Breathless-kindle

by Alexander, R. G.

  She nodded, slipping into sleep a second later as if she’d turned off a light. He had no idea how she did that, but he’d seen it before. She wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

  He stood there watching her longer than he should have. Thinking about everything that had happened in the last few months. Her leaving. The fire. The next steps he needed to take.

  It wasn’t Thoreau’s nature to not go after what he wanted. And he wanted this. Taking care of Fiona and having her with him. Loving her.

  After all these years, he knew her well enough to realize that, as insightful and loving as she could be, her personal issues with commitment and trust were more than just a lifestyle choice. She wasn’t so much a free spirit as she was a runner. It was why he hadn’t been insulted when she left his bed in a barely-disguised panic after spending the night with him. Why he hadn’t responded to Wyatt’s glares or unspoken challenges when he discovered she’d confessed the truth to him before she left for California that first time.

  When someone got too close, she pushed them away. And the more she wanted someone, the faster and farther she ran. Fiona wanted both of them. Wyatt and Thoreau. And it was for so much more than just sex, or she wouldn’t have had to fly all the way across the country just to get away from them.

  Twice.

  She wasn’t the easiest woman to love, but she was the only woman he wanted. His one. He had more than a sneaking suspicion that Wyatt Finn felt the same. And since no one had asked for pistols at dawn or a street race to win her affections, that meant it was time for him to make his big move. Something to shake things up and get them out of this pattern the three of them had been repeating for the last few years.

  He was tired of the tug-of-war that always chased Fiona away because she was unwilling to choose between them and Wyatt’s stubbornly closed mind made her unwilling to vocalize her true desires.

  It was time to put his plan into action.

  ***

  Thoreau relaxed a little as he walked through the narrow, brick-lined basement of Finn’s Microbrews toward the large stainless-steel tanks that held his latest creations. He loved coming here, and not just because it was the one area of his life he had zero doubts about.

  It still gave him a thrill to think about how quickly they’d turned Seamus Finn’s hobby into a full-fledged business that was putting them both on the map in the local craft community. He couldn’t help but be proud of what he’d helped to build here.

  Technically they were still at the brew pub stage with some modest outside sales—mostly because Seamus had stopped his insanely rich sugar daddy of a husband from interfering with his wallet—but Thoreau was already working out his plan to expand their production scale and market penetration over the next few years.

  Thoreau had fallen in love with making beer almost as soon as the idea had been planted in his head by his brother, Hugo, when he’d mentioned that the owner of Finn’s pub was looking for an assistant brewmaster to start making signatures beers for his place.

  He’d already been in school, had never even considered brewing beer until that moment, but after a few hours online his life had changed its trajectory forever.

  A few years, several certifications and a business degree later, and he was here. Standing in what used to be the basement of Finn’s Pub, but was now a business he co-owned with Seamus Finn.

  It wasn’t just the satisfaction of being a business owner that excited him. Thoreau loved having the freedom to create his own beers, along with the family-themed specialties the pub was known for.

  Which was actually why he’d stopped in before heading to the hospital for a visit.

  He stepped up to a group of shiny three-hundred-gallon conical fermentation tanks to check the digital read-outs of the fermentations. The new temperature-regulated tanks were keeping everything in the optimum range to produce the flavors he was looking for.

  Thoreau had high hopes for this latest batch, but for once, his reasons had nothing to do with the business. He’d been working on it for months—before Fiona had left for the second time and Wyatt had been injured in the fire—developing the recipes for a strong beer/mead hybrid called a braggot, a smooth cream ale, and an Irish red with a little something special.

  Three beers. One for each of them. Symbolic? Sure. But they should also be delicious.

  He climbed a few steps up a short ladder next to one of the fermenters to peer into the small glass porthole. “In high gear now, aren’t we, baby?” he said with pride as he watched the roiling foam churn.

  He ducked his head down to sniff the aroma pouring out of the airlock valve and couldn’t help but let out a groan of delight at the rich, heady scent that greeted him. “I knew I was good, but damn.”

