?" he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges.
Kieran's lips find the curve of my neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. "It's like she's memorizing us," he adds, his breath hot against my skin.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. Maybe I am.
Maybe I want to remember the way Kyler's lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the way Kieran's nose crinkles when he makes a joke.
Maybe I want to etch this moment into my bones so I can carry it with me when the world outside this room tries to pull us apart.
A sharp knock at the front door shatters the stillness.
My entire body locks up, every muscle tensing as if bracing for impact. The knock comes again, louder this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of knob turning.
"Kelsey, honey? I'm coming in."
Mom.
I jerk upright, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Kyler's arm tightens around me for a split second before he releases me, his body going rigid beside mine.
Kieran's grip on my hip doesn't loosen, but his entire demeanor shifts, the easy warmth of moments ago replaced by something sharper, more guarded.
The bedroom door creaks open, and my mother enter, her eyes widening as she takes in the three of us tangled together in my bed.
Her expression flickers, confusion giving way to something darker. Her gaze darts from me to Kieran, then to Kyler, her lips pressing into a thin, disapproving line.
"What's going on?" Her voice is too calm, too controlled, the kind of calm that comes right before a storm.
"You shouldn't have come in." My voice cracks, and I hate the way it makes me sound… young, uncertain, like a kid caught sneaking out after curfew.
Her eyes narrow, her gaze sweeping over the rumpled sheets, the way Kyler's hand still rests on my thigh, the way Kieran's body is half-curled around mine like a shield. Her face hardens, the lines around her mouth deepening.
"Are you fucking my daughter?"
The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
What am I supposed to say? That it just happened? That it's just how things are between us now? That I've never felt safer, more cherished, than I do when I'm sandwiched between them?
"Mom, let me explain." The words tumble out in a rush, but they sound hollow, even to my own ears.
"How can you fuck not just my husband, but also his brother… both decades older than you." Her voice rises, sharp and brittle, like glass about to shatter.
She shakes her head, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my stomach twist. "You disgust me."
She turns before I can answer, her movements stiff, jerky, like she can't get away fast enough.
The front door slams a moment later, the sound echoing through the house like a gunshot.
Silence fills the room, thick and suffocating. My throat feels tight, my chest too small to hold the breath I'm trying to take.
Kieran's gaze flicks to me, then toward the hallway, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin.
"I'll talk to her," he says, his voice low, controlled. He doesn't wait for me to respond. He's already moving, already pulling on his pants with quick, efficient motions, his shoulders tense under the weight of whatever's coming next.
The moment he's gone, the room feels too big, too empty. I stare down at my hands, my fingers twisting together in my lap.
Kyler shifts beside me, leaving enough space between us to make it clear he isn't crowding me. But his presence is still there, solid and unyielding, a silent promise that he's not going anywhere.
"Let's wait for her to calm down," he says, his voice rough but steady.
"What if she doesn't?" The question slips out before I can stop it, small and tremulous. "What if she never talks to me again?"
Kyler doesn't hesitate. "She will."
"How do you know?"
"Because she's your mother." His answer is simple, matter-of-fact, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "She's angry because she walked into something she wasn't expecting. That doesn't mean she won't come around."
I swallow, my throat still tight. "She should have let me explain."
"I know." His answer comes immediately, without a hint of doubt. "We should have stopped her."
I nod, but the knot in my chest doesn't loosen. It just sits there, heavy and aching, like a stone I can't dislodge.
Time stretches, slow and endless. The house is too quiet, the kind of quiet that makes every creak of the floorboards, every distant hum of the refrigerator, feel like a shout.
I pick at the edge of the sheet, my fingers restless, my mind racing.
What if she never understands?
What if this was the last time she'll ever look at me?
Eventually, the front door opens again, the sound of it cutting through the silence like a knife. Footsteps echo on the stairs before Kieran appears in the doorway.
He pauses there, his expression carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands flex at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach for me.
"You okay?" His voice is low, careful, like he's testing the waters.
"No."
Kieran nods, his gaze never leaving mine. "I get it."
"What did she say?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He exhales, slow and measured, before stepping fully into the room. "She needs time."
I look down, my fingers twisting together in my lap. "Is she still angry?"
"Yes." There's no sugarcoating it, no attempt to soften the blow. Just the truth, raw and unfiltered.
My stomach twists, acid burning the back of my throat. "At me?"
Kieran moves to the chair across from me, his body folding into it with the kind of controlled grace that comes from years of commanding a room. "At all of us. Just give her time."
"Time for what? To accept it? But what we're doing here..." The words trail off, my voice faltering. I hesitate, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. "Is it even wrong?"
Kieran's expression softens, just a fraction, but it's enough to make my chest ache. "No." The answer is firm, unyielding. "It's not wrong."
My eyes sting, the backs of them burning with the effort of holding back tears. I blink rapidly, my fingers digging into the sheets. "So we just give her time?"
"That's all we can do." His voice is steady, sure, like he's done this a thousand times before, like he knows, without a doubt, that this will work out.
Kyler nods beside me, his hand finding mine, his fingers threading through mine with a quiet certainty. "She'll come around."
I take a slow breath, my lungs expanding with the effort. For the first time since my mother walked through that door, some of the pressure in my chest eases, just a little. Maybe things aren't broken. Maybe we just need to let everyone adjust.
Kieran gets to his feet, his movements fluid, controlled. "Come downstairs to eat."
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak.
He pauses at the doorway, his broad frame filling the space. "Why not?"
"I want to sleep some more."
"You need to eat."
Kyler stands. "Let her rest."
Kieran sighs. "Fine." His eyes lock onto mine, dark and intense. "Don't worry. It's going to be okay."
I nod.
This time, I believe him.
* * *
The first twinge hits like a sucker punch to the gut, a sharp twist that yanks me from the depths of sleep before I even realize what's happening.
My body jerks, eyes flying open, but the room stays blurry, my brain still half-lost in whatever dream I'd been tangled in.
A groan slips past my lips as the nausea coils tighter, a slick, rolling wave that makes my stomach clench in protest.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, willing it to pass, but the sensation only digs in deeper, like claws dragging through my insides.
No such luck.
Another surge hits, stronger this time, and my body lurches upright before I can stop it. The sheets tangle around my legs as I kick them off, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood with a soft thud.
My hand flies to my mouth, fingers pressing hard against my lips as if that alone could hold back the inevitable.
The bathroom door looms ahead, a blurry beacon in the dim light filtering through the curtains, and I bolt for it, my pulse hammering in my throat.
I barely make it.