When We Fall – Bonus Scene

Austin  

The house felt different when Winnie wasn’t in it.

Not empty—not really. Her glitter had a way of haunting every surface we owned, and there was still a tiny plastic sword on the entryway table from whatever battle she’d waged before Brian picked her up, plus a crumpled drawing on the fridge that read SPARKLE FORT RULES in unhinged, proud marker. Still, the quiet settled deeper tonight, spreading through the rooms like warm syrup, slow and thick and impossible to ignore.

Summer pressed in from the open windows, carrying the sweet smell of cut grass and the low, relentless song of cicadas. Out on the porch, the swing creaked once every time the breeze shifted, a soft wooden complaint that reminded me I’d built it with my own hands and somehow, impossibly, it had turned into a heartbeat for the whole damn house.

I stood at the sink, rinsing two wine glasses, letting the water run longer than necessary because watching Selene moved me in ways I still hadn’t learned how to name.

She walked bare-assed across the kitchen in a shirt—my shirt, like she’d claimed it the way she’d claimed everything else about me without even trying—her hair loose and a little wild from the humid night. The hem brushed the backs of her thighs when she reached over to wipe the counter, and she hummed under her breath, quiet and absentminded, like she’d forgotten anyone could hear her.

Those little tells hit me harder than the big moments ever had.

The way she leaned into the edge of the island when she laughed, the way she tucked her chin when she was pleased, the way she moved through this space like she trusted it to hold her. 

The way she trusted me.

The glass slipped in my hands, and I caught it before it could clink too loudly. Selene glanced over her shoulder and arched a brow, lips curving with that lazy confidence that made me want to drop to my knees and thank whatever unlucky god had finally run out of ways to keep me from her.

“You’re doing the dishes like you’re trying to earn a medal,” she teased.

Heat rolled low in my belly, familiar and sharp as a match strike. I shut off the faucet and set the glass on the drying rack, wiping my hands on the dish towel.

“I am trying to earn a medal,” I said, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Preferably one you hand me in bed.”

Selene’s smile widened, slow and wicked, a promise wrapped in silk. She turned fully then, bracing her hands on the counter behind her and letting her weight sink back just enough to show she liked being looked at, liked making it hard for me to think.

She had always been beautiful, even on the days she felt frayed at the edges, but tonight there was something else in her—a softness that didn’t feel like surrender, only trust. Her eyes were warm, her cheeks faintly flushed from the wine, and her mouth looked like it was made for sin.

My body remembered that the second I took a step toward her.

Selene tilted her head. “Is that so?”

I reached her in three strides, sliding my hands to her hips, fingers curling around the warm curve like my palms had been made for her. Selene didn’t flinch, didn’t question, only inhaled softly and let her knees part as I stepped closer.

Her voice dropped. “What kind of medal are we talking?”

The laugh that left me was low and ruined. “The kind I have to work really, really hard for.”

Selene’s gaze flicked down to my mouth. Her lips parted like she was already tasting it, already deciding. She pushed off the counter and met me halfway, her hands sliding up my chest, fingers splaying over my shirt like she could feel my pulse through the fabric.

The first kiss landed soft, a brush that set my nerves on fire. The second kiss went deeper, her mouth opening under mine with a quiet sound that punched straight through every ounce of restraint I’d pretended to have.

Her taste was wine and sugar and Selene, and I could have lived off it.

I kissed her like I meant it. Her hands threaded into my hair, tugging just enough to make my breath hitch, and my fingers tightened on her hips, grounding myself in the reality of her body, her heat, her weight leaning into me like she belonged there.

A hunger roared inside my ribs. Selene pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting briefly against mine. “Austin,” she whispered, like my name was something she kept safe in her mouth.

My throat went tight. “Yeah?”

Her eyes flicked to the sink behind me, then back to my mouth, amusement and want braided together. “Are you going to finish earning your medal, or are we going to keep standing here pretending we’re responsible adults?”

