Kyler
Ten years later
The kitchen is a warzone.
Timothy and Damon are arguing over the last pancake, their voices rising in that familiar, ear-splitting pitch that only brothers can achieve.
Amelia is trying to mediate, her hands on her hips, her voice sharp with exasperation.
Reynold is already halfway out the door, his backpack slung over one shoulder, yelling something about being late for soccer practice.
Gail and Ella are giggling at the table, their heads bent together over a shared phone, while Peter and Chris chase each other in circles, their laughter echoing off the walls.
And Kelsey is leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands, her eyes warm as she watches the chaos unfold.
I should be helping. I know I should be helping. But for a moment, I just stand there, my arms crossed over my chest, my shoulder pressed against the doorframe, and watch.
This is the life I chose.
And I love it. The noise. The mess. The way Kelsey's lips curve when she catches me staring, the way her eyes soften when she knows exactly what I'm thinking.
Kieran shoves past me, his own coffee mug in hand, his expression a mix of amusement and exhaustion. "You just gonna stand there?" he mutters, nudging me with his elbow. "Or are you gonna help before they burn the house down? Your kids are going wild."
I grunt, pushing off the doorframe. "So they're mine when they're being naughty, but yours when they're great?"
He smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. "No. They'll always be ours. Maybe this is the price for wanting a big family."
He's right. We wanted this.
I wanted it.
I wanted the noise. The laughter. The way the house feels alive in a way it never did before. I wanted the way Kelsey's eyes light up when she walks into a room and sees all of us together. I wanted the way the kids look at me like we're their whole world.
And we are.
I step into the chaos, my hand landing on Damon's shoulder before he can swipe the last pancake from Timothy's plate. "Enough," I growl, my voice low. "Share it."
Damon pouts, but he doesn't argue. Timothy grins, tearing the pancake in half and handing a piece to his brother. Amelia rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too.
Kieran moves to the stove, flipping another batch of pancakes onto a plate. "Reynold!" he barks. "Don't forget to be home before dinner."
Reynold groans but doesn't protest. Gail and Ella abandon their phone, rushing to the table to claim their seats, while Peter and Chris finally collapse onto the floor, breathless and grinning.
And Kelsey just watches, her eyes shining. I move toward her, my hand sliding around her waist, pulling her against me.
She leans into my touch, her body warm and soft against mine.
"You good?" I murmur, my lips brushing her ear.
She nods, her fingers tightening around her mug. "Just thinking."
"About?"
She tilts her head back, her eyes meeting mine. "How the hell we got so lucky."
I smirk, my hand sliding down to cup her ass. "We made our luck."
She laughs, the sound warm and rich, and it settles something deep in my chest. Kieran catches my eye over the chaos, his own smirk mirroring mine.
This is the life we chose.
The noise. The mess. The love.
And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
* * *
Kelsey
The weight of the day presses into my bones, each breath slower than the last as I sink deeper into the mattress.
Kyler's arm is a heavy band across my waist, his fingers splayed possessively over the swell of my stomach.
Kieran's chest rises and falls against my back, his beard tickling the nape of my neck with every exhale.
The house is finally quiet.
No more stomping feet. No more shrieked arguments over who gets the last cookie. No more demands for bedtime stories or one more glass of water.
Just the three of us, tangled together in the dark, the sheets twisted around our legs like we've been fighting a war… and winning.
Kyler's voice rumbles against my skin, low and rough. "What are you shaking your head for?"
I hum, my eyelids too heavy to lift. "I'm thinking about how we're never sleeping again if we have another one."
Kieran's laugh. "Sleeping is for the week."
Kyler's fingers tighten on my hip. "He's right."
I groan, but it turns into a laugh, my body shaking between them. "You two are crazy."
Kyler's hand drifts lower, his fingers tracing idle patterns over my thigh. "YOu know… nine's a good number."
I snort. "Eight's already a nightmare."
Kieran reaches for my shirt. "We'll make it work."
I roll my eyes, even though they can't see it. "You say that now. Wait until we're outnumbered ten to three."
Kyler's chest shakes with silent laughter. "We've got this."
I sigh, my body melting into the bed. "I'm too tired to argue."
Kieran's voice drops, rough with promise. "Sleep. We can take care of ourselves."
I blink into the dark. "Make sure that I don't wake up."
Kieran's hand leaves my breast, his palm sliding up to cradle my jaw. "You're so tired you'll sleep through it all."
Kieran's thumb traces my bottom lip. "We'll handle it. All night long."
I swallow. "That doesn't sound promising."
Kieran's hand slides down my throat, his fingers pressing lightly against my pulse. "Don't worry. We'll be gentle."
Kyler's hand drifts back up, his fingers teasing the waistband of my panties. "We have to make sure you're energized for tomorrow."
I shiver, my body betraying me with a slow, aching throb between my thighs. "What's happening tomorrow?"
Kieran's laugh is a warm puff of air against my skin. "We'll continue trying for our number nine."
Kyler's hand leaves my thigh, his arm wrapping around me again, pulling me flush against him. "So sleep. We'll be here when you wake up."
My eyelids start drooping, the weight of the day pulling me under.
Kieran's voice is the last thing I hear, a low murmur against my skin.
"Good night, our love."
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