Chapter 43
luna
The snow crunched under our boots as we crossed the short stretch from the cabin to the main house, our breath puffing in the cold. My thighs were cramping from what had happened less than thirty minutes ago.
When Jer opened the door for me, the warmth hit first, followed by the scent of coffee and something sweet baking in the oven.
Dirks’s mom was in the kitchen, her blond hair perfectly blown out.
She wore a soft cream sweater dress cinched at the waist with a leather belt, leggings, and tidy little ankle boots.
I glanced down at myself—fitted jeans, a chunky blue sweater, hair twisted half up, the ends still a little wild from bed.
Beside me, Jer looked like my shadow—head to toe in a black Henley with black jeans.
The only thing breaking it up was the tattoos curling up his hands and disappearing under his sleeves.
“Morning, you two,” she said warmly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Coffee’s fresh, breakfast is just about ready.”
I slipped past Jer and padded toward Dirks, who was leaning against the counter, a mug already in hand. His blue eyes softened when they landed on me.
“Hi, Luna girl.”
“Hi,” I said back, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.
He caught my waist for a second and held me there.
Jer was still at the entry, pretending to inspect a photo on the wall, probably to give us a moment.
We moved into the dining room, where a plate of golden, fluffy pancakes sat in the center.
A mound of scrambled eggs was next to crispy hash browns glistening with butter, slabs of thick-cut bacon curling at the edges, and a Crock-Pot of sausage gravy.
Off to the side, homemade cinnamon rolls were cooling, their glaze dripping lazily down the sides.
“Go on, dig in before it gets cold.” She gestured to the food.
I slid into the seat between Dirks and Jer, my knees brushing both of theirs under the table, and reached for the coffee carafe.
Dani came bustling through with the kids on her heels, their little boots already laced up. “The kids are going outside to make snow angels.”
The four-year-old was already halfway into her coat, mittens dangling from her teeth. Carter followed, bouncing with the kind of energy only kids and golden retrievers have.
Tom came down the stairs next, smelling faintly of aftershave, giving everyone a polite good morning before snagging a seat. Dirks’s dad trailed in behind him, coffee in hand, looking freshly showered, but still very much the man who could chop firewood in twenty below without breaking a sweat.
We’d been eating for a few minutes, the hum of small talk weaving between the clink of forks and the occasional burst of laughter from outside. Then Jer cleared his throat.
“Hey,” he said, and every head at the table lifted. “I . . . wanted to apologize for last night. I was tired and . . . ” He hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to me. “And embarrassed. About what Dirks wanted to say.”
Dirks looked over at him, brow furrowed, but I shook my head slightly, warning him with my eyes. I knew exactly where this was going, and my pulse spiked in my throat.
Jer leaned back in his chair, turning toward him fully. “Dirks wanted to tell you something.”
Dirks swept his gaze over the table, then back to Jer, who didn’t look away.
“Go ahead,” Jer murmured.
Dirks set his fork down and cleared his throat. “Well, I already told you all that Luna’s my girlfriend.”
I smiled at his family, feeling the heat of all their eyes on me.
“And she’s also—” He glanced toward Jeremy, and I saw the muscles in Jeremy’s jaw lock tight.
“—also really close with Jeremy,” I said, flashing my most innocent smile as I slid my hand over Dirks’s thigh under the table in warning. “The three of us have been . . . connected for a long time. We share a lot of life together.”
There was a beat before Dani’s eyes went wide, Tom bit back a smirk, and Dirks’s dad lifted his brows just slightly before he busied himself with his coffee.
Dirks’s mom tilted her head with the fakest sweetness I’d ever seen. “Ohhh . . . I see,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a toddler who’d just admitted to drawing on the wall. “So you’re . . . all close.”
The “all” landed like a wink without her actually winking.
I matched her tone. “Very close. Like family.”
“Well,” his mom said, picking her fork back up, “isn’t that . . . nice.”
Tom took a slow sip of his orange juice, eyes flicking between the three of us. “A family who sleeps in one bed . . . naked.”
Dani’s elbow shot into his ribs, but it was too late. Dirks froze mid-bite. Jeremy stopped chewing entirely, staring across the table like he was trying to figure out if murder was worth prison time.
I lifted my coffee to my lips and smiled sweetly at Tom. “At least we keep each other warm.”
His dad cleared his throat. “Well, winters are cold here.”
Dirks started laughing, that deep, unrestrained laugh that always made everyone else crack even when they didn’t want to. Jeremy’s lips twitched before he actually let out a chuckle.
Dirks wiped at his eyes, still grinning, and looked straight at his mom. “I know it’s unconventional and all, but—”
She cut him off, eyebrows knitting like she was trying to line the pieces up in her head. “Are you guys . . . ?” She pointed between the two of them.
