37. Nash

37

NASH

C olt’s face lights up as we spot the perfect tree at the lot—not too tall to fit in our trailer, but full and green with that classic Christmas shape. We haven’t bothered with a tree in years, but this year feels different. Flora deserves a proper Christmas.

“This one,” we say in unison, making us both laugh. The lot owner helps us secure it to the top of the van while Colt loads boxes of ornaments and lights into the back. I insisted on getting everything new—shiny balls in red and gold, tinsel, a proper tree skirt, and a delicate angel for the top.

The drive back is tense with anticipation. I keep checking my phone, making sure Flora hasn’t returned early from her shopping trip with Aurora. Colt drums his fingers on the steering wheel, probably as anxious as I am to set everything up before she returns.

When we arrive, our trailer is mercifully empty. We maneuver the tree through the door, knocking over a lamp. Colt rights it while I adjust the tree stand, ensuring it’s perfectly straight. The fresh pine scent fills our small space, returning memories of childhood Christmases I thought I’d forgotten.

“Should we start decorating?” Colt asks, already opening one of the ornament boxes.

I shake my head. “Let’s wait for our little bird. She should help with that part.”

While Colt arranges the boxes of decorations around the tree, I head to the kitchen. Something is comforting about the ritual of baking—measuring flour, creaming butter, and sugar, the familiar motions grounding me as I prepare a batch of sugar cookies. I found my grandmother’s recipe tucked away in an old notebook, and somehow, it feels right to share this piece of my past with my new family.

The cookie dough chills in the fridge while I start on some hot chocolate—the real kind, with melted chocolate and cream, not that powdered stuff. The trailer fills with warmth and sweet smells as we wait for Flora to return home.

I’m stirring the hot chocolate when I hear the door open, followed by Flora’s gasp of surprise. Colt immediately moves to help her with the shopping bags weighing her down.

“Let me take those,” he says, gathering them from her arms.

I watch from the kitchen as they disappear into the bedroom with her purchases. When they return, Flora’s eyes fix on the tree in the corner.

“You two have been busy,” she says, moving closer to inspect it. Her fingers brush against one of the branches.

“We wanted to wait for you before decorating,” I tell her, pouring the hot chocolate into three mugs. “Thought you might want to help with that part.”

The way her face lights up makes my chest tight. It’s such a simple thing—a Christmas tree—but the joy in her expression tells me we made the right choice. I never knew creating holiday memories could mean so much until I saw that look on her face.

“I didn’t think you two were the Christmas tree type,” Flora says.

I set down the mugs of hot chocolate and move closer. “We aren’t. But this year is different.”

“We wanted to give you something special,” Colt adds, his hand finding the small of her back. “The Christmas you deserve.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and before I can react, she launches herself into my arms. I catch her, holding her tight against my chest as she trembles. Her tears soak into my shirt, but I don’t care. I stroke her hair, breathing in her scent, while Colt wraps his arms around us from behind her.

“You both...” she chokes out between sobs. “I never had... nobody ever...”

I press my lips to the top of her head, unable to find the right words to express how much she means to us and how desperately we want to give her everything she’s been denied.

I pull back slightly, keeping one arm around Flora while reaching for Colt’s hand with my other. Her tears have slowed, but the raw emotion in her voice makes my chest ache.

“I love you both so fucking much,” she whispers.

Colt’s hand tightens around mine. “You saved us, angel,” he says, his voice rough. “Before you, we were just going through the motions. Living half-lives.”

“You brought light into our darkness, little bird.” I press my lips to her temple. “You made us whole in ways we didn’t know we were broken.”

Flora turns her face up to look at us both, her eyes shining. “You’re my home,” she says. “My family. My everything.”

“And you’re our miracle,” Colt murmurs, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek.

I draw them closer, overwhelmed by my feelings for them. “You healed parts of us we thought were beyond repair, Flora. You gave us permission to love each other and you, to be who we truly are.”

I watch as Colt cups Flora’s face in his hands. “I love you, Flora,” he says, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss that makes my heart clench.

When he pulls back, his eyes find mine. Something shifts in his expression—vulnerability and determination. “And I love you, Nash,” he breathes before capturing my mouth with his. The kiss differs from our previous ones—less desperate, more meaningful. My chest tightens with emotions.

Flora watches us tearfully, and I’m struck by how much I feel for them both. The words I never thought I’d say rise, demanding to be spoken.

“Little bird,” I whisper, drawing her close. “I didn’t think I was capable of love. Didn’t think I deserved it. But you changed everything.” I kiss her softly, pouring all my feelings into the contact. “I love you.”

Turning to Colt, I see the same overwhelming emotion in his eyes. “And you—you’ve been my anchor for so long. I love you, Colt. Have for years.”

Flora’s eyes glint with understanding as she reaches for one of the scattered boxes, removing a shiny gold ornament. “I think it’s time we started decorating.” Her voice is steady, but I sense the undercurrent of emotion.

“Let’s get to it.” I move to take my mug of hot chocolate but stop, needing to feel connected to Colt right now, especially as the implications of what we’ve just confessed hang heavy between us.

I need to feel his skin and remind myself that we’re still here, still okay, together after revealing our deepest truths. I walk over to him, reaching out to touch his chest, and he immediately tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer.

