What We May Be: An MMF Romantic Mystery

by Layla Reyne

  “I wanted to change first,” she said, distracting him from his impulse to reach for her. “But my inner hulk couldn’t wait.”

  “I can see that.” He dropped the suit jacket and hair clip on the bench beside her and the pumps at her feet. “Why do you insist on wearing those things when you’re kicking them off all the time?”

  Proving his point, she kicked them aside. “Because I’ve lived my entire life with men over six feet. And they’re pretty.”

  He knelt in front of her and took her right hand in his, gently prodding each scraped and swollen knuckle. “You did good to back off.”

  “I shouldn’t have let it get that far at all, especially here at the station. It only feeds her delusions.”

  “Light crowd on the floor, and she did bait you. Repeatedly. I was about ready to explode myself.” Knuckles checked, he curled her fingers into a fist and got a curse for the effort. He set her hand on her thigh. “Wraps in your locker?”

  “Yeah, number—”

  “Twelve.”

  She smiled. “You remembered.”

  “Twelve. Pizza. Raisinets. Cheerwine. Lagavulin. The Departed. The Wire. October…” He continued to rattle off her favorite things as he popped open her locker, dug around for her boxing gloves, and found the wraps and tape shoved inside.

  “An update to that list,” she said.

  He opened the first aid cabinet over the sinks and gathered supplies. “And what’s that?”

  “Ardbeg.”

  Pain pierced his chest and stole his breath at the remembered taste of the peaty scotch on her and Trevor’s lips that night a month ago. From there, a cascade of other memories assaulted him—the salt and cocoa butter taste of her skin, Trevor’s firm muscles under his hands, her sure hands running over his chest as Trevor’s wove through his hair, her legs clamped tight on either side of his hips, her muscles clenched tight around his dick, his mouth full of Trevor’s.

  “Sentimental favorite,” she said softly.

  He met her gaze in the mirror over the sink, and black diamonds glittered back at him. He was seconds away from dropping the supplies in the sink and sprinting the ten feet to her, but then she broke the heated staredown. “You still know your way around.”

  Letting her have that play, he carried the wraps and first aid supplies to the bench and crouched in front of her. “Your family doesn’t change much when it comes to police business.” She jerked her face to the side and swallowed hard, and Sean’s chest clenched for a different reason. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about Alice—why else would she react so strongly at the mention of her family’s history at the station?—but then Charlie swerved again. “You and Marsh seem close.”

  “I’ve only known him a few years. Since he was assigned to our legat office. But we’ve been through some shit together, and he was there for me when I needed a friend.” He chuckled. “I ran away from all those cowboys in Kansas City only to end up with one as my closest friend.”

  Charlie’s hand jerked in his, and Sean’s gaze shot to her face, catching the hurt expression there before she wiped it away. Only she couldn’t completely hide her curiosity. “Go ahead and ask,” he said, figuring he knew the question that would answer for both her reactions. He did not, however, figure the question would come from behind them.

  “Were the two of you ever together?” Trevor’s question—the one Charlie was too polite to ask—was punctuated by the locker room door banging closed.

  Sean shifted from his crouch to the bench beside Charlie, wanting to see them both and wanting both of them to see him, to read the sincerity and truth in his account of past events and his hope for the present direction. “Once,” he said. “The night our boss was killed in a terrorist attack. An attack that may have been averted if political bickering hadn’t tied up our funding. We were frustrated, angry, and most of all sad we’d lost a colleague and friend. We got drunk and both needed more comfort than the bottle could provide that night. That was the one and only time.”

  He was surprised when Charlie pushed back her hair and asked, “Do you want there to be more? Do we need to figure out how to make that work too?”

  “We will,” Trevor added, “if that’s what it takes to make this”—he gestured among them—“work.”

  “Do you mean that?” Sean could barely keep his seat, hope surging out to his fingers and toes, coloring his voice as well.

