He glances over at me and smiles. “Morning.”
I let out a groan, still too tired to figure out how to use words.
“I haven’t heard Elliot and Wren get up yet. You want coffee?”
I nod, reaching out and resting my hand on his leg. He’s here. He’s safe. No bullet holes present.
“I’ll go get some started.”
“Okay,” I croak out, rubbing my eyes.
However much I want him to stay and hold me until I wake up all the way, I don’t ask. He’s been sitting up in bed all night. The man is probably so restless he feels like he’s about to burst.
Before he steps out of the room, I sit up. “Rhett.”
He turns.
“Thank you. For staying.”
A faint smile graces his lips, and then he’s gone.
I grab my phone and scroll through my notifications until my eyelids don’t feel like they weigh fifteen pounds each. After getting ready for the day, I head down to the kitchen.
Rhett hands me a cup of coffee with a kiss, and I settle onto a barstool at the counter. He can’t stop doing things with his hands—fiddling with his own cup of coffee, opening and closing a drawer absentmindedly, pulling at his shirt.
How he has spare energy, I’ll never understand.
“I think I’m gonna go on a run.”
I frown. “In the snow?”
“The road’s plowed fine. I’ve just been restless all night.” He winces. “Not that I minded. I promise I didn’t.”
“I know,” I say softly, sipping my coffee. “Do whatever you need. Just bring a weapon, please.”
“Always.” With that, he disappears, leaving his coffee abandoned on the counter.
With a sigh, I head to the sunroom. I drink my coffee, looking over the front yard. My gaze snags on Rhett, and I watch him walk down the driveway.
He’ll be fine. He always is.
“There you are.” Wren’s sweet voice fills my whole body with warmth.
She’s still in Elliot’s T-shirt, but this time she’s wearing panties. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a chance to steal the ones she packed with her, or the ones we bought for her.
Regrettable.
“Missed me so much you just had to come find me?” I hold out my arm to her, and she settles into my lap.
We both watch Rhett together as he breaks into a jog. “Is he okay?”
My heart aches. “He hasn’t been okay in a long time, princess. But he’s . . . getting better.”
Frowning, she runs a hand through my hair. “And you? After last night?”
I swallow and look away. There’s a time and a place to open up to someone. Even then, it has to be the right person. And while I can’t help but think that Wren might be that right person, it’s definitely at a terribly wrong time.
Maybe if we didn’t live lives that could potentially put her in danger.
Maybe if she didn’t keep looking at us like she’s afraid we’re going to break her heart.
Maybe if we could guarantee that we could keep her safe—physically and emotionally.
But those are all just wishes. Dreams. The reality is that, at the end of the night, we’re going to have to let her go—even though none of us want to.
She tilts her head, watching me, and I wonder what’s going on in her head. What does she want? What fears are holding her back?
It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t work, anyway.
“Oliver?”
Right. She asked me a question.
“I’ll be fine, princess. We made it back safe, and your ex got what he deserved. Now, what do you want for breakfast? Eggs? Cereal? Waffles?”
She perks up. “Waffles, please.”
“Then waffles you shall get.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WREN
WE SPEND the day just existing together.
None of them will do more than kiss me, saying they don’t want to make me too sore. It’s sweet, but every goddamned thing they do turns me on, so it leaves me squirming with want.
Elliot wakes up some time before lunch, and we spend our afternoon hanging out in the living room—reading, playing games, completely normal stuff.
The whole day is a blissful masquerade of pretending that we’re more to each other than we are. Pretending that, at the end of the day, I’m not leaving.
The thought makes my heart ache. I tried so hard not to let these men burrow their way into my affections, but I failed. I’ve never felt so cared for before, and I don’t want to let it go.
But you barely know them, I tell myself all day. Is it worth the risk?
My heart tells me it is—that it’ll be worth getting broken again if it means more time in the arms of Elliot, Oliver, and Rhett. But my mind isn’t so sure, and it’s always been more reliable than my foolish heart.
They’ve known each other since high school. And while they may be a few years older than I am, that’s still almost ten years for me. So for them, it’s even longer.
How can I compare to that? They know each other inside out. Could I fit into their relationship? Do they want me to?
As I’m sitting on the couch next to Elliot, the thought that they don’t want me stings. Of course, this all started as a one-night thing with Elliot, and then it turned into a weekend.
But none of them have brought up the idea of extending this—for a week, a month, indefinitely, whatever.
And I’m too scared to brave asking the question myself.
“Something’s on your mind.” Elliot closes his book, setting it on the arm of the couch and turning to me.
Both Rhett and Oliver look up from the puzzle they’re working on together. With all three of them watching me, I can’t help but squirm.
“I don’t really want to talk about it. If that’s okay.” I stare down at my book while I say the last part.
“Of course it is, love.” Elliot kisses my forehead, and it sends a mixture of happiness and dread through me.
Maybe I should just leave now. The longer I draw it out, the harder this is going to be.
But I can’t seem to bring myself to ask one of them to take me home. And when dinnertime rolls around again, I find myself sneaking into Elliot’s room to change into the skimpiest, laciest nightgown I’ve ever seen.
It doesn’t even come halfway down my ass, and it shows off a bit of underboob—which I’m sure will have Oliver drooling. With a smile at myself in the mirror, I turn, admiring myself from every angle.
Last night, it was ridiculously satisfying to watch all three men adjust themselves in their pants when I came down to dinner dressed in almost nothing. I can’t wait to do it again.
I catch Rhett’s reflection in the mirror. He’s holding something in his hands that I can’t quite make out.
“Christ,” he mutters.
I turn, letting him admire my curves. “What do you think?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hate us. You’re really going to make us sit through dinner with you wearing this?”
I nod, giggling.
He sighs. “At least it’ll be worth it.” With a few steps, he’s on me, backing me into the bed. One of his hands fists the hair at the back of my head, pulling it so I’m looking up at him. “Tonight, I’m taking this perfect ass of yours. And you’re going to thank me afterward.”
I nod, a smile forming on my lips.