The way she said it—like she knew what she did to me, like she was daring me and giving me permission at the same time—turned my blood into a rush of heat.

I hooked my hands beneath her thighs and lifted her up onto the counter.

Selene’s gasp cut short as she wrapped her legs around my waist, instinctive and unguarded, her palms bracing on my shoulders. The shirt rode up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs and the bare, soft curve of her ass, and something feral twisted awake in me at the sight.

My mouth found her throat, kissing a slow path to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Selene shivered, her fingers curling in my hair like she needed to hold on.

“You’re trouble,” I murmured against her skin, letting the words scrape out of me.

Selene laughed—breathless, quiet. “You like trouble.”

My hands slid over her, memorizing what I already knew by heart, the way her body yielded while still feeling powerful, the way she fit like she’d been made for my grip. My thumb brushed the inside of her thigh, and she made a soft, broken sound that unspooled something hot and possessive in my chest.

Selene’s mouth found mine again, the kiss turning messy and hungry, her tongue stroking against mine in a way that made my head tilt back for half a second, breath leaving me like I’d been hit. Her hips rolled once against my waist, a small movement that felt like a match to gasoline.

Control slipped fast.

My thoughts scattered into fragments—her laugh, her eyes, the way she’d looked at me earlier when I’d fixed the latch on the screen door like I’d hung the moon—until the only thing left was the weight of her and the need hammering down my spine.

My lips dragged down her throat again, slow and worshipful, then lower, and I felt her pulse jump under my mouth. Selene’s hands tightened on my shoulders, nails pressing through my shirt.

“Austin,” she breathed, voice slipping into something raw.

I lifted my head and looked at her.

Summer air moved through the kitchen, lifting the edge of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils blown wide, her mouth swollen from my kisses. She looked like a woman who’d been kissed properly, thoroughly, and her expression made something in me go sharp with pride and hunger.

A vision rose up without warning, vivid enough to wind around my ribs and squeeze—Selene in this house months from now, hand resting on the curve of her belly, Winnie launching a million questions a minute while Selene laughed and told her to breathe. My chest ached at the simplicity of it. My body answered before my brain could catch up.

God, I want my baby inside her.

The thought landed heavy and hot, not just lust, not just some dirty impulse, but a deep, full-bodied want that made my hands tighten on her like I needed to remind myself she was real, she was here, she was mine to love.

Selene’s gaze held mine, steady and trusting, and it undid me.

My voice came out low and wrecked. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Selene didn’t hesitate. Her hands slid up my neck, fingers brushing the edge of my jaw as if she was claiming me back. “I’m yours.”

Something rough and relieved tore out of me.

“Yeah.” I kissed her once, slow enough to feel her soften beneath me. “And I’m yours. All the way.”

Selene’s eyes shimmered, not with tears, not with fear, only with that quiet intensity that always made me feel like she saw straight through to the parts of me I’d once kept locked away. She nodded like she understood exactly what I meant, exactly what I was offering, exactly what I’d already given without noticing.

My hands slid beneath her thighs again, and I lifted her off the counter with a gentleness that didn’t match the hunger clawing up my ribs.

Selene clung to me, laughing softly into my shoulder as I carried her through the hallway, the house dark except for the spill of moonlight through the windows. Her legs tightened around my waist once as we passed the staircase, and the sound she made—soft, needy—shot straight through me.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind us.

The rest of the world vanished.

Time blurred into warmth and skin and whispered sounds, into Selene’s mouth forming my name like a prayer and my hands learning her all over again, into the familiar, devastating relief of being exactly where I belonged. The details didn’t matter as much as the feeling did—the way she met me with trust and heat, the way she pulled me closer when she could have pulled away, the way the house held our sounds without judgment, like it had been built for this.

After, the sheets tangled around our legs, and the night air cooled the sweat on my skin. Cicadas still sang outside. The porch swing creaked once, soft and steady, like punctuation.

