Chapter 1: Still Ours
The house was never quiet anymore.
Not with AJ, now sixteen, blaring music in the garage while he rebuilt that dirt bike Mike had found for him. Not with Elijah, ten, practicing dinosaur roars so loud the neighbors probably thought they were sheltering velociraptors. Not with Moses, eight, inventing new ways to climb furniture. And definitely not with Alynna Rose, five years old and already running the house in sparkly boots and a tutu.
Jenna stood in the kitchen with her coffee, watching the chaos like it was a painting she’d waited her whole life to hang. Her hair was shorter now — white-blonde pixie cut, the style she once thought she could never pull off. Now she wore it like a crown.
Mike walked in shirtless, tattoos glinting, hair damp from the shower. He looked exactly the same as the night she met him — except softer around the edges, more at home in himself.
“Your daughter’s negotiating with me,” he said, leaning against the counter. “She says if I buy her a goat, she’ll stop leaving glitter in my boots.”
Jenna smirked. “What’d you say?”
“That I’d rather take my chances with the glitter.”
They laughed, the sound filling the kitchen, blending with the boys’ voices from outside.
For a moment, Jenna let herself breathe. Five years ago, she never thought she’d see this — not just love, but peace.
And yet… something in her chest was restless.
That night, when the kids were finally asleep and the house went quiet, Jenna curled into Mike in their bed.
He kissed her shoulder, lazy and slow. “You’ve been thinking.”
She nodded. “Yeah. About everything. About how far we’ve come. And about how it still feels like there’s more we haven’t touched yet.”
He raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at his lips. “You mean sexually?”
“Not just sexually,” she said — but the heat in her voice betrayed her.
Mike rolled her onto her back, bracing himself over her, blue eyes burning. “You’re not wrong, baby. We’ve only scratched the surface.”
His hand slid down her stomach, teasing the edge of her shorts. She gasped, arching into his touch.
“You trust me?” he whispered.
“Always.”
“Good.” He kissed her hard, his fingers sliding lower. “Because I’m about to show you just how much more there is to reclaim.”
And as Jenna moaned into his mouth, body sparking to life under his hands, she knew one thing for certain:
Their story wasn’t done.
Not even close.
