The morning was soft.
Taylor woke between warmth and strength—Jax’s arm heavy across her waist, Ghost’s breath still deep and even behind her. Their presence wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t confusing.
It was grounding.
She blinked against the sunlight that filtered in through the curtain edges, unsure how long she’d been asleep but certain of one thing—last night wasn’t a mistake. It hadn’t broken anything.
It had simply... shifted something.
Carefully, she slipped out of bed, mindful of both bodies that still radiated heat behind her. Her skin ached in places she hadn’t expected, and her lips were still tender from too many kisses. But she didn’t feel used. Or fragile.
She felt known.
Taylor padded to the bathroom, took her time with her morning routine—brushed out her hair, slipped