  Trevor’s “Yes” nearly tripped over Charlie’s, and Sean nearly tripped over himself in his haste to reach out to them. Trevor saved him the broken limbs, closing the distance and kneeling in front of him and Charlie. “We’ve got a shot here. I think we should take it, however that looks.”

  “It looks like the three of us,” Sean said. “I love Marsh, but only as a friend. Plus, he’s gay and not poly.”

  “You and he can still have a relationship,” Trevor said, proving yet again he got it and also how big his heart was. “Separate and apart from ours.”

  “If that’s what you need,” Charlie added. “This past week, having you here”—she glanced at him, then at Trevor—“feeling the connection between us again.” She swung her gaze back to Sean, her words back to their earlier conversation. “I don’t want to lose this either.”

  “We need you with us, Sean,” Trevor said. “That’s how this”—he gestured between them again—“works best.”

  “Marsh doesn’t work that way, and he deserves to be the center of someone’s world.” He notched a hand in the crook of Trevor’s neck and laid the other on Charlie’s thigh. “Like you two are of mine.”

  Trevor’s pulse kicked beneath his hand, Charlie’s thigh slid closer, and that was all the go-ahead signal Sean needed. He floored it on the next beat of their hearts, leaning to the side and slamming his mouth onto Charlie’s. All that existed, all that mattered in that moment was Charlie’s lips against his—her taste, her moan, her tongue as it dueled with his—and Trevor’s breathy moan beside them, his hand covering Sean’s on Charlie’s thigh and inching it higher. She shifted forward, her legs opening to their touch and arms opening to Trevor. Sean broke their kiss, then with his hand around Trevor’s neck, drew him to Charlie. The sigh of relief that always accompanied their first kisses found its way into Sean’s soul and settled right where it belonged. The sense of peace and belonging like nothing else he’d ever found with anyone.

  The peace, however, was snatched away too soon by footsteps in the hallway, headed in their direction. “We’ve got company,” Sean said, and Trevor and Charlie broke apart just in time to avoid another uncomfortable run-in with Rachel.

  “Charlie, you in here?” the receptionist called from the door.

  “Yeah, here.” Sean hung back with Trevor as Charlie straightened her top and poked her head around the end of the row, not that Rachel couldn’t see them over the top of the lockers, her gaze bouncing over them. “What’s up?” Charlie said, bringing Rachel’s gaze back to her.

  “Beth Martin’s in custody. Abel’s called for a victory lap at Pearl’s.” Charlie glanced over her shoulder at them, and Sean could read in her expression the same thing he was thinking. A victory lap was premature, a jinx if he were superstitious.

  “Wallace wants to celebrate being off jackass duty,” Rachel said with a smile. “Abel’s gonna have ’em shut the place down—police only—so we can relax.”

  Caution, disappointment, and duty all sped across Charlie’s face, all of which Sean felt too. He gave a reluctant nod. “Sure,” Charlie said. “We’ll meet you there.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charlie was halfway down the station’s front steps, on her way across the street to Pearl’s, a twenty-four-hour sports bar and pool hall that was a favorite of cops and college kids alike, when her sister’s car swung into one of the visitor spots in front of the station.

  “Hey, A,” Charlie greeted with a smile. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I brought another bag for Trevor.” Annie returned her hug,
then drew back with a wry grin. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sis, but you look beat.”

  Chuckling, Charlie ran her fingers through her sister’s waterfall of white-gold hair. “No offense taken. I’ll sleep better once this case is over.”

  Annie stepped away and reached into the back for another of Trevor’s duffels. “Any developments?”

  That familiar wave of guilt rose up, for worrying Annie and for not keeping her updated. “Federal marshals picked up our prime suspect in Georgia an hour ago. They’re going to drive her here in the morning.”

  “Her?”

  “Beth Martin. She teaches French at HU. Do you know her?”

  Annie shook her head. “Not personally, but I saw her around the hospital and the library from time to time. She gossiped a lot, and then a couple weeks ago, she started harassing Trace.”

  “About Julian’s affair?”

  Her sister nodded.

