39. Flora

39

FLORA

W inter sunlight streams through the trailer window, casting a golden glow across our bed. I wake cocooned in warmth between Nash and Colt. My heart flutters with anticipation—their wrapped presents, carefully chosen, are waiting under our small tree.

As I shift, Nash’s arm tightens around my waist, and Colt’s breath tickles my neck. They both stir at my movement, their bodies pressing against me, cocooning me in warmth and safety.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to Nash’s lips. His brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas, little bird,” he murmurs back.

Colt’s hand slides up my arm, and I twist to face him. “Merry Christmas,” he says, kissing my lips gently.

The two men exchange a tender kiss over my head, making my heart swell. This is everything I never dared dream of—safety, belonging, unconditional love. The carnival trailer may be small, but it’s more of a home than any foster house ever was.

“I have presents for you both,” I say, unable to contain my excitement.

Nash chuckles at my enthusiasm. “Eager to get up already?”

“The presents can wait,” Colt adds, pulling me closer.

But I’m too excited to stay still. This is my first real Christmas and a chance to give gifts to people I love. “Please? I want to see your faces when you open them.”

Their mock resistance crumbles at my pleading tone. They’ve never been able to deny me anything, not when it brings me joy, and I will wield that new-found superpower every chance I get.

“Alright,” Colt concedes with a smile. “Lead the way.”

I slip from between them, shivering slightly in just my matching crimson bra and panties. The trailer’s living area is chilly despite the small space heater humming in the corner. Nash and Colt follow in their briefs, their muscled forms casting long shadows in the early morning light.

Our Christmas tree sparkles with its ornaments. I drop beside it, reaching for the two carefully wrapped boxes I’ve hidden toward the back. My heart races as I hold them—these matching antique pocket watches are perfect.

“These are for you both,” I say, turning to present one to each of them. The boxes are wrapped in deep blue paper with silver ribbons—Nash’s favorite colors. My hands tremble slightly as I hold them out.

I watch them unwrap their gifts, my fingers twisting in my lap. The silver watches gleam in the morning light as they lift them from their boxes. My heart skips when I see their expressions soften.

“Turn them over,” I whisper.

They flip the watches in perfect sync. On the back of each, I had the shop engrave their initials intertwined with mine—a permanent token of our connection.

“Flora...” Nash’s voice is thick with emotion as he traces the delicate script.

“I saw them in this little antique shop,” I explain. “They’re a matched set, and I just knew they were meant for you.”

Colt’s ice-blue eyes meet mine, filled with a tenderness that takes my breath away. “They’re perfect, angel.”

“Like you,” Nash adds, pulling me into his arms.

I nestle against his chest as Colt moves behind me, surrounding me in their warmth. The watches catch the light between us, their synchronized ticking a steady rhythm like three hearts beating as one.

“I wanted something that showed how we belong together,” I say softly. “How you two were always meant to be together, and somehow, I was blessed to fit between you.”

Nash’s lips brush my temple. “You didn’t just fit, little bird. You completed us.”

“These must have cost a fortune,” Colt murmurs, his hand sliding down my arm.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about that. They were worth every penny to see your faces right now.”

I watch Nash reach under the tree, pulling out a small velvet box. My heart skips—after the beautiful coat they gave me yesterday, I hadn’t expected anything else.

“This is something special, little bird,” Nash says, his eyes warm as he hands me the box. “Something to show you’ll always be ours.”

Colt’s hand rests on my lower back as I carefully open the lid. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lies a delicate silver chain with three interlinked circles. The middle circle holds a small diamond that catches the morning light.

“The three circles represent us,” Colt explains softly. “Forever linked, forever protecting each other.”

My vision blurs with tears as I lift the necklace. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned, but more than that, it’s a symbol of everything they mean to me—of how they saved, loved, and helped make me whole.

“We had it custom-made,” Nash adds, taking the necklace from my fingers. He moves behind me, brushing my hair to fasten it around my neck. The silver circles rest just below my collarbone, cool against my skin.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, touching the circles with reverent fingers. “I love it so much.”

“Like we love you,” Colt says, pulling me into his arms. Nash wraps his arms around us, and I’m enveloped in their warmth, strength, and devotion.

The necklace represents everything we are—three pieces forming something unbreakable when joined together. As I stand between them, wearing their gift against my heart, I know I’ll never be alone again.

I rest my head against Nash’s chest, still overwhelmed by the beauty of their gift when my stomach growls loudly. Nash’s chest rumbles with laughter.

“Sounds like someone needs breakfast,” he says, kissing my temple.

“The Christmas feast isn’t until later,” Colt adds, his hand sliding down my back. “And Ty always goes all out in the main tent.”

“Really?” I lift my head, curiosity piqued. Despite living at the carnival for a few weeks, I still need to learn more about their traditions.

“It’s quite the sight,” Nash says. “Ty sets up this massive table down the center of the main tent. Everyone comes together—all the performers, vendors, crew. It’s like...”

“A big misfit family dinner,” Colt finishes, smiling. “No one here has a normal family background, so we’ve made our own.”

My heart swells at the thought. After years of painful Christmases with my foster families, the idea of sharing a meal with people who truly care about each other feels magical.

“Come on,” Nash says, tugging me toward our small kitchen area. “Let’s get some food in you first. Can’t have you fainting from hunger before your first carnival Christmas dinner.”

I follow him willingly, watching as he and Colt move around each other with practiced ease, pulling out eggs and bacon. The necklace rests cool against my skin, a beautiful reminder that I belong with them in this unconventionally perfect family.

“My first of many,” I say softly, touching the three circles at my throat.

Both men pause their breakfast preparations to look at me, their eyes full of love and promise.

“Many, many more,” Colt agrees, pulling me into a quick kiss before returning to the stove.

I move to the coffee maker, knowing exactly how they both take their morning brew. It’s funny how quickly these little details become second nature. Nash likes his with just a splash of cream, while Colt takes his black with two sugars.

My hands work on autopilot, measuring the grounds into the filter. The familiar scent fills our small kitchen as it begins to percolate. Behind me, the sizzle of bacon and quiet domestic sounds of my men moving around the cramped space make my chest tight with emotion.

The coffee maker gurgles its last drops as I pour cream into Nash’s mug. It seems like a simple task, but it means everything. These aren’t cruel masters I’m serving out of fear—they’re my partners, my protectors, my loves. I drop two sugar cubes into Colt’s cup, watching them dissolve in the dark liquid.

Steam rises from the mugs, and I can’t help but smile at how even a simple domestic act brings such joy; who knew? Who would have thought I’d find such peace in a carnival trailer between two men who most people consider dangerous? But they’ve never been gentle with me, even when I ask them not to be.