Page 126 of Jax & Knox

Owen looks up and sees me standing there. His face lights up. "Mom! You're awake!"

"Good morning, sweet boy," I say, walking into the kitchen.

He jumps up and runs over, wrapping his arms around my waist. He's gotten so tall. In another year or two, he'll be taller than me.

"We're making pancakes," he announces proudly. "I helped mix the batter."

"Did you?" I ask, ruffling his dark curls.

"Yep. Dad said I did a good job."

Knox glances over his shoulder and smirks. "He did. Kid's got skills."

Jax stands and walks over, Elizabeth still clinging to his back like a baby monkey. He leans down and kisses me, soft and slow and full of promise.

"Morning, baby," he murmurs against my lips.

"Morning," I say, smiling.

Maisie reaches for me from the counter, and Knox hands her over. She immediately buries her face in my neck, her little arms wrapping around me.

"Mama," she says sleepily.

"Hi, sweet girl," I whisper, kissing her head.

Knox steps closer and cups my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "You sleep okay?"

"Better than okay," I say honestly.

He leans down and kisses me too, deeper than Jax's, more possessive.

When he pulls back, his hazel eyes are warm. "Good."

Breakfast is chaos in the best way.

The kids are loud and messy and full of energy. Syrup gets everywhere. Emmett spills his juice. Olive insists on cutting her own pancakes even though she's not quite coordinated enough yet. Owen tells a story about something that happened at school, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement.

And through it all, Jax and Knox are right there.

Patient. Present. Loving.

I watch them with our children, and my chest tightens.

Five years ago, I never could have imagined this.

Hell, seven years ago, I was running for my life in a beater car, convinced I'd never be safe again.

Now?

Now I'm sitting at a table in a house we own, surrounded by children we made together, watching the two men I love more than anything be the fathers I always hoped they'd be.

"Mom, can we go to the park later?" Owen asks.

"Maybe," I say. "We'll see."

"Please?" Olive chimes in.

"We'll talk about it after breakfast," Knox says, his tone leaving no room for argument.