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LUNA

I couldn’t settle into my skin. It was like everything inside me had grown two sizes too big—like I might burst open from its ache.

The quiet of the house made it worse. There were no distractions, no chaos, just the soft hum of life continuing around me while my thoughts ran wild.

I’d woken up after only a few hours of sleep, heart thudding, chest tight. A thought had caught me in its claws and wouldn’t let go.

If something happened to either of them tomorrow, what would I regret?

Not that I hadn’t said the right thing. Not that I hadn’t defined it correctly.

I’d miss their warmth. The way Ash held me with calm confidence. The way Connor’s face lit up when he made me laugh. The feel of Ash’s arms around me while we ate pizza on the couch. The comfortable silence during our TV show. The little things. Always the little things.

“What are you thinking about?”

Ash’s voice pulled me back. His hand drifted down my arm, grounding me.

I blinked and realized I was standing in the kitchen, staring at nothing.

“What’s important,” I said softly.

He tilted his head, watching me with quiet curiosity. “And?”

“What I’d be worried about if you were gone tomorrow.”

Ash let out a breathy laugh, and I felt it rumble through his chest as he stepped closer. “We tell you I’ll marry you, and you start plotting our tragic demise?”

“Ha ha,” I murmured, rolling my eyes.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I turned into him, resting my cheek against his collarbone.

“If you weren’t here,” I said, “I’d miss your laugh. The way you hold me like nothing else matters. Falling asleep during your shows. Eating meals together. Watching you get too invested in fantasy league rugby.”

He pulled back just enough to look down at me. “You mean falling asleep while I do all the hard work of picking a lineup?”

I smiled despite myself.

His gaze lifted, and I followed it. Connor was halfway down the stairs, frozen in place like he’d walked in on something fragile.

“I mean both of you,” I said, loud enough for him to hear. “I’d miss all those things with both of you. And different things about each of you.”

Connor’s face softened. Slowly, he descended the last few steps. I reached a hand out toward him without breaking contact with Ash.

Ash gave a quiet sigh and kissed the top of my head. “This past three weeks have been intense… but it’s also been the best of my life.”

Warmth bloomed in my chest.

He kissed my nose and smiled. “I’d miss the way you look up at me. The way you melt into my arms and then give me hell five seconds later. How you can simultaneously submit and subvert. You keep me guessing.”

Connor reached us, slipping his hand into mine.

“I’d miss your vanilla fairy smut,” he said, voice mock-serious.

Ash burst into laughter. “Way to take the moment.”

But Connor didn’t stop. “I’d miss how you bite your bottom lip when you’re reading something spicy, that you’re a sucker for happily ever afters. How you sass us out like you’re in charge, even when you’re blushing the whole time.”

My throat tightened.

Connor raised his hand to brush a tear from my cheek, his thumb featherlight. “I’d miss your face most of all. The way it lights up when you’re happy. I want to see that every day.”

Ash rested his chin on the top of my head. “I want mornings with you. The real kind. Bad breath, weird dreams, too many pillows.”

“I want runs and dinners and stupid memes and that thing you do when you pretend not to be cold but you’re obviously freezing,” Connor added.

I laughed and cried at the same time.

“You’re both ridiculous,” I sniffed.

“But I want all of it,” Connor said. “The ridiculous and the real. I’m not looking for a perfect future. Just one where we’re in it together.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered. “Make a family.”

Ash kissed my temple. “We don’t need you to know. We just need you to keep showing up.”

Connor nodded. “We’ll figure it out. One pizza night at a time.”

The tension that had lived in my chest for days finally started to loosen.

I let myself be held. Not just physically, but emotionally. I didn’t dodge their affection. I didn’t make a joke to deflect its depth.

For the first time in a long time, I let love land.

The Bond hummed in the background—quiet, strong, and steady.

I sighed, content in a way that didn’t feel like it was about to vanish.

For years, weekends had been something I endured. Empty hours echoing through an empty house.

Now, I had built-in company.

Now, I had them.