“I love you,” he whispers against my lips before kissing me deeply. My body reacts instantly, every nerve ending igniting as it always does when his mouth is on mine. This kiss is different, too—not fevered and desperate like before, but slow and deep, conveying everything we can’t say. My hands roam his chest and back as our tongues tangle, reveling in the taste and feel of each other.

Flora’s soft voice interrupts us. “Can I...?”

I pull back from Colt, reaching for her as she steps forward, pressing a soft kiss to Colt’s lips, then mine. My arms find their way around her, kissing her back, pouring all the love I feel for her into it.

Colt clears his throat, breaking the spell. “Why don’t you hang that up?” He suggests signaling to the ornament she’s still clutching.

Flora pulls back and nods, walking over to the tree. Watching her hang the first ornament—a symbol of our new beginning.

Colt’s hand on my shoulder snaps me out of my thoughts. “I think we should be doing this naked.”

A rush of want runs through me as I meet his gaze. “I think you’re right.”

Flora turns as I start unbuttoning her shirt. Her cheeks are flushed, but her eyes shine with need. “You two,” she breathes, stepping closer and touching our chests.

Colt’s hands tangle in her hair, guiding her toward him, and she moves willingly. I reach out, touching her bare shoulder, and she makes a soft sound, turning to kiss my palm.

My heart races as I start to unbutton her jeans. Colt pulls her tank top off, baring her breasts, and her breath catches as we both caress and worship her body, marking her as ours.

Flora arches into our touch, moaning softly as Colt traces patterns on her skin with his tongue while I kiss a trail down her neck, nipping at her sensitive skin. She’s perfect, offering herself to us, trusting us with her pleasure.

Colt moves to kiss me. Our tongues tangle in a desperate kiss as Flora’s hands roam our bodies, touching and exploring.

I pull away from Colt, needing more. His shirt is already open, revealing his toned chest, and I push it off his shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoos with my fingertips. His breath hitches as I lean down, my tongue swiping his nipple before I take it into my mouth, sucking gently.

“Fuck,” he groans, tangling a hand in my hair, keeping me close.

Flora’s fingers work the button of Colt’s jeans, revealing his straining erection beneath.

I slip behind her, kissing her bare shoulder while she wraps her hand around Colt’s cock. Her fingers pump him in a steady rhythm, her thumb sweeping over the sensitive tip, drawing a deep groan from his lips. I suck lightly on her earlobe, tasting the salt of her skin, savoring the way she moves.

Colt reaches between her legs, his fingers teasing her folds, making her gasp. “Fuck, she’s so wet,” he murmurs.

I mouth my way down her neck, nipping at her pulse point while my hands settle on her hips. She’s moving with the rhythm of Colt’s hand, pushing back into my touch.

“Too many clothes,” Colt growls, his voice laced with desperation. “Bedroom.”

Flora moans her agreement, her head falling back against my shoulder as Colt’s fingers slide deeper.

Somehow, we reach the bedroom, a tangle of limbs and hunger. We sink onto the bed, and Colt rolls so Flora is beneath him, pinned by his gaze. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of her body, his mouth following the path.

I move to the edge of the bed, wanting to see everything—to burn this image into my memory forever. Colt’s head dips, his tongue swirling over Flora’s clit, making her cry out. Her hips buck, seeking more pressure, and Colt obliges, devouring her with eager strokes of his tongue.

The sexual tension in the room is almost suffocating, but I can’t look away. Flora’s fingers twist in Colt’s hair as he feasts on her, his hands gripping her thighs. “Yes,” she gasps, her body arching. “Please, don’t stop.”

The way Flora moves against his mouth—soft, pleading sounds escaping her throat—has me rock hard.

Colt pulls back, his lips swollen and glistening, a testament to his devotion to Flora’s pleasure. “Get over here,” he says, voice thick with desire. “Show me what that tongue can do.”

My cock twitches at the sultry tone in his voice, the filthy command he offers so effortlessly. I groan in response, moving to position myself behind Colt.

He’s on his hands and knees, his ass presented to me, waiting. I sink to my knees behind him, my breath catching at the sight before me. His cheeks are clenched, his muscled back rippling as he leans forward, holding himself up with one arm while he eats Flora’s pussy.

I lean in, my nose nuzzling the crack of his ass, inhaling the musky scent of him, the taste of his skin. My tongue teases the sensitive pucker, lapping at him, eliciting a soft moan from Colt. I press my mouth to the tight ring of muscle, circling the tip of my tongue around it before pressing forward, breaching him with a slow, torturous motion that makes us both groan.

Colt shifts, lifting his hips slightly to grant me better access. “That’s it, such a good boy. Eat my ass.”

The filthy words spill from his lips so naturally, so perfectly in tune with the decadent scene before us.

I swirl my tongue around his rim, teasing the sensitive flesh before plunging deeper, fucking him with my tongue while my hands grip his hips, holding him steady. He moans around Flora’s clit, his shoulders tensing as he struggles to remain focused on her pleasure.

Beneath me, Colt is thrusting back onto my tongue, meeting each swirl and flick of my tongue with his impatient movements. The sounds of our pleasure fill the room—wet, sloppy noises of oral sex blending with our harsh breaths.

Flora’s hands tangle in Colt’s hair, holding him close, her hips moving with the rhythm he sets.

This Christmas marks the beginning of something extraordinary. Our first real holiday as a family—because that’s what we are now. A dirty family who love each other so fucking much.

Love.

The word used to feel foreign, dangerous even. Now, it feels like coming home.