  A thought occurred to Charlie, a way to silence the doubt still lingering in her mind. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pull her library record. Electronic and hard copies. I want to see if she’s checked out any Shakespeare lately.”

  “I can do that,” she said. “Just get me a warrant.”

  “Will do.” Charlie grasped her sister’s free hand. “Thanks, A.”

  Annie smiled, squeezing back, but her smile disappeared, and she lifted the bag. “So Trevor doesn’t need this? Is he even here?”

  “He’s at Pearl’s with Sean.”

  Annie lifted a brow.

  “We’re talking things out,” Charlie said with a laugh. She slipped the bag from Annie’s hand. “I’ll take this. Make sure he gets it.”

  “Is he okay?” Annie asked.

  “He’s had a rough few days, but I promised him this case would be solved today, and it looks like we’re on our way.”

  “Good, I’m glad.” Annie leaned against the side of her car. “Did Sean say yet why he left? What kept him away?”

  Charlie’s smile dipped. She had hope, but she was still missing answers. She sensed Trevor had maybe a few more than her, but in the chaos of the case, some of the details between her, Sean, and Trevor had gotten lost. Details that needed to be sorted before they went any further. “We’re going to talk about that tonight,” she told Annie. “Good thing you brought this. Might turn into an all-nighter.” Red slashed across Annie’s cheekbones, and Charlie reconsidered her words. Then blushed herself. “Shit, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  Annie giggled. “You go get ’em, sis.”

  Charlie laughed out loud and threw an arm around her sister’s shoulders, kissing her temple. “You want to come to Pearl’s with us? Jaylen will be there.”

  Annie blushed harder as she pulled away. “We’ve got a date tomorrow. I think I’ll take tonight for myself.”

  “If you change your mind,” Charlie said as she tossed Trevor’s bag into the Mustang, “you know where we’ll be.”

  “Sounds good.” Annie stopped in the open doorway of her car and turned half-around, her smile gone. “We’re all we’ve got. Be good to him.”

  Before she could reply, Annie disappeared into the car, Charlie’s “Love you” lost beneath the crunch of gravel and the heavy feeling that something wasn’t quite right with her sister.

  An hour later, Charlie’s doubts had grown from a mole hill to a mountain, fretting over Annie, over risking her friendship with Trevor, over the truth about Alice’s death they needed to tell Sean, and most of all, the case and what she was increasingly sure was a premature victory lap.

  “I don’t know.” She refilled her water glass from the pitcher on the table. “It seems too easy.”

  “Easy?” Maggie scoffed from across the booth next to Rachel. “You call the past five days easy?”

  “Not at all, so why should the solution be?”

  “Sometimes the simplest solutions are the right ones,” Rachel said with a shrug.

  Charlie didn’t think so. “I just have this feeling the case is connected to my family, but before this week, I had no idea who Beth Martin was. Trevor and Annie only knew her in passing from HU, and there’s no mention of her in Dad’s or Cal’s old files.” She’d run a check through the digitized records a third time before leaving the station.

  “Your gut thinks it’s connected to your family,” Maggie corrected. “Your head just gave us all the reasons it’s likely not.”

  “The roses—”

  “Are sold at every supermarket, convenience store, and florist in town.”

  Her friend wasn’t getting it, and she desperately needed someone else to get it. She aimed her next question at Rachel. Maybe she’d be easier to sway. “What about the connections to Trevor?”

  “Trevor’s lived his whole life in Hanover,” she said. “He’s gorgeous, everyone loves him—especially after what Tracy did to him—and he’s one of HU’s most popular professors. He’s bound to have a lot of connections to people in town. It’s probably just a coincidence.” She mimicked her earlier shrug. “Simple.”

  Not getting it either. Nothing about this case was a coincidence. She was sure of that, but the only person who would believe her was playing pool with Trevor and Marsh across the bar. Resisting the urge to growl in frustration, Charlie asked another pertinent question of her less-than-cooperative audience. “What’s her motive?”

  Maggie threw up her hands, nearly hitting a passing waitress. “I don’t know. You’re the detective. I’m just the lady who hangs out in the dungeon with dead bodies.”

