Again, I realize I’m storming toward her with barely leashed desperation and worry, and I forcibly slow myself down. This is what I’ve been doing since the beginning. Moderating myself in every moment that we’re not intimate. Making her safe, physically and emotionally. Trying to give her an avenue of escape, because I know it’s what she needs not to feel cornered. Pressured. Even if I have the urge to crowd her sometimes.

Inhale her.

I’m a selfish man. But I’m learning to be unselfish with her. For her.

For them, too, now, I guess. I’ve evolved to fit.

Outside of my car now, I catch sight of Gabe in the driveway where he’s obviously been waiting, barefoot and shirtless in sweatpants that appear to be covered in floor stain. In my life before the tram, I probably never would have known this man. Or had a reason to speak with him, but there is no getting around this sense that we’re a team now. Our opponent is anything that makes Elise unhappy and I can’t stress how drastic that purpose feels. It’s like an iron sitting on my chest at all times—and it’s not just my burden. I can almost feel Tobias and Gabe carrying the same heaviness. It’s why I have no choice but to share her.

To be one of three, instead of her only one.

I don’t know if the instinct to edge out my competition for her attention will ever fully go away—winning is too deeply ingrained in me—but the edges of that instinct are dulling in the face of what she clearly needs.

We converge on her in the middle of the street, our hands everywhere. Whispering comfort to her. It’s insane. This behavior, this relationship. All of it. But I’ve never experienced anything better in my life. Not when I was named the head coach of the Flare. Not when we won our first championship. Not ever. Nothing compares to her going limp in between us, confident that we won’t let her fall.

She buries her face between Gabe’s pecs and he immediately begins crooning to her, petting her hair. Her fingers slide into mine and squeeze. Tobias, of course, has her rear end parked in his lap—but he doesn’t appear as smug as usual. No, we lock gazes over the top of Elise’s head and I can see he is clearly shaken, like me. Like Gabe.

“Who fucked with you?” Gabe demands to know. Then to us, “Who fucked with her?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” I say, bringing her hand to my mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Did you meet with the police?”

“Yes.” A muscle ticks in Tobias’s cheek. “But nothing was missing, so they left rather quickly.”

“Nothing was missing?” Gabe echoes. “I don’t understand.”

“Actually…” Elise takes a deep breath. “Something was missing.”

Across the street, one of the neighbors is watching the three of us comfort Elise with his mouth open, garden hose forgotten in his hand, water splashing all over the sidewalk. “We should go inside.”