Page 146 of The Risk Taker

Isabella’s the first to find her voice. “They’re not… together, are they?” she asks, her eyebrows lifting. “I mean… theycan’tbe. Right?”

Ryan exhales, shaking his head. “Okay. I must be blind, because how the hell did I not notice Logan and Nathan, and now those two.”

Austin chuckles. “I fucking knew it. You guys owe me ten bucks.”

Ryan lets out a scoff. “Get fucked. I never made that bet. It was obvious they would eventually fuck.”

“Either that or kill each other,” Austin adds with a laugh. “Although, now that I’m thinking about it… he really could’ve gone to murder her and we’re all just assuming they’re hooking up.”

I take a long sip of my drink because nope, absolutely not touching that. Cole kept my secret without question. I’m sure as hell keeping his.

Nathan shifts beside me, his thigh pressing against mine. I glance at him and nudge his leg with mine, and he nudges back. The tiniest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and my chest goes all warm and fuzzy.

Everyone eventually eases back into their conversations, but I’m too busy watching my boyfriend. Hot as hell, annoyingly talented, and sitting right beside me like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

And it kind of is now.

He leans into me without thinking, his fingers still loosely tangled with mine, and I feel that familiar tug in my chest.

I’ve wanted a family for so long—kept chasing it in all the wrong places, hoping something temporary would stick. And while I’ve had pieces, flashes of it, this right here… this feels like mine.

These guys are loud, messy, and annoying as fuck sometimes.

But they’re perfect because they accept me for who I am.Heaccepts me for who I am and loves me for it.

I’ve spent a long time feeling like I was always just passing through. Someone fun for a night, someone loud in a room, someone people liked in small doses. But this guy? This beautiful, complicated, stubborn-as-hell guy beside me?

He chose me.

And I choose him right back.

I press a kiss to Nathan’s hair and he smiles against my shoulder.

Yeah.

Feels like a pretty damn perfect ending to me.

39

EPILOGUE

NATHAN

Logan’s wearing my hoodie again.

The hem rides up just enough when he leans against the counter and pours coffee into his chipped “Rookie” mug. He refuses to use anything else—even though it’s stained and probably radioactive at this point.

I used to think he wasn’t sentimental. Turns out, my husband is obsessed with me and gets emotionally attached to mugs.

I point my pencil at him. “You know that’s mine, right?”

He just lifts the mug to his lips and sips, shooting me a wink. “Looks better on me.”

I scoff. “Debatable.”

Alright, fine. He’s right. I hate how well he pulls it off. How ridiculously hot he looks in anything. Even if it’s my hoodie and some boxers that cling to his ass.

He looks so distracting, and I’m supposed to be concentrating.