  “Are you talking to yourself again? Or the beer?” asked a familiar voice from the other end of the basement.

  Thoreau grabbed the ladder to steady himself, “Holy shit, Seamus! I didn’t hear you coming down the stairs.”

  “Shit, I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Seamus quickened his steps and reached instinctively for the ladder. “You breaking your neck is the last thing I need on my conscience.”

  Thoreau grinned. “I’m literally two feet off the ground. You can’t stop with the Dad thing, can you?”

  Seamus ran a hand over his face and shook his head. “You get yourself four kids, Thor. Then you’ll know.” He gestured to the tanks. “Your secret experiments going well?”

  “Of course,” Thoreau said, raising his eyebrow as he stepped off the ladder. “I’m a highly trained professional.”

  “Can’t wait to try one. I was just coming down to do a check myself, since I didn’t expect you here. The group text said they were sending Fiona home to get some sleep.”

  “They did. She was out before she got under the covers.” Thoreau saw the tension around Seamus’ eyes and his smiled faded. “How’s everybody else holding up?”

  His business partner found a stool and sat down with a sigh. “Two cousins laid up at the same time, one of them as physically altered as Noah? Honestly, I think we’re all still in shock. They’ve been running into fires for years, but this is the first time we’ve acknowledged the reality that they could be badly hurt.”

  He hadn’t seen how altered Noah was, but he’d heard all about it from Fiona. “Have you seen him? Noah?”

  Seamus paled. “I have. It could have been a lot worse if it weren’t for Wyatt, but he’s still got one hell of a road ahead.”

  “Well he’s got you. And the rest of his family, shocked or not. That’ll help.”

  “And Mom. Thank God for Ellen Finn,” Seamus praised with a small grin. “All us big, tough Finns could learn a thing or two from that woman. She even glared Dad out of the room until he could manage to talk to Noah without crying. At the moment, Younger is the only one she trusts to be in there with him when she isn’t around, and he feels so guilty about neglecting Wyatt, he keeps texting whoever is visiting him to let him know he’s there.”

  “He’s a good guy. But sweet little Ellen is the taskmaster?”

  Seamus chuckled. “You’ve never seen my mother in a true crisis. Sweet little Ellen knows it’s going to be hard enough for Noah to fight through his recovery without a bunch of assholes gasping every time they see his face. The doctor said that when he’s ready, there are new surgeries that can do a lot to minimize the damage. But first he has to heal. He has to want to. He gets it. My mother gets it. Even Hugo, gets it. Me? I still want to cry just thinking about what he’s going through.”

  Thoreau didn’t blame him. He imagined the Finn men would have a rougher time with something like that. Especially Wyatt’s brothers. They didn’t admit to weakness easily in that family. “And Wyatt? Fiona said they’re letting him go tomorrow?”

  “He still hurts, but yes, he’s out in the morning. He should be good as new in another month or so, as long as he takes it easy. No exertion for a while. Not until his PT starts. I’ve been looking into it so we can l
ook after him.”

  Although he’d heard most of this from Fiona, Thoreau nodded, making mental notes to himself. He’d need to coordinate his schedule with her to make it feasible. Especially for the few weeks Wyatt needed extra care. But this could work.

  “I’m going to convince him to stay at the Wayne-plex during his recovery.”

  Seamus did a double-take. “You’re what?”

  Thoreau shrugged. “I have the room, and I already know everyone was arguing about where to put him so Noah could have his nurse at home. This solves that problem.”

  Staring at him enigmatically, Seamus admitted, “There were arguments, and yes, once Noah gets out of the hospital, he needs a live-in, at least between surgeries. But he can—”

  “I’m assuming there’s already someone there to help with little Zach, too? Or is he staying with your parents?” Thoreau interrupted with a bland, innocent expression.

  “Nanny,” Seamus answered shortly, starting to frown. “Thor, I appreciate the offer, but he might be more comfortable with his family.”

  Thoreau wasn’t so sure. And he wasn’t budging.

