Page 90 of Carnival Mayhem

“I saw them in this little antique shop,” I explain. “They’re a matched set, and I just knew they were meant for you.”

Colt’s ice-blue eyes meet mine, filled with a tenderness that takes my breath away. “They’re perfect, angel.”

“Like you,” Nash adds, pulling me into his arms.

I nestle against his chest as Colt moves behind me, surrounding me in their warmth. The watches catch the light between us, their synchronized ticking a steady rhythm like three hearts beating as one.

“I wanted something that showed how we belong together,” I say softly. “How you two were always meant to be together, and somehow, I was blessed to fit between you.”

Nash’s lips brush my temple. “You didn’t just fit, little bird. You completed us.”

“These must have cost a fortune,” Colt murmurs, his hand sliding down my arm.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about that. They were worth every penny to see your faces right now.”

I watch Nash reach under the tree, pulling out a small velvet box. My heart skips—after the beautiful coat they gave me yesterday, I hadn’t expected anything else.

“This is something special, little bird,” Nash says, his eyes warm as he hands me the box. “Something to show you’ll always be ours.”

Colt’s hand rests on my lower back as I carefully open the lid. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lies a delicate silver chain with three interlinked circles. The middle circle holds a small diamond that catches the morning light.

“The three circles represent us,” Colt explains softly. “Forever linked, forever protecting each other.”

My vision blurs with tears as I lift the necklace. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned, but more than that, it’s a symbol of everything they mean to me—of how they saved, loved, and helped make me whole.

“We had it custom-made,” Nash adds, taking the necklace from my fingers. He moves behind me, brushing my hair to fasten it around my neck. The silver circles rest just below my collarbone, cool against my skin.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, touching the circles with reverent fingers. “I love it so much.”

“Like we love you,” Colt says, pulling me into his arms. Nash wraps his arms around us, and I’m enveloped in their warmth, strength, and devotion.

The necklace represents everything we are—three pieces forming something unbreakable when joined together. As I stand between them, wearing their gift against my heart, I know I’ll never be alone again.

I rest my head against Nash’s chest, still overwhelmed by the beauty of their gift when my stomach growls loudly. Nash’s chest rumbles with laughter.

“Sounds like someone needs breakfast,” he says, kissing my temple.

“The Christmas feast isn’t until later,” Colt adds, his hand sliding down my back. “And Ty always goes all out in the main tent.”

“Really?” I lift my head, curiosity piqued. Despite living at the carnival for a few weeks, I still need to learn more about their traditions.

“It’s quite the sight,” Nash says. “Ty sets up this massive table down the center of the main tent. Everyone comes together—all the performers, vendors, crew. It’s like...”

“A big misfit family dinner,” Colt finishes, smiling. “No one here has a normal family background, so we’ve made our own.”

My heart swells at the thought. After years of painful Christmases with my foster families, the idea of sharing a meal with people who truly care about each other feels magical.

“Come on,” Nash says, tugging me toward our small kitchen area. “Let’s get some food in you first. Can’t have you fainting from hunger before your first carnival Christmas dinner.”

I follow him willingly, watching as he and Colt move around each other with practiced ease, pulling out eggs and bacon. The necklace rests cool against my skin, a beautiful reminder that I belong with them in this unconventionally perfect family.

“My first of many,” I say softly, touching the three circles at my throat.

Both men pause their breakfast preparations to look at me, their eyes full of love and promise.

“Many, many more,” Colt agrees, pulling me into a quick kiss before returning to the stove.

I move to the coffee maker, knowing exactly how they both take their morning brew. It’s funny how quickly these little details become second nature. Nash likes his with just a splash of cream, while Colt takes his black with two sugars.

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