Sweet Bitter Honey

by Liz Crowe

  Ryan sat up, his face burning. “What?”

  “Yeah, she put in her resignation yesterday. I thought you knew.” Quinn’s voice trailed off. “Well, anyway…”

  “Exactly. I gotta go.” He tossed the phone down on the table and waited a half second before bellowing out that asshole kid’s name who was eyeballing his woman.

  Hold up, Shannon. Not your woman. Not anymore.

  Fuck it.

  “Hey, Roberts! Get your ass back here and show me how you jacked up my fermentation log with your bullshit entries.”

  The kid scurried back to him. Lynette met Ryan’s gaze for a few seconds then turned away. The rest of the day was a blur of work, avoidance, checking on the Sweet Bitter Honey, which was in secondary fermentation and smelled heavenly.

  He suddenly wished Cole were here, sticking his nose in the beaker of rich red, honey-infused brew. Fury washed over him. He dropped a beaker of the brew into the sink, watched in shatter into a zillion pieces before he stomped out of the brewery, out to his truck and pointed it toward home. He touched the quick dial on his steering wheel and smiled when Jamie’s voice filled the cab. “Hi, Daddy. Can we go swimming? Tracey said we could.”

  “How about this, buddy—how about I pick you up early, like now, and we not only go swimming, we get ice cream for dinner?”

  “Yay, Daddy! Ice cream for dinner!” The kid dropped the phone with a clatter that echoed around in Ryan’s ears a second until he realized Jamie had forgotten to hang up. He set his jaw. Time with his son had been rare lately. He’d been so focused on his own selfish needs.

  This was good—getting him back on track, thinking about what was really important, like his family or what was left of it. Without fully acknowledging that he considered both Cole and Lynette as family, he cranked the radio and ignored the throbbing empty space in his soul—where he’d had true happiness once and managed to toss it away.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lynette watched Ryan stomp out of the brewery after letting a beaker of her namesake brew shatter in the large sink. She gulped and had to grip the leg of a tall fermentation vessel to keep from running after him. She missed him so much. They’d developed such a great working camaraderie both before and after climbing into each other’s pants. She cursed herself for letting it get too personal. Plus, bonus, she was on fire with lack of attention, that much was certain.

  Her hormones were like a roiling stew, making her hot, cold, ecstatic and irrationally furious in turns. The doctor said that she should be able to hear a heartbeat at her visit in about two weeks and the crippling nausea had ended, leaving a void of horny energy she had a tough time dispelling alone.

  She sighed and leaned her head against the cool metal. She had to leave, even though she was worried about her new insurance plan covering what would be a fairly obvious pre-existing condition. Now that all the doctor visits, hospitals and shit were mapped out in front of her, it made her a more than a little breathless. It was an expensive thing, this pregnancy, and at the end of it she’d have a child to support.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried not to call Ryan, but she wanted to hear his voice so badly, to relay this mess, get his advice. Anything. But he’d made it clear that her getting pregnant was the end of his interest in her, period. And Cole still wouldn’t respond, no matter what she did.

  She had talked to Audrey and Quinn, but even they had no explanation for the full shutdown that Cole had embraced. Maybe if she told him the truth, that she was still pregnant, it might help. She shook her head. No, this was her issue now, not anyone else’s.

  A tiny voice of reason reminded her that she could tell him, should probably let him know and that would likely break down his new emotional stronghold, the one that resisted both her and Ryan. But her stubborn streak clicked in, prohibiting it.

  While she stood pondering her dilemma, her phone buzzed with a call from Audrey. “Hi, how’s the baby farm?” she asked. Audrey had been a good friend through all of this, but even she couldn’t convince her brother to let Lynette back in his life.

  “Oh, fine, smells like puke and shit, and I don’t think I’ve had a shower in about a week. But, you know, great. Listen, I just dropped Cole off at his new place. I left him there because he wanted to be alone, but…”

  “I’m not going to his house, Audrey. He doesn’t want to see me any more than Ryan does.”

  “Sweetie, you aren’t trying hard enough. Those boys may think they are stubborn alpha males, but I think you need to take over, show them you know what’s best. I swear you guys could make it work.”

  “No.” Lynette leaned back against the fermenter.

  Audrey’s silence filled the space in her head. Lynette cleared her throat. “What about…you know, the dog thing?”

  Audrey sighed. Lynette heard a small cry. “The trainer was there with the new dog and Cole actually seemed glad, willing to listen and learn this time. Because of his history, the Purple Heart and all that, he got pulled ahead for a new program, one that actually supports vets and their service dogs. It’s a girl dog this time. Daisy.”

  “Oh, well, that’s…”

  “Yeah, I gotta go handle some kind of baby disaster, but I wanted you to know that he’s there, and I think he misses you, a lot. The trainer is also a veteran, so Cole’s probably getting whipped into shape on many levels right about now.”

  Lynette ran a hand over her eyes. “I’m glad for him. He needs this. I miss him, so much.” Her heart ached with remorse. If asked right then, she wouldn’t even be able to enunciate which ‘him’ she meant. She’d give anything to see them both, hold them, let them hold her and soothe some of the near constant anxiety out of her.

  But it was too late. Between the three of them, there was just too much stubborn bullshit. It wasn’t worth the effort. It would never work. Their own personalities and issues and society’s inability to accept a true polyