Page 92 of Scout

I know that look. I’ve worn that look.

And I wonder, quietly, if today is the day he lets it soften..

Kendrix keeps going. “This isn’t about the way you made us feel in Mount Rainier or how you fit perfectly in a memory. It’s not about making each other jealous or playing house. It’s about you. Here. In our lives. For real.”

His voice doesn’t shake, but mine almost does when I add, “We want the messy version. The real one. The one with Juniper and dishes in the sink and weird Toaster Judgment Day mornings. We wantyou, Scout. Not the idea of you.”

Scout’s mouth parts slightly, like he’s going to deflect, joke, push away.

But he doesn’t.

He swallows. Then says, “You really mean that?”

“We do,” I say. “We’ve had time to think. To strip this down to the bones. And the bones are still yours.”

Kendrix nods. “We’re choosing you. Not as an escape. Not as a placeholder. Asours. If you want that.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy—it’s reverent.

Scout’s eyes glisten, and I don’t know if he even notices the way he eases back—just a little—against the arms Kendrix and I have crossed behind him. Like he’s testing the support and finding it real. Findingusreal.

He doesn’t sayI love you.Not yet. But what he does say feels just as big.

“I think I’m choosing you, too.”

It knocks the air out of my chest in the best way—soft, stunned, and full of something I haven’t let myself feel in a long time.

32

Scout

“Come with me,”I say, barely more than a whisper.

It’s not a question. It’s not a plea. But something in my voice still cracks around the edges.

Xavier and Kendrix don’t hesitate.

They follow me down the hallway as if they belong here. As if they know how much it costs me to ask for something out loud.

The moment we step into my room, something shifts. No flickering candles. No playlist. Just the low hum of the city outside and the soft creak of the door behind us.

I turn around and they’re there—both of them. Eyes soft. Shoulders relaxed. Waiting on me, not pressing.

I cross the space first.

I kiss Xavier, slow and sure, my hands finding the back of his neck. He exhales into my mouth as though he’s been holding that breath for weeks. Maybe we all have.

Kendrix steps in close behind me, his chest brushing my back, his hands skating down my arms, grounding me in place. Ilean into it—into both of them—because my body already knows how to be held this way.

“You okay?” Xavier murmurs against my lips.

“Yeah.” I nod. “More than.”

It’s all motion after that.

Fingers fumbling with buttons. Soft laughter when someone bumps into the bed frame. A curse when I can’t get my damn sock off. But the tension isn’t awkward. It’s warm. Familiar. We’ve done this before.

But this time, it’s different.