Selene lay on her side facing me, hair spilled across the pillow, her mouth tinted and swollen, her eyes half-lidded in that satisfied way that made my chest swell with something close to reverence.

My hand drifted to her stomach without thinking, palm settling low, fingers splayed like I could protect her with touch alone. Selene’s breath hitched—not in alarm, only in recognition—and her hand covered mine, pressing it closer.

Silence stretched between us, thick with the kind of intimacy that didn’t need an audience.

Selene’s voice came quietly, as if she was testing the words before she let them exist. “If we did… try… would you be happy?”

The question pierced through me so cleanly it almost hurt.

I swallowed, staring at her in the dim light, seeing not only the woman she was tonight, but the woman who had fought to survive, to protect her daughter, to rebuild herself piece by piece. The thought of her choosing me on purpose, choosing a future with me, made my throat tighten with something that wasn’t just emotion—it was gratitude edged with disbelief.

My answer came like truth, immediate and sacred.

“I’d be ruined,” I said, voice rough. My thumb stroked lightly over her skin, slow and steady. “In the best way.”

Selene’s lips parted. Her gaze flicked to my hand on her stomach again, then back to my eyes, and something deep and vulnerable moved through her expression like a tide turning.

“I’m a little scared,” she admitted, so softly it almost didn’t clear the space between us.

My chest tightened. “I know.”

Selene’s laugh was quiet, breathy, not amused so much as honest. “You don’t even let it scare you.”

“I let it scare me,” I corrected, keeping my voice gentle, keeping my body still so she could read me. “I just don’t let it stop me.”

Her fingers tightened around mine.

“I don’t want to mess up what we have,” she whispered, and the words were so Selene it made my heart ache.

My mouth pressed to her knuckles, a kiss that lingered. “Nothing about you and Winnie could get messed up by love,” I murmured. “Love doesn’t take away, Selene. It adds. It grows.”

Selene’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You’d really want… that? Another kid? With me?”

The way she asked it—like she needed to be sure, like the idea felt too big to carry alone—made something fierce rise in me. My hand slid up, cupping her jaw, thumb stroking her cheekbone gently.

“I want you,” I said, letting the words land slow and solid. “I want the life we’ve built. I want to marry you. I want my baby inside you. I want Winnie and those kids knowing they’re the center of our universe. I want every morning you hum while you make coffee. I want the boring days and the hard days and the magic that sneaks in anyway.”

Selene’s eyes shimmered, and my chest tightened because I knew that look. She was trying to decide if she could believe it without losing her footing.

My voice softened. “If you want a baby someday, I want that too.”

Selene inhaled, held it, then exhaled like she’d been bracing for impact and realized there wasn’t any.

A slow smile pulled at her mouth, small and shaky and real. “I thought I’d want to wait until after the wedding,” she murmured, like she was talking to herself as much as to me.

My breath caught. The idea of marrying her already lived in my bones. The ring on her finger in the dim light still made me dizzy with satisfaction.

Selene’s gaze locked onto mine, steadying, warming. “Then I remember you never do anything halfway.”

My throat went tight.

Selene’s fingers slid up my wrist, holding me, anchoring me. Her voice dropped, velvet-soft, and the words hit me like a match to gasoline.

“Why wait?”

My body answered before my mind had time to catch up.

A sound left me—half laugh, half groan, half something dangerously close to a prayer—as I surged toward her, mouth finding hers with a hunger that had been waiting only for permission.

Selene kissed me back like she meant it, like she’d made a choice and wanted me to feel it. Her hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and my palm on her stomach tightened—protective, possessive, reverent.

Selene broke the kiss long enough to breathe against my mouth, voice teasing even as her eyes stayed soft. “So… about that medal.”

Heat tore through me, bright and relentless.

“Yeah,” I rasped, kissing her again as she wrapped herself around me like she belonged there, like she always had. “I’m going to earn it.”