Chapter 42
Ciel
I'm finally healed—well, mostly. Apart from the dull ache if I stretch too far or the occasional bruise twinge, I'm back to my normal life. Cooking again, cleaning, moving around without being told to "sit, rest, stop."
A baby coos.
I turn, brushing my wet hands on my apron, and glance at the tiny bundle wriggling in the baby carrier on the table.
"My, my, aren't you the cutest, my sweet Nollie," I say, grinning at his gummy little smile.
Golden eyes blink back at me, wide and innocent. My heart just about melts into a puddle right there.
"I still find it weird that you named him after me, you know," Nolan mutters as he walks past us, heading straight for the fridge like always. His voice is casual, but I catch the stiffness under it.
"I think the name is perfect," I reply, leaning down to kiss the baby's soft forehead. His hair is already starting to deepen in color—orange shifting toward scarlet, just like mine did.
He scoffs.
And I chuckle.
Nolan gulps down a glass of water in one go, like he's hoping hydration will save him from this conversation.
"I named him Nolan," I say softly, "because, like Nolan Sr, he was my light. My source of strength."
I glance at little Nollie in the carrier—his tiny fists waving in the air—before stepping closer. Wrapping my arms around Nolan's waist, I rest my cheek against his chest.
"Because little Nolan is named after big Nolan. Big Nolan is everything to me. Always my knight in shining armor." My voice thickens, but I keep going.
"He's also kind. Handsome. Smart. Caring. And he's exactly the type of person I would love my son to grow up into."
I tighten my hold and tilt my head up, golden eyes locking onto his profile.
He looks away quickly, jaw tight, ears burning red.
"Well, when you put it that way, I can't say anything," he mutters, voice low, rougher than usual.
I smile, pressing closer.
"Just… find a different way to call him. It gets confusing." He gestures vaguely at the baby, still refusing to meet my gaze.
"Got it," I say, giving him a bright grin.
He exhales—soft, resigned—before finally hugging me back. Warmth settles over my shoulders, his chin brushing the top of my head. I burrow into his chest, inhaling his scent. It's nostalgic. Safe.
And I mean it. Nolan is my rock. Without him, I don't think there'd even be a me left.
Just then, lavender drifts into the room—heady and grounding. Pheromones.
Jack.
I don't pull away from Nolan. Jack's used to our closeness by now.
"Who's the cutest thing ever?" Jack croons, his voice aimed at the baby in the carrier.
I roll my eyes. Typical.
"Don't worry," Nolan whispers near my ear, so quiet only I can catch it, "I think you're the cutest thing ever."
A giggle escapes me before I can stop it.
And then—heat. A large hand cups the back of my neck, firm but careful, tilting my head up. Jack. He looms above me, his presence filling every corner of the kitchen. His brown eyes pin me in place.
"I think you're cute too," he murmurs.
I stick out my tongue. "I don't want your scraps. Begone."
My tongue is still poking out when Jack's lips press to mine.
I squeak but he doesn't let me retreat. His hand stays firm at the back of my neck, his mouth warm, steady, coaxing instead of demanding.
And damn it, my heart flips like the traitor it is.
"Wow. Basic courtesy," Nolan mutters, pulling away from me in a huff, prying my arms off his waist and stepping back.
The kiss deepens. Jack tilts his head, brushing his tongue against my lower lip until I gasp. He swallows the sound with a low groan, like I've just set him on fire.
For one dizzying second, everything is Jack, his pheremones and heat and the thunder of my pulse.
"—Unbelievable."
The word slices through the haze. Nolan.
I tear back just enough to breathe, still caught in Jack's grip. My lips tingle, my lungs burn, and my brain? Scattered to pieces.
Nolan's eyes are flat, stormy. His jaw ticks as he turns on his heel. "I'm leaving," he mutters, voice clipped.
"Please don't act like you've never seen a kiss before," Jack calls after him.
What comes back is Nolan's muffled grumbling—half curses, half growls—as the door shuts harder than it needs to.
I open my mouth, ready to say something—anything—but Jack's lips crash against mine again before the words can escape.
I think I wanted to say something.
…Well. Whatever.
The kiss gets deeper, Jack's hand firm at the back of my neck as he presses me against the kitchen counter. The cool edge digs into my lower back, but I barely notice.
My fingers curl in his shirt, tugging him closer. He groans low in his chest, the sound vibrating against my lips.
And then—
A soft baby's coo.
The sound is small, innocent, but it's enough to crack the spell. Jack jerks back, breathing hard, his forehead nearly resting against mine as he exhales through clenched teeth.
I can't help it—I giggle. The look of sheer disappointment on his face is too much. He looks like a man robbed of treasure at the last second.
He cuts his gaze at me, dark and smoldering, and it says everything his mouth doesn't: This isn't over.
My laugh only grows, because I know he means it.