Page 39 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)
I hang up and stare out the window, watching the first snowfall of the new year dust the porch, pristine white covering the wooden railings and steps. The Christmas lights still twinkle along the eaves, multicolored stars in the growing darkness.
There's so much left to figure out, how we go public, how we navigate the storm that's coming, how to protect our little triangle from the scrutiny we know is brewing just over the horizon. The questions loom large in my mind, threatening to overwhelm me if I let them.
That's tomorrow's problem, I remind myself firmly.
Tonight, I hold Chloe close as fireworks start outside, her little body warm against mine, her eyes wide with wonder at the distant booms and flashes of color visible through the window.
I whisper into her hair, breathing in her baby-sweet scent, "This is your first New Year, baby girl. I swear to you, whatever this year brings, you will always be surrounded by love. So much love you won't know what to do with it all."
January comes in with a vengeance. Bitter cold that seeps through the old Victorian windows no matter how much I try to seal them with plastic sheeting and weather stripping.
The drafts find their way in regardless, chilling the hardwood floors and making me grateful for thick socks and space heaters.
I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor of my studio, sketching mindlessly while Chloe naps in her portable crib nearby, bundled in her warmest sleeper with an extra blanket tucked around her.
The guys have been gone for five days, and the house feels emptier than I'd like to admit, too quiet without Devan's constant music and Tobias's soft footfalls.
I catch myself staring at my phone again, checking for texts that aren't there.
They're in the middle of a game in Vancouver right now.
I can picture Devan's focused expression, the way his eyebrows furrow when he's in game mode, the way Tobias hunches slightly before face-offs, that little tell he has when he's centering himself.
"Get it together, Masters," I mutter, tapping my pencil against the sketchbook in a nervous rhythm. "You survived twenty-seven years without two men in your bed. You can handle a road trip."
The truth sits heavy in my chest, impossible to ignore.
I miss them. Both of them. The way Devan's laugh fills every corner of a room like sunshine breaking through clouds.
The quiet intensity in Tobias's eyes when he's really listening, like you're the only person in the world worth his attention.
The warmth of being tucked between them at night, safe and cherished in a way I've never felt before.
A text buzzes through, and my heart does that embarrassing little flutter, like I'm sixteen again with my first crush.
Devan: Munchkin sleep all night?
I smile, snapping a quick picture of Chloe's sleeping form, her tiny fist pressed against her cheek, dark lashes fanned against her skin.
Me: Yes. Your daughter's a champion sleeper.
Devan: Just like her momma. Remember Christmas morning?
I roll my eyes but can't stop grinning at the memory.
I'd fallen back asleep after that peaceful moment with Chloe, only to be woken by both men climbing back into bed with coffee and fresh-baked cinnamon rolls, insisting we open presents before anyone arrived.
Tobias had handed me a small box containing a delicate silver bracelet with Chloe's birthstone, while Devan gave me a first edition of my favorite romance novel, the one I'd mentioned offhandedly months ago.
It had been perfect. Until Devan mentioned telling his parents about us, about the three of us, and reality came crashing back in.
My stomach knots at the memory, twisting uncomfortably.
It's not that I don't want this to be real, God knows I do.
I want to shout it from the rooftops some days, but once we start telling people, it becomes something the world can touch.
Something the world can judge and dissect and potentially destroy.
The world isn't always kind to things that don't fit in neat little boxes, and we are definitely coloring outside the lines.
The NHL barely handled Sebastian and Derrick's relationship announcement without imploding, and that was a straightforward gay relationship.
The thought of explaining that not only is the father of my child dating his former college teammate, but I'm dating both of them?
The media would have a field day, tearing into our private lives with gleeful abandon.
Caught in the crossfire would be Chloe, innocent and oblivious to the storm around her.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.
Tobias: You there? We miss you.
A lump forms in my throat. How does he always know when I'm spiraling? It's like he has a sixth sense for my anxiety, always reaching out at exactly the right moment.
Me: Studio. Working. Missing your faces.
Tobias: Just our faces? (winky face emoji)
I snort, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as memories from our last night together flash through my mind, tangled limbs and breathless whispers and the weight of their bodies pressing me into the mattress.
Me: And maybe a few other parts.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again. I can almost see him debating what to say next, how to phrase it.
Tobias: We need to talk when we get back. About everything.
Just like that, my anxiety comes roaring back, a tidal wave threatening to drown me. I know what ‘everything’ means. It means decisions. It means deciding when to tell the people we care about what we are to each other.
I set the phone down without answering, not trusting myself to respond without letting my fear show.
Outside, snow is falling again, covering the yard in pristine white that will soon be trampled and marked by footprints and tire tracks.
Kind of like us, I suppose. We've had this beautiful, private thing, untouched by outside eyes or opinions.
Nothing stays unmarked forever, though. Eventually, the world leaves its imprint.
I stare at the half-finished sketches in front of me, new designs for the Vipers women's line.
Marla convinced me to add more feminine silhouettes instead of just shrinking men's designs, fitted jackets that actually accommodate curves, leggings with the team logo subtly incorporated into the pattern.
I'm sure when the line's revealed the orders will be pouring in, especially with Marla's PR genius behind it.
When all this is over, success will feel good.
So why am I sitting here with a knot in my chest that won't unravel?
Because I'm scared. Terrified, actually. Loving them happened so naturally I barely noticed I was falling until I'd already hit the ground, heart-first, but I'm scared of what comes next.
What if we go public and the pressure breaks us?
What if Ridley feels betrayed that I didn't tell him sooner?
What if the team management decides one polyamorous relationship is one too many for their precious image and trades Tobias away?
What if my business suffers when clients learn about my unconventional home life?
Chloe stirs, making those little grunting sounds that signal she's waking up. I set aside my sketches and go to her, lifting her warm, sleep-heavy body against mine.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," I whisper, breathing in that perfect baby smell that somehow centers me instantly. "Did you have good dreams? Were you flying with the dragons again?"
She blinks up at me, those big eyes so much like Devan's it makes my heart ache with longing. Then she smiles, two little teeth gleaming in her gummy grin, melting every ounce of anxiety in my body like ice under a blowtorch.
"You're right," I tell her, as if she's said something profound instead of just babbling nonsense sounds. "One day at a time. That's how we'll do this. That's how we've always done it."
After all, that's how we got through the holidays. One moment at a time, savoring each bit of joy without worrying about tomorrow. One meal, one present, one kiss, one laugh, stringing them together like lights on a Christmas tree until they formed something beautiful.
Maybe that's the secret to getting through whatever's coming next. Not trying to solve everything at once but just holding onto each good moment as it comes, trusting that they'll add up to something worth fighting for.
I glance back at my phone, finally typing a response with one hand while cradling Chloe with the other.
Me: We'll figure it out together. All of us. Just come home safe.
Because that's the truth, isn't it? Whatever happens, we'll face it together. The three of us against the world, with this perfect little girl as our center.
I cradle Chloe closer, humming softly as I watch the snow continue to fall, blanketing everything in clean white possibility. Tomorrow will bring what it brings. Today, in this quiet moment, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything will work out as it should.