  “Rules,” Rachel reprimanded, even though there was no food in sight. “No more case talk, and definitely no more dead-body talk. Your suspect will be here tomorrow. You can ask her why then. For the time being, there’s nothing more you can do.”

  “Except drink.” Maggie held up her glass of whisky for a toast.

  “Hear, hear,” Rachel seconded with her own.

  Clinking her glass against theirs, Charlie nursed her water while mentally repeating her litany of issues with Beth Martin as their prime suspect, hoping something would click. Midway through her fourth repetition, Maggie asked the inevitable. “So about that Trevor and Tracy blowup at the station. I’ve heard differing accounts of what went down.”

  Setting aside her glass, Charlie propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands, mumbling behind them. “I overreacted to her accusing Trevor of cheating.”

  “He never cheated.” The volume of Maggie’s voice caused Charlie to cringe.

  She lowered her hands and dropped her forearms back to the table. “I’m not sure he convinced her of that today either, but it’s the truth. We made our case.”

  “We?” Rachel said. “Did I interrupt something in the locker room?”

  Maggie lifted a brow. “What was going on in the locker room, Henby?”

  “Sean, Trevor, and I talked about giving it another try.”

  Maggie’s “Woot!” had the whole bar looking their way.

  And Charlie tossing back the untouched shot of whisky Maggie had bought for her too.

  “So Trevor’s officially off the market?” Rachel asked, subdued compared to Maggie.

  “TBD.” Charlie lowered her voice to match, aiming to bring their conversation back into their booth instead of broadcasting to all of Pearl’s. “We need to talk. Put all our cards on the table. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sure about taking a chance on Sean again, especially with Trevor’s friendship on the line too.”

  “But you’re moving to DC with Trevor?” Rachel said, the sharp edge of impatience in her voice catching Charlie’s attention. “Sean’s overseas.”

  Charlie shook her head. “Not anymore. He’s going to be in DC too.”

  Rachel gasped and reached for her hand. “For real?”

  “Okay, look,” Maggie said, and Charlie prepared herself for the assault. Only it wasn’t the attack she’d expected. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for
years. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why Sean left and stayed away or why you and Trevor never went after him. I’ve respected your wishes to keep that to yourself, and I still mean to, but from what I’ve seen the past few days, that man is still in love with you.” Her eyes cut to Sean by the row of pool tables, his hand grazing the small of Trevor’s back. “And with your best friend.”

  “I thought you wanted me to go for it with Trevor?”

  “I did. I do. But you’re afraid that won’t work without Sean. Well, Sean’s back, and it looks like he means to stick with you two this time, and more than anything, I want you to be happy.”

  Rachel squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

  Charlie smiled, thankful for the support of her friends, but then her face fell as she thought about the hard truths she, Trevor, and Sean still needed to talk about. Including the ones connected to the case.

  “Charlie?” Rachel called, reading the rapid decline in her mood.

  “Sorry, I had another thought about the case.”

  “Stop that,” Maggie chided. “Time to switch that brain of yours off for the night.”

  Charlie went through the motions again, clinking her water glass against theirs, as she snuck a glance across the bar to where Sean and Trevor were focused on their game of pool, their fingers loosely entwined beneath the table’s rail. She hoped like hell the truth wouldn’t break all their hearts.

  Same as she’d done Sunday morning, Charlie parked her car between Sean’s bike and Trevor’s truck. Only this time she was in front of the Sand Dollar, not the station, and she was staring at room twelve with both eager anticipation and dread. The future was within their grasp, but they had to tackle the past first. Not a small feat, and rehashing painful past events would not be easy.

  The room door opened, and Trevor stood over the threshold, backlit by the lamplight. Hair down, barefoot, in jeans and a tee, he looked like home, like comfort. Those life-altering events of the past would be easier to recount with her best friend by her side. Her best friend who was on the verge of becoming something more again. Eagerness twisted with dread. She ached to love him again romantically, but she was terrified of losing anyone else she loved.