  “You could technically say I’m family by marriage. I don’t have kids or animals. I’m a decent cook, and I have an extra apartment attached to mine for additional privacy or extended family visits. Not to mention, I have something at my place that will motivate Wyatt to heal faster than he would hanging out at your place playing videogames with Wes and Little Sean.”

  Seamus snorted and shook his head. “Fiona?”

  “I see you’ve met your cousin Wyatt. Yes. Fiona.”

  Seamus seemed bemused. “Younger and I have been talking about the situation nonstop for the last two days, wondering if we should get him situated at the townhouse, just to move him again when Noah comes home. But we didn’t even put your duplex on the list for consideration. It seems kind of out of the blue.”

  If he only knew.

  “Impulsive is my middle name,” Thoreau said blandly.

  Seamus crossed his thick arms, his blue eyes narrowing. “It really isn’t, and I don’t mean to do the Dad thing again, but I have to ask what this is about. To be honest, we’d given up on trying to figure out what’s been going on between the three of you a while ago, but you and Wyatt have never been the ‘You can stay at my place to recuperate’ kind of friends. At least, it never seemed like you were. We weren’t even sure any of you were still talking until Fiona showed up at the hospital.”

  “I would say I didn’t realize so many people were interested in my personal life, but I work here so I know about the betting pool.”

  “They started a pool?” Seamus asked. “When? How did I not know this? Was it Rory?”

  “I think it was Natasha. I could be wrong.”

  “Maybe not.” Seamus sent him a wide-eyed, speaking glance. “You should hear about some of the trouble my sister-in-law has gotten your sister mixed up in.”

  “Oh, I have. And I know Bronte’s been the main instigator of those shenanigans. Her word, not mine. She says she can drop that s-bomb in any sentence now because she married Irish.”

  Seamus smirked. “She’s right. That is in the vows. I should tell William, but I think I’d be breaking the bartender code.”

  “He was a bartender before he owned the gym. I’d call that a loophole. Go ahead and tell him. I won’t be behind the bar as much now that Fiona’s back, and our little brewery is shenanigan-proof.”

  “Is she back? Fiona, I mean, is she staying?” Seamus hesitated. “I put her on the schedule for next week, like she asked, and she knows she’ll always have a job here. But I was wondering…”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “And you’re sure that while you’re working on it, you want to watch Wyatt getting Florence Nightingaled by Fiona right in front of you? You know, men in need of fixing are like catnip for big hearts like hers. I feel guilty for saying this when I know how my own cousin feels about her, but if you wanted her for yourself…”

  Thoreau knew he was waiting for a response, but he didn’t know what to tell him. Yes, he’d wanted her for years. When they were friends and she helped him get through finals, he’d wanted her. When they celebrated triumphs and spent hours talking on the phone and texting about those crazy Finns, he’d wanted her. When he watched Wyatt and Fiona circle each other like binary stars, he’d wanted to be a part of it, too.

  How did he tell Seamus that the idea of sharing Fiona with another man hadn’t bothered him the way he’d always believed it was supposed to? That it didn’t diminish what he felt for her at all? Seamus’ sister was in a poly relationship, and initially it had caused a lot of waves in their family. Would that help him understand?

  All Thoreau knew was, conventional or not, when something was right, you didn’t let it slip through your fingers without doing everything in your power to hold onto it.

  What he felt for Fiona was right.

  “She’ll want him there,” he finally said. “And I want what she wants.”

  He wasn’t lying. And that was something he’d have to deal with, too. Something he’d been avoiding. Just one more reason why his plan needed to be put into motion ASAP.

  “I don’t know what that expression on your face is all about, Thor,” Seamus said, his brow furrowing, “and I won’t begin to guess what Fiona wants, but I need you to tell her to try and tone it down for the next few weeks. You three can get back to whatever game you’re playing and all those fraught and meaningful undercurrents at a later date.” He paused, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m as uncomfortable talking about this as you are, but we’re discussing his health here, and you can’t take any chances with it.”

