Eight months later

It was a sunny day, in Scotland. That alone might have been an omen, Amelia thought, as she stepped out of the taxi and onto the still-frozen dirt of the winding driveway. It was April.

And I thought Chicago was cold.

Everything about the day was a million times different than the first time she’d come here. When she’d looked out of the taxi window and seen the old cottage—rustic seemed too kind—she’d been filled with a sense of uncertainty, with no idea if she’d be equipped for the adventure she’d taken on. After all, she was just a geeky Midwestern girl, with no real experience of adventure to speak of.

What an adventure it had turned out to be.

Now, standing with her feet planted firmly in the dirt, duffel bag in one hand and laptop case in the other, she stared down the winding driveway and tried to summon that sense of uncertainty. Surely she should feel it. The first time she’d come, she’d known exactly why she was here and what she should do. People had been expecting her. No one was expecting her this time, but instead of uncertainty, all she could find was a bone-deep sense that she did, in fact, know exactly why she was here.

They should be home, this time of day. It was too early for Adam to have gone to the pub already and Callum—well, she actually had no idea what Callum would be doing on a farm at any time of day. She’d received only one letter from them in the time she’d been gone, telling her they’d decided to stay in Dalwally after all. There hadn’t been much by way of an explanation. She suspected the letter had been mostly to let her know where they were, just in case she ever decided to come home.

Home. The thought struck her, the word springing to mind entirely unbidden. But this had become home, in a way that neither Wisconsin or Chicago had ever been. One had been a place she’d wanted desperately to escape, the other was simply the place she’d ended up by virtue of a college admissions board. Scotland was the place she’d wound up never wanting to leave.

The small farmhouse came into view, and she could see a thin line of smoke trickling up from the chimney. She quickened her pace, her body suddenly flooded with adrenaline. What if they’re not happy to see you? The thought wound its way in, but she shoved it aside. What if they’ve met some other girl who wants to be a part of their ménage a trois? What if…

She silenced the train of thought abruptly. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. In only a few moments, she’d see Adam and Callum again. Whatever happened after that, happened.

She rounded the corner of the farmhouse, and in that moment she saw him.

He was exactly as she remembered—tall, broadly muscular, and as handsome as ever. The early afternoon sun glinted off of his long hair, pulled back in a practical ponytail, and she realized she was holding her breath. “Look over here, Adam,” she breathed, almost silently. “I came back.”

As if he’d heard her, or just sensed that she was there, he turned, and for a moment he stood frozen to the spot, his whole body going entirely still, his expression one of utter shock. And then, before she could react or think, he was running towards her, and the instant that he reached her she was in his arms.

She’d dreamed of this, a hundred times in the eight months that she’d been gone, but the reality was so much better. He smelled just as she remembered, of sun-warmed hay and soapy skin, oiled leather and the faint dusty smell of horses. She buried her face into his neck, unable to help herself, and when she pulled back to look at his face he cupped the back of her head with one broad hand and kissed her.

How could she ever have left? It was the only thought she had as his mouth brushed against hers, his lips as soft and warm as she had remembered, and she pressed her forehead to his, her hands burying themselves in his hair, his ponytail coming undone as she did so.

“A…Amelia?”

Callum’s voice, uncertain and shaky, cut through the moment, and Adam loosened his grip, slowly setting Amelia down. She turned to face the other man. His face was pale, and his eyes were fixed squarely on her.

“What are you doing here?”

Amelia felt it then, the sudden rush of uncertainty. She felt Adam shift beside her. “That’s a good question,” he said finally, turning to face her. “What brings you here, Amelia?”

She could see him pulling back, the momentary joy that had overcome him being replaced by self-protection. “Is the research project not finished?”

“No,” she said. “I mean…yes! Yes, the research project is finished. But…I came back anyway.” She took a step towards both men. “I got back to Chicago, and I accepted a job, and I tried to be happy there. I tried to do what I thought I was supposed to do—the responsible thing to do, the thing that everyone would have said I should do. But I wasn’t happy. Chicago isn’t where I belong anymore.”

Neither man said anything, but she could see hope dawning on Adam’s face.

She took a deep breath, and said it. It was all or nothing, now.

“This is where I belong. I should never have left. What happened while I was here—the things I felt—I’ve never felt that anywhere, with anyone. When I got on that plane this morning, I felt as if I were coming home. I’ve never had that feeling before.” Her eyes were filling with tears, and she dashed them away. She looked at Callum, and then at Adam. “I love you. I love you both. There’s nothing that could compare to what I had here with you, what we all had. I know it’s a long shot, and maybe you don’t even want me back, but I had to come and find out. And even if you don’t want me…” she took a long, shaky breath. “I had to see you one more time.”

This time, it was Callum who came towards her, his arms wrapping around her tightly, his face pressed against hers. “Don’t ever say that,” he whispered against her cheek, and she could feel the warmth of tears on his face. “Don’t ever say that we wouldn’t want you.” He pulled back, his hand going to her cheek, wiping away the streak of mingled tears there. “We were heartbroken when you left. I told you, Amelia,” he said, with a crooked half-smile, “you’re our missing piece.”

She stared at him, her eyes welling up all over again. “Oh, Callum,” she whispered, and then he leaned down to kiss her, one hand tangling in her hair as he pressed his mouth to hers. He tasted like cinnamon, and smelled like turpentine, and she pulled back for a moment, her face breaking into a smile. “Have you been baking or painting?” she asked, stifling a laugh.

“Can’t it be both?” Callum grinned and slid one hand over her hip, giving her ass a quick squeeze. “Come on into the house. Adam’s been working on an addition to it, so I have a studio of my own. In the meantime I’ve taken over one of the guest bedrooms.”

She looked at him and then at Adam. “So you want me to stay?”

“Lass,” Adam said, his voice thick with emotion. “There’s never been any question of that.” He stepped forward, his arm going around her waist as he looked down at her, and she saw unbridled joy in his expression.

Callum slid his arm around her as well, his hand clasping Adam’s behind her back, and she looked up at her two men. “However did you end up back here?” she asked. “And how on earth did you convince Callum?”

“Well now,” Callum said, “that’s a story, for certain.”

“But one for later,” Adam interjected. He glanced at Callum, and the two men exchanged a look of such deep love that Amelia felt her heart swell to see it. This is my life now, she thought. How did I get so lucky?

He looked down at her then, his expression unchanging. “For now, lass,” he said, “let’s go home.”

Yes, she thought, as they walked towards the farmhouse, linked together. Yes. I’m finally home.