Mya sat at the café table long after the initial swell of tears had subsided, her hand still pressed over the test results like the paper might vanish if she let go. The numbers were burned into her memory already—99.9998%—but she couldn’t seem to stop glancing back at them, as if reassurance were something she had to drink in again and again.
The Cross brothers watched her in silence, each in their own way. Casey couldn’t stop smiling, restless in his seat like a boy on Christmas morning. Cameron leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, his expression open and warm. Adrian sat straighter, hands folded, his sharp eyes softening only when they rested on her. And Alexander—the anchor, the unshakable one—watched her like a storm-worn captain who’d finally spotted the lighthouse he’d been
