Chapter 235
Kara
Blake carried me up the stairs, his arms locked tight around me like he was afraid I'd dissolve if he loosened his grip even slightly. Through the bond, I felt the tremor running through all three of them—not physical weakness, but the aftershock of watching me face down a decade of trauma and somehow come out standing.
"I can walk," I murmured against his chest, though honestly I wasn't sure that was true. My legs felt like water.
"Fuck that." Blake's voice was rough. "Let me do this, baby. Let me—just let me carry you."
The raw need in his tone stopped my protest. This wasn't about me being weak. This was about him needing to do something, to take care of me in some tangible way after watching me handle everything myself downstairs.
So I curled into his chest and let him.
Asher held the door to our suite open, his ice-blue eyes tracking every micro-expression on my face. Looking for cracks, for breaks, for signs I was about to shatter. Cole slipped in ahead of us, already moving toward the ensuite bathroom.
"Water's running," he called back. "Not too hot—don't want to spike your blood pressure. And I'm adding the lavender oil Dr. Martinez recommended for stress relief."
"She doesn't need a bath," Blake argued, settling onto the bed with me still in his lap. "She needs to rest. Sleep. Process."
"She needs whatever she says she needs," Asher corrected, but his hand found my ankle, thumb stroking the bone there like he couldn't help touching me. "Kara? What do you want?"
What did I want? The question felt too big, too complicated. I wanted my parents back. I wanted the last ten years erased. I wanted to not feel like I was constantly bracing for the next blow. I wanted—
"I want to stop thinking," I admitted quietly. "Just for a little while. I want my brain to shut up."
"Bath it is," Cole decided, appearing in the doorway. "Come on, gorgeous. Let's get you in the water."
Blake made a possessive sound but loosened his hold when I shifted. Cole met me halfway, sliding an arm around my waist as I stood on legs that were steadier than I'd expected.
"We're staying," Blake announced, already toeing off his shoes.
"Obviously," Asher agreed, following us toward the bathroom.
I should probably protest. Maintain some boundary, some privacy. But the thought of being alone right now made my chest tight with panic I didn't want to examine.
"Okay," I said simply.
The bathroom was already filling with steam, the massive soaking tub—big enough for four, I'd noticed with embarrassment the first time I saw it—half full of water that smelled like lavender and something else. Something clean and sharp.
"Eucalyptus," Cole explained, catching my questioning look. "Helps with respiratory stress. You were breathing too fast downstairs."
Of course he'd noticed. Of course he'd catalogued my physical responses and planned accordingly. It should feel invasive. Instead, it just felt... safe.
Blake's hands found the hem of my sweater—one of theirs, I couldn't remember whose—and paused. "Can I?"
The fact that he asked, that they all still asked despite the mate bond and the pregnancy and everything else, made my throat tight.
I nodded.
He pulled the sweater over my head with exquisite care, like I was made of spun glass. Cole knelt to ease off my leggings, his mint scent wrapping around me in cool waves. Asher stood behind me, fingers finding the clasp of my bra with practiced efficiency.
They'd undressed me before. Multiple times. But this felt different. Less about desire—though I could feel that humming through the bond, carefully banked—and more about care. About stripping away the armor I'd worn downstairs until I was just... me.
Vulnerable. Exhausted. Theirs.
Blake lifted me into the tub before I could process that last thought. The water was perfect—hot enough to make my muscles unclench, cool enough I didn't feel faint. I sank down with a sigh that was almost embarrassing in its relief.
"Scoot forward," Asher instructed, already stripping off his shirt.
I obeyed without thinking, making room as he climbed in behind me. His legs bracketed mine, chest solid against my back as he pulled me against him. His ebony-and-tobacco scent mingled with the lavender, somehow making both sharper.
Blake kicked off his jeans and slid in on my right, his fire-and-leather cutting through the steam. Cole took my left, still fully clothed until Blake growled at him.