Jeremy blinked. “Uh—”
Her face softened before he could even form a word. “Because you know, I love boys who love boys.”
Dirks choked on his coffee, and I nearly spit mine across the table. Jeremy’s ears went red.
“Mom,” Dirks groaned.
I was laughing so hard I had to grab my napkin and press it to my mouth. “I, too, like boys who like boys,” I told her with a wink.
Jeremy, deadpan as ever, cut in. “We’re together—with Luna.”
Dirks, not missing a beat, shrugged. “But sometimes boys are cool.”
His dad leaned back in his chair, totally straight-faced. “Well, sure. You’re on a hockey team. Surrounded by sweaty, half-naked men in the locker room—what’s not to like?”
That sent Dani into a choking fit, Tom actually slapped the table, and Jeremy broke and laughed. Dirks groaned again, muttering something about needing another cup of coffee to survive this breakfast.
“Do they love you, Luna? Both the boys?” his mom asked.
I glanced at Jer. We hadn’t said the words out loud, but the truth between us was there.
“They do.”
“That’s all a girl can ask.”
“Damn,” Dani chimed in, shaking her head with a grin. “I could only get one, and you’ve got two.”
I smirked into my coffee. “What can I say? I’m a generous sharer.”
That got the table laughing, and that’s pretty much how breakfast went—light teasing, hot coffee, and the smell of bacon hanging in the air—until we bundled up and stepped outside so they could show me the rink where Dirks used to pick up weekend hockey games.
“That was nice, right?” I asked Dirks and Jer, both up front in the car.
“Yes. Really nice. Thanks for coming. Both of you,” Dirks said earnestly.
Dirks couldn’t see me from the driver’s seat, but I still gave a little nod. He’d insisted on driving us back, leaving Jer and me to play his spoiled passenger princesses.
“I love you, Dirks.”
He dipped his head but kept his eyes steady on the road. “I love you too, Lune.”
A pause, then Jer mumbled under his breath, “Yeah, yeah. Me too.”
I grinned and leaned back against the seat. “God, you two are terrible at romance. Good thing I carry the whole relationship.”
Jer huffed out a laugh. “So . . . is this thing official now?”
“I don’t know. I guess we can . . . take it slow. Dirks’s family already knows, so . . . ”
Dirks flicked his eyes to me in the rearview mirror. “Are you going to tell Nova?”
“No. She’s busy with the wedding in a few months. We’re leaving for England and having something small.”
Nova didn’t need this right now. She deserved to have her wedding without the worry of wondering what I was doing, or who I was doing it with.
She had her own fresh start to focus on, her own happiness to protect.
The least I could do was not blow it up with my mess.
At least not until after she walked down that aisle.
Dirks tapped against the steering wheel. “Are we going?”
I hesitated, then shook my head again. “No. Sorry. It’s just us. Ollie’s parents, Scarlette and . . . ”
Shit.
“Who is it, Lune?”
I groaned, tipping my head back. “Ugh, fine. Okay. It’s Will.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Jer groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“It’s fine,” I rushed out. “I’ll be focused on the wedding, not him. Promise.”
Jer side-eyed Dirks, then huffed out a laugh. “Well, looks like I’ll be at your fucking house that week, making sure I’m not dying without her.”
Dirks barked a laugh. “You sure you don’t wanna cuddle instead?”
Jer swatted his shoulder, muttering a curse, and the car filled with our laughter as the city lights of Chicago pulled us closer.
“Speaking of stretching out with someone,” Dirks said once the laughter settled, his eyes catching mine in the mirror, “when are you opening that yoga studio? You’ve been talking about it forever.”
“The next few months. Papers are signed, lease is mine. It still doesn’t feel real.”
Jer smirked, leaning back in his seat. “Great, so we’ll have our own personal instructor to keep us from pulling muscles when she rides us too hard.”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, but I was laughing again, shaking my head.
Opening a studio wasn’t only about yoga, it was about creating a space I’d wished for when I first started.
Somewhere women who were curvy, like me, could roll out a mat without feeling like they didn’t belong.
For so long, I’d walked into studios and felt like my body was wrong, like I had to shrink myself to fit in.
I leaned my head against the window, the glass cool against my cheek, and smiled. “It’s more than a studio,” I added quietly. “It’s a dream.”
It felt like a dream—not just the studio finally coming to life, but being between them, laughing like no time had passed. I’d missed this. Missed us. Jer’s smart-ass comebacks, Dirks’s deep laugh, the way they fell into sync even when pretending not to.
Back then, I tried to believe Will was enough. Pretended it, even. But he was never what I wanted, just a distraction from the ache they left behind.
Even oceans away, my heart hadn’t moved. It had always been theirs. There was no life with Will. No life with anyone else.
Only Jer’s chaos, Dirks’s steadiness, and me, the piece that made us whole.