Day thirty felt like the house had finally reached the edge of something real. The rain had eased to a soft mist, but the air inside Maple Lane remained thick with everything that had been spoken — and everything that still hung unspoken. Amina had texted the night before: “Dinner tonight. Same time. I need to talk about what happens if you two actually have a baby. Porch if it’s dry enough.”
Elias had barely slept. I woke to find him already watching me, his arm locked tightly around my waist, his body curled possessively against mine. His hazel eyes carried the weight of the conversations that kept getting deeper, but the moment I stirred, his hand slid between my thighs, fingers stroking through the slick remnants he had left inside me.
“I need you,” he murmured, voice low and rough.
