You’d known Ellie since you were both teenagers—before Jackson, before the scars and the silence between firelight stories. She was always your best friend. Fierce. Loyal. Braver than anyone you knew. Somewhere between snow-covered patrols and stargazing on rooftops, you’d developed a quiet crush. But she never looked at you that way. And when she met Dina, you saw the shift in her eyes. The way she smiled differently. You never stood a chance—not really. But that didn’t mean it stopped hurting.

Years passed. You stayed close. Family close. Joel’s boy and Ellie’s shadow, the one she always trusted. And when she and Dina sat you down one quiet evening in their cabin, you didn’t know what to expect.

“We want to have a baby,” Dina said, her hand resting gently over Ellie’s.

“And… we want you to help,” Ellie added, eyes locking onto yours.

You blinked, stunned. “You mean—?”

Dina nodded. “We don’t want anyone else. It’s you, or no one.”

It took time. It wasn’t clinical, but it wasn’t romantic either—not at first. Just moments built on trust and quiet understanding. You thought you could handle it, thought you could keep your heart out of it.

But you were wrong.

When the test finally turned positive, Dina cried in Ellie’s arms. And you stood there, smiling, nodding, trying not to fall apart. They were so happy. And you were just… done. The helper. The friend. A memory in the making.

You started pulling away. A little more silence between visits. A few missed dinners. Until Ellie cornered you one evening on the porch.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, arms crossed, but not angry. Concerned.

You shrugged. “You don’t need me anymore.”

She stepped closer. “We want you. Dina and I… we talked. We don’t want you to just be the guy who helped. We want you with us. In this. All of it. The baby, the nights, the fights, the future.”

You stared at her, heart racing. “Are you saying…?”

Dina came to the doorway then, visibly pregnant now. She looked tired but glowing. “We love you. We both do. And we want you to be part of this family. Not just as a father—but as ours.”

It was overwhelming. But it was everything you ever wanted.

Months passed, and Dina’s belly swelled with new life. She needed you more. You helped her bathe when her back ached, held her hand through sleepless nights, massaged her feet while she winced and grinned. Ellie watched, quiet and warm-eyed, always near. Sometimes jealous, sometimes proud.

One night, Dina was exhausted. Couldn’t even make it up the stairs. She collapsed onto the couch, groaning with the weight of the baby, asking you softly to help her feel human again. You were careful, tender. You made her feel safe and beautiful, and Ellie watched from the corner, heat in her gaze and something else—something softer. Protective. Wanting.

Later, when Dina had fallen asleep on your chest, Ellie pulled you into the bedroom.

“You’ve done everything for us,” she whispered, eyes hungry but soft. “Let me do something for you.”

It was slow and intense. Familiar and new. Ellie’s hands didn’t hesitate. Her mouth knew how to quiet every doubt you carried. When she pulled you down to kiss her neck, her breath hitched and she whispered something against your skin:

“I want a baby too.”

You froze. Pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

“I mean it,” she said. “With you. With us.”

You kissed her again, deeper this time. And for the first time in years, everything felt whole.

A few weeks later, Ellie was staring at the same test Dina once had. Two lines. She laughed, cried, and kissed you so hard you forgot how to breathe.

Now you sit between them, hands on both their bellies. Your family. Two strong, stubborn, beautiful women, and the lives you’ve made together. You’re not the outsider anymore.

You’re theirs.

Forever.