Page 72 of Push My Buttons

Love.

Do I love them? Yes. Both of them, in different ways that somehow form a perfect whole. Jace with his quiet intensity, his careful protection, his brilliant mind. Theo with his irreverent humor, his unexpected depth, his unwavering belief in me.

But do they love me? They've never said it. Never pushed for definitions or labels or promises. Maybe that's for the best—keeping things fluid, undefined, allowing me the space to heal without expectations.

Still, I can't help but wonder what they're thinking. If they understood what that word meant coming from me. If they feel the same overwhelming connection that I do.

"You're thinking so loudly I can practically hear it," Theo murmurs, setting his phone aside to look at me properly. "Want to share with the class?"

I shake my head, not ready to articulate the swirl of emotions inside me.

"Come on," he coaxes gently. "Those gears are turning so hard I'm surprised smoke isn't coming out of your ears."

I start to sign something dismissive, but he catches my hands, stilling them.

"It's about what you said earlier, isn't it?" he asks, his voice soft but knowing. "That word."

Heat floods my cheeks. Am I that transparent?

"It's okay," he continues, misreading my embarrassment as discomfort. "You don't have to explain. We're just proud of you for the breakthrough."

He starts to say something else, but I place my fingers against his lips, stopping him. His eyebrows lift in surprise as I shift, moving to straddle his lap in one fluid motion.

I need him to understand what I can't say—what I can't sign or speak. Need him to feel what that word meant to me.

His hands settle automatically on my hips as I lean down to kiss him, slow and deliberate. I pour everything into the contact—all the gratitude, all the wonder, all the fragile, trembling hope I've been harboring.

I'm vaguely aware of Jace beside us, his fingers hovering over his keyboard, his attention completely diverted from the screen. I can feel his gaze on us, burning with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Theo responds to my kiss with surprising gentleness, his usual playfulness tempered by something deeper. His hands slide up from my hips to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with such tenderness it makes my chest ache.

When we break apart, his eyes are dark, searching mine for answers to questions he hasn't asked.

"Wren," he breathes, and just my name on his lips feels like a benediction.

I turn, still straddling Theo's lap, to find Jace watching us with that focused intensity that makes my breath catch. His laptop isalready set aside, forgotten in favor of what's happening in front of him.

I reach for him, an invitation he doesn't hesitate to accept. He moves closer, his hand sliding into my damp hair as he pulls my mouth to his.

Where Theo's kiss was gentle, Jace's is consuming—a slow devouring that makes heat pool low in my belly. His other hand finds my waist, fingers splaying possessively across my ribs.

Theo's hands haven't left me either. They slide beneath my sleep shirt, tracing patterns on my lower back that make me shiver. I'm surrounded, enveloped in their touch, their scent, their warmth.

"Beautiful," Jace murmurs against my lips. "So beautiful."

The word makes me think of my voice—how raspy and uncertain it sounded, how far from beautiful.

As if reading my thoughts, Theo presses a kiss to the nape of my neck. "Your voice is perfect," he says softly. "Just like the rest of you."

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of their touches, their words. Jace's thumb traces my bottom lip, his gaze intense.

"Can you say something else?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "For us?"

The request sends a flutter of nervousness through me.

But the way they're looking at me—with such open admiration, such patient anticipation—makes me want to try. For them. For myself.

I swallow, gathering my courage. My hand rises to my throat, feeling the slight vibration as I form the sound.