I slave over a hot stove, and this is the thanks I get ?

I slave over a hot stove, and this is the thanks I get ?
Amara's POV

The days passed in a blur, each one filled with moments that chipped away at the walls I had built around my heart. Caden, Ryder, and Jaxon were proving themselves in ways I hadn’t expected. They were changing—slowly, steadily—but undeniably.

Every morning, one of them would wake me up with breakfast, though it usually ended up being a playful argument over who would get the honor.

“I made it first,” Caden would grumble, holding out a plate of toast and eggs.

“Yeah, well, I made pancakes,” Ryder would counter, flipping one onto a second plate.

Jaxon, always the wildcard, would slide a cup of coffee in front of me with a lazy smirk. “And I made sure you get caffeine before dealing with these two idiots.”

I’d roll my eyes, but deep down, the warmth of their efforts settled in my chest like a quiet comfort.

Throughout the day, they went out of their way to make sure I felt safe, taken care of—even cherished. Ryder would insist on driving me anywhere I needed to go, opening doors like a gentleman despite my teasing him about it. Jaxon would surprise me with little things—a warm blanket if I fell asleep on the couch, my favorite snacks appearing in the pantry as if by magic. And Caden… he was always close, lingering in doorways, brushing his fingers against mine when he thought I wouldn’t notice. He wasn’t demanding my attention anymore. He was simply there, waiting for me to come to him on my own.

One evening, as the four of us sat in the living room watching a movie, I realized just how much things had changed. The tension that once hung in the air between us had shifted into something softer, something unspoken but understood.

Jaxon sat beside me, casually throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “So, princess,” he drawled, “what’s it like having three incredibly handsome men catering to your every need?”

I shot him a look. “You act like I’m some spoiled queen.”

“You could be,” Ryder mused, tossing popcorn into his mouth. “If you wanted.”

Caden, on my other side, leaned in just slightly, his voice quieter. “Do you like it? Being here with us?”

I hesitated, but then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Their reactions were subtle—Ryder’s shoulders relaxing, Jaxon’s smirk widening, Caden’s fingers brushing mine in silent acknowledgment—but I saw them. Felt them.

And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—this could work.

Later That Night

I was in the kitchen, making tea when Caden walked in, his expression softer than usual. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter watching me.

Finally, he spoke. “You seem happier.”

I glanced at him, pouring hot water into a mug. “I think I am.”

His lips curved slightly. “Good.”

Silence stretched between us, comfortable yet charged. He stepped closer, fingers brushing my wrist as I set the kettle down. My breath caught.

“You know,” he murmured, “I don’t need you to say anything. I just need you to keep letting me be here.”

I looked up at him, at the quiet determination in his golden eyes. And instead of answering, I reached up and gently touched his face, my thumb brushing against his jaw.

He exhaled sharply, his hands settling on my waist, pulling me just a fraction closer. “Amara…”

I didn’t let him finish. Instead, I leaned up and kissed him—slow, deliberate, full of everything I couldn’t put into words.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The warmth of Caden’s lips lingered long after we pulled away. My heart was still racing, my fingers still tingling where they had traced the sharp line of his jaw. He hadn’t said anything, and for once, neither had I.

But the silence between us wasn’t awkward—it was thick with something unspoken, something that had been simmering between us for weeks.

Caden let out a slow breath, his forehead resting against mine for just a moment before he pulled back slightly. His fingers brushed my waist as if memorizing the feel of me before he finally stepped away.

“I should let you sleep,” he murmured, though the reluctance in his voice made it clear he didn’t want to go.

I swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Probably.”

Neither of us moved.

His gaze traced my face, lingering on my lips before he finally exhaled and turned away, running a hand through his hair as he left the kitchen. I stood there for a long time after he was gone, the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.

I woke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet. Blinking against the early morning light, I sat up and stretched, the events of last night replaying in my mind like a dream I wasn’t ready to wake up from.

Pulling on a hoodie over my tank top, I padded barefoot into the kitchen to find Jaxon at the stove, flipping what looked like French toast. Ryder sat at the table, scrolling through his phone, and Caden… he was leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, his golden eyes lifting to meet mine the second I stepped into the room.

Something passed between us in that instant—a silent acknowledgment of what had happened. But before I could even process it, Jaxon was turning around with a smirk.

“Well, well, sleeping beauty emerges,” he teased, waving the spatula. “Hope you’re hungry.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Depends. Is it edible?”

“Hey.” He clutched his chest as if I’d wounded him. “I’ll have you know, I make a mean French toast.”

Ryder snorted. “More like a mediocre one.”

Jaxon flipped him off before placing a plate in front of me. “Ignore him. Try it, and if it sucks, I’ll personally take you out for breakfast.”

I raised a brow. “Tempting. But let’s see if I survive this first.”

I took a bite and, to my surprise, it was… really good.

Jaxon leaned in, watching me expectantly. “Well?”

I chewed thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Not bad. Could use more cinnamon, though.”

Ryder burst out laughing as Jaxon groaned dramatically. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, raking a hand through his messy dark hair. “I slave over a hot stove, and this is the thanks I get?”

Caden, still quiet, pushed a cup of coffee toward me without a word. His fingers brushed mine as I took it, a deliberate touch that sent a shiver up my spine.

I met his gaze again.
The intensity in his eyes made my breath hitch. Last night wasn’t forgotten.

And we both knew it.