"You're not getting in wearing jeans, asshole."
"I was trying to be respectful," Cole protested, but he was already standing, stripping efficiently before rejoining us.
The tub that had seemed enormous suddenly felt intimate. Crowded in the best way. Blake's hand found my thigh under the water, just holding. Cole's fingers threaded through mine. Asher's arms wrapped around my waist, careful to avoid too much pressure on my abdomen.
"This okay?" Asher murmured against my ear. "Too much?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. It was perfect. Overwhelming and perfect.
For a while, nobody spoke. The only sounds were water lapping against tile, the quiet rhythm of our breathing gradually synchronizing. Through the bond, I felt them settling, the jagged edges of their protective fury smoothing into something more bearable.
"I'm proud of you," Cole said finally, his voice soft in the steam-thick air. "What you did down there—setting boundaries, offering chances without compromising yourself—that took incredible strength."
"It didn't feel strong," I admitted. "It felt like I was barely holding it together."
"That's what strength looks like," Blake countered. "Doing the hard thing even when you're scared. Even when every instinct says to run or fight or shut down completely."
Asher's thumb traced small circles on my hip, just above the waterline. "You gave them more grace than they deserved. Than any of us deserved."
"I didn't do it for you," I said, then winced at how harsh that sounded. "I mean—I did it for me. For the babies. For the person I want to be, not the person trauma tried to make me."
"I know," Asher said quietly. "That's what makes it remarkable. You're not performing forgiveness for our benefit. You're actively choosing the kind of life you want to build."
Through the bond, I felt his wonder, his awe, his bone-deep certainty that I was better than anything he'd ever deserved. It made my eyes sting.
"Stop that," I whispered.
"Stop what?"
"Putting me on a pedestal. I'm not—I'm just trying to survive without becoming bitter. That's not noble, it's self-preservation."
Blake snorted. "Baby, most people who go through what you did become bitter. Angry. Cruel. The fact that you're fighting not to—that's everything."
I wanted to argue, but I was too tired. Too wrung out from the emotional gauntlet downstairs. Instead, I let myself sink deeper into Asher's embrace, let Blake's hand on my thigh anchor me, let Cole's fingers tangled with mine remind me I wasn't alone.
"The wedding planning," I said after a moment, because I needed to think about something forward-looking instead of backward-dwelling. "Sophia and Emma want to finalize the guest list. And the thing with Anna and Sol—"
"Is handled," Asher interrupted gently. "We'll make it work. Security protocols, separate roles, whatever you need to feel comfortable having them there."
"You really hate the idea," I observed, feeling the tension in his chest.
"I really hate that they were part of what hurt you," he corrected. "But I also trust your judgment. If you say they've earned a second chance, I believe you."
"Even though it scares the shit out of you."
"Especially because it scares the shit out of me." His arms tightened fractionally. "Learning to trust your choices even when they conflict with my protective instincts—that's what being a good mate looks like. I'm still figuring it out, but I'm trying."
God, they were all trying so hard. It would be easier if they were still the careless boys who'd made my childhood hell. Then I could stay angry, stay armored, stay safe behind walls they'd helped me build.
But they weren't those boys anymore. And I wasn't that helpless child.
"I love you," I said, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them. "All three of you. Even when you're overprotective and controlling and making me insane, I love you."
The bond exploded with emotion—Blake's fierce joy, Cole's tender devotion, Asher's overwhelming relief. Like they'd been holding their breath waiting to hear it again, needing the reassurance that I still meant it.
"Say it again," Blake demanded, his voice rough.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, you demanding asshole."
His laugh was pure delight. "There's my girl."
Cole lifted our joined hands, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "I love you too. So much it terrifies me sometimes."
"Good," I said, surprising myself. "You should be a little terrified. Means you know what you have to lose."
Asher's lips found the curve of my neck, just below his mate mark. "We know exactly what we have to lose. And we're never making that mistake again."