I get a message from the personnel department at work. They’re implementing a new, use-it-or-lose-it policy for time off. Anyone who has accrued but unused days is encouraged to take off this final week of the year.

More time with the twins? A whole ten days, uninterrupted by work or school?

Yes, please.

The roads are too icy to go on bike rides, but we cook for each other, play card games and board games and endless bed games. The guys do their time at the bar, and I go with them, getting further acquainted with the regular clientele and the Brimstone Friars.

It’s so easy to be with the twins, so effortless. I can almost believe a life with them would be possible. Especially if I don’t think about my family.

The brothers haven’t mentioned moving in together again, but I can feel it, the unspoken topic that lies in the background of our every conversation. And I still don’t know what to tell them.

On New Year’s Day, we go sledding in the hills on the edge of town. It’s the most fun I’ve had outside a bedroom in years, and I shriek with laughter even when I tumble off my disc and land in a snowdrift. We go home to have the delicious stew that’s been simmering, followed by a romp in bed.

Only it’s not a romp. The brothers are slow and tender with me, so much so that I have to block off my emotions or I’ll be crying the whole time. This isn’t just sex.

It feels like making love.

Just a few more days, and it’ll be time to go back to work. Time to return to my MBA program.

Time to decide.

Except for Kendra, I’ve been avoiding my relatives. It still feels to me like I can have one life or the other, my biological family or my motorcycle one, but not both.

Maybe, I tell myself desperately, I can split my time between them. Keep my two worlds separate and unaware of each other.

But that’s cowardly, and I know it. I don’t ever want Jake and Deke to think I’m ashamed of them, like they’re my dirty little secret.

I just dread the thought of dealing with my family. So I keep hiding from them.

* * *

The week I go back to work, missing the brothers feels like there’s a hole in my chest the size of a bowling ball. It takes a lifetime of discipline to make myself focus on my job.

I can’t bear to return to business as usual, and it wouldn’t be right even if I could. Instead, I spend the week treating myself and my job as a case study.

Trying to be as dispassionate as possible, I ask myself: Do I enjoy this for its own sake? What if I had a different family, one with different priorities? If I had no father to impress, no appearances to keep up, no standard of living to uphold, would I get up every morning eager to head to the office?

By the end of the week, I have my answers. Working in finance is … okay. I’m good enough at it that it’s not completely tedious.

But it doesn’t feel like I’m fulfilling my life’s purpose, or making a difference in the world. Like I’m doing something that really matters. If not for my family, it’s not the path I would have chosen.

When it’s time to sign up and pay the fees for the next semester of my MBA program … I don’t. It’s a passive decision, but I know before long its repercussions will echo through my life. Someone in my family — probably one of my parents — will ask me how my classes are going.

And then everything will hit the fan.

Late that night, lying in bed, I tell the twins. About my job, my doubts, my assessment … my parents. And my decision.

“I’m such a coward,” I finish. “I’ve been avoiding my family for weeks because I know they’ll be disappointed in me.”

Jake’s finger strokes gently down my arm. “There’s a word,” he says thoughtfully, “for someone who does what they need to, even though it’s scary. Pretty sure ‘coward’ isn’t it.”

Deke, on my other side, is even more direct. “Proud of you, Tara.”

I blink back tears. “Thanks, guys.”

“Have any thoughts about what you want to do instead?” Jake asks.

I do have thoughts about that. Or one thought, rather. The germ of an idea that began weeks ago, at Thanksgiving, and has been growing quietly but steadily ever since.

Except it doesn’t feel like it’s growing in my head. It feels like it’s taken root in my heart.

“I think …” I stop and swallow. This is the first time I’ve said it out loud to anybody; not even Megan and Zoe know. “I think maybe I’d like to work with kids. Teenagers, like my sister, but who don’t have the advantages she does. Something like school counseling or social work.”

“You’d be good at that,” Deke says without hesitation.

“You think so?”

“You’ve got the heart for it,” Jake says. “And the spine. You’re one of the strongest women we know.”

My head goes back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match. “Me?”

Before I can tell them they’re crazy, Deke’s hand squeezes my arm gently. “I think your family’s done a number on your head, darlin’, and you don’t see yourself like you really are.”

“I just got done telling you I’ve spent years trying to be someone I’m not to earn my family’s approval.”

“Human nature, to want that from your parents. But Jake and I, we know people who’ve spent their entire lives — sixty, seventy years’ worth — on that merry-go-round, and never once had the strength or the courage to see it for what it was and climb off.”

Before I can respond to that, Jake chimes in. “And not to put too fine a point on it, sugar. But most women can’t handle Deke or me, let alone both of us at once.”

I shake my head. “What is there to ‘handle’ about men who respect me, take care of me, treat me like a princess without ever being overprotective, and give me endless pleasure? Do you not understand how wonderful you are?”

Two sets of deep blue eyes get warm, and I know we’re about to have the move-in-with-us talk again. But just then, my phone rings. Deke snags it off the nightstand and hands it to me.

I look at the display, and my heart skips a beat. “It’s Brock,” I tell them breathlessly. “Brock, hi. Is the baby coming? Okay, which hospital? Right. We’ll get there as fast as we can.”

The hospital is on the other side of town, close to the Beast Brothers’ ranch, so it takes us a while to get there after we hastily clean up and dress. We go into the maternity ward just as Zoe comes out, Alex and Lucas with her. We give each other wide-eyed smiles — we’re honorary aunties! — but since it’s the middle of the night, we keep things quiet and don’t stop to chat.

When a nurse shows us into Megan’s room, I stop dead at the sight of not one, but two bundles tucked against her. “Oh my gosh, you had twins! Of course you did! Can I hold them?”

A smiling Brock makes way at his side of the bed, and I ease down onto the chair next to Megan and carefully lift one baby into my arms. “Hello, precious,” I say softly. “I’m very glad to meet you.”

“No names yet,” Megan says. She’s tired but radiant. “We’ll give them a few days to tell us who they are.”

“Both boys?” I ask, noting the matching blue blankets.

“Yes.”

“Naturally.” We grin at each other, and I go back to fussing over the baby. I could sit and hold him forever, but I’m sure his parents want their turn, and Megan needs her rest, so after a few moments I exchange him for his brother.

“Hey there, little guy.” I stroke a finger over his satiny-soft cheek, and only then glance up to find four sets of male eyes on me. Cody and Brock are smiling indulgently at me.

Jake and Deke have entirely different expressions on their faces. I go still. And then, as if they’ve been waiting for exactly this moment, my ovaries explode with baby lust.

I look down at the newborn in my arms, then back at my men. And my entire body is consumed with the longing to have their children. To give them strong, beautiful babies just like this one.

I’ve been around plenty of little ones before. I’ve oohed and aahed and looked forward to someday having my own, but that desire has never once been tied to a man I was seeing.

But these men?

They’d give me beautiful babies. And I have no doubt they’d make fantastic fathers.

Lifting the infant in my arms ever so slightly, I raise my eyebrows. Do you want to hold him? Deke glances at Brock and Cody for permission, then steps forward.

I rise from my chair, and gently lay the baby in his arms.

He looks down. His face goes soft and a little awed, like he’s seeing something sacred. Behind him, Jake’s eyes are intent, like he’s trying to feel what his brother’s experiencing by sheer force of will.

Oh yeah.

I totally want to have their babies.

Deke hands the baby back to me, and I start to turn toward Megan, but Cody jerks his head toward Jake. I smile my thanks and wait for Deke to switch places with his brother.

When Jake has the baby cradled against his chest, his eyes go bright. “Beautiful,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “Fucking amazing.”

Nobody says a word about him swearing in front of the babies. I think we’re all trying not to cry. After a few long moments, he gives the little boy back — reluctantly, it seems — and I lean down to Megan.

Her eyes are wet. The look she gives me speaks volumes, and I send some right back to her. “Congratulations,” I say softly, and kiss her cheek.

Brock and Cody get handshakes from the twins, and hugs from me, and then the three of us go out. We’re very quiet, and I know for me it’s because my mind and heart are so full.

Because the last few minutes have burned through what was left of my defenses, and I can’t pretend anymore.

I’m in love with Jake and Deke. Full stop, no holds barred, forever and ever in love. Settle down and have babies in love.

Do they feel that? Do they want that?

Yes, they want to move in together. They say they like having me under their skin. But what does that mean, for men who love to be on the road?

Maybe it’s more about convenience than anything else. Easier to only have one house to come and go from, one bed to sleep in. No worries about when they have to pick me up, or when I’ll be leaving.

Despite everything they said about my strength, I’m being a coward again. We climb into the truck to drive back home, and I’m silent. I want to tell them — I love you — but the words won’t come out.

We’re passing my apartment complex when both their phones beep. Jake checks his and swears. “Fuckin’ bar’s on fire!”

“Shit.” Deke swerves into the parking lot and skids to a stop near my apartment. “We gotta drop you here, darlin’. Might be hours before we’re free.”

I almost say I’ll come with them, but they clearly don’t want me there. I’m the woman in their bed, and on their bikes, but not the one they want at their sides through thick and thin.

I was right not to tell them.

My heart is heavy as Jake jumps out and helps me down. “Stay safe,” I tell them, and start for the stairs, sad and distracted.

The hands that grab me seem to come out of nowhere.

I whirl, shedding my jacket by instinct as I move, and catch a glimpse of one enraged face before they’re on me again.

Buddy. The creep from the bar. The other man must be his friend who was there that night.

They’re dragging me toward a car, its trunk open. Someone’s standing there. A woman.

Angel.

All this happens in the space of two seconds, maybe less, and then the shock that’s kept me silent shatters.

“NO! NO NO NO NO NO!” I scream it, howl it, as loud as I can, over and over again, while I kick and thrash and bite like my life depends on it.

Which it might.

But all I can think is, I wish I’d told them.

A hand covers my mouth and I sink my teeth in deep. “Fucking bitch!” a man’s voice snarls. Something hard hits the side of my head, and stars fill my vision. “Pick her up. Fuck, how can such a tiny little thing weigh so much?”

My body drops onto a hard surface. As the trunk slams closed, I vaguely think I hear tires screeching. I lose track of time then, and everything else, but after what might be seconds or minutes or hours it registers on me that the car isn’t moving.

Distant thudding sounds reach my ears, and deep angry voices. I lose track again, my head throbbing sharply. The trunk smells like oil and dust and rubber and metal. A corner of my brain tries to memorize the odors, as though they might enable me to identify the car later on.

There’s not enough air.

Slow, shallow breaths. That’s it.

Stay alive.

Then the lid of the trunk flies open and Jake’s there. “Tara.” He scoops me out, cradling me against him like he did Megan’s son. “Ambulance is coming, baby. Stay with me.”

My lips move — Have to tell you — but no sound comes out. His eyes are so beautiful. I wish I could keep mine open.

“Tara! Stay with me, dammit.”

Love you. My mouth keeps trying.

Then the darkness swallows me up.