  “I’m aware.” Thoreau walked around him, grabbing a clean swing-top bottle from a shelf and taking it over to the large refrigerator. He opened the door to reveal three small kegs labeled braggot, cream ale, and Irish red special.

  Seamus got up and followed him. “Those are the proof-of-concept kegs for the beer in the tanks?”

  “They are.”

  “And that Irish red is—”

  “You know the drill.”

  “I know. I’ll wait.” Seamus reached up to squeeze his shoulder as Thoreau filled the bottle from the cream ale keg. “I’m sorry, Thor. We’re all on edge lately. It’s beyond generous for you to offer up a place for him. He can be a pain, but I imagine the fact that Fiona is there will put him in a better mood. I just… Okay, here’s what I got from your brother, the nurse. Don’t let him talk for the first week unless it’s an emergency. Make sure he has his medicine and treatments, and make him drink as much broth and tea as he can stomach, because it will soothe his throat. Even if he refuses. And he will.”

  Thoreau’s mood lightened a bit. “He’ll hate all of that. Especially the no-talking bit.”

  Seamus gave him a look and Thoreau couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? You know I’m right. Or have you forgotten he’s the initiator of multiple Finn phone tree scandals?”

  “No comment.” But his lips were pressed together suspiciously. “Just be nice.”

  “Me? I’m an angel.” Thoreau slid the top over the neck of the bottle and flipped down the wire hoop to secure it. “Ask either of our mothers. I’m done here, if you want to head back up. I’ve got to hurry if I want to get to the hospital without hitting traffic.”

  He slipped the bottle into an inside pocket of his jacket and Seamus frowned suspiciously. “And what, exactly, are you planning to do with that at the hospital?”

  Thoreau held up his hands. “I already called Bronte. She said, hypothetically, that his medication had been reduced enough that he could have, and I quote, a few small sips of beer. That’s all I’ll let him have.”

  “Wyatt? You’re sneaking Wyatt a beer in the hospital?” Seamus stared at him for a long moment before a smile curved the edges of his mouth. “You’re bringing my cousin beer I’m not allowed to taste yet, before inviting him home to recuperate with the
girl of his dreams?”

  “Well, it’s not an indoor pool,” Thoreau responded dryly. “But we work with what we’ve got.”

  Chapter Four

  Thoreau

  He was still thinking about that look Seamus had given him as he dodged photographers on the way to the elevator from the parking garage. It seemed more approving than judgmental, and he couldn’t help but be relieved. There were few people he respected more, and his plan only worked if he had allies. At least, if it even got to phase three.

  He kept his head down and smirked when the bored journalists barely looked his way. That’s right. Nothing to see here but a black man in an elevator with a beer.

  What was it with these guys? There were people in the world who honestly believed the earth was flat and science was fake, but these motherfuckers didn’t have anything better to do with their time? Like maybe reporting some actual news?

  He wasn’t sure how Seamus and the others dealt with all the attention, but he was relieved he’d gotten by without notice. He had no desire to be famous or infamous, just successful enough to take care of himself and his family if need be. Attention wouldn’t get him closer to his goal. Wyatt would.

  Thoreau just hoped he was in the mood to listen. Particularly to him. Despite their family ties and the years of knowing each other at a distance, neither one of them had made the effort required for actual friendship. Wyatt had been with Noah or Fiona, Thoreau had been working and going to school and they’d both been too busy lusting after Fiona Howard to come to any kind of understanding.

  That was part of what Thoreau was here to change.

  He smiled absently at one of the nurses as he maneuvered through the plain white hallways, still concealing his contraband. Fi hated her last name. She thought Howard sounded average and boring, like somebody’s old golfing buddy. But she refused to have it legally changed.

  “I need to remember where I came from so I always know where I’m going.”

  She kept the details of where she came from to herself, though, along with a lot of other things about her life before Seamus gave her the job at the pub. As far as his family and Wyatt’s were concerned, Fiona had magically sprung up fully formed in their time of need. She tended bar, doled out advice, befriended children and led Thoreau and Wyatt on a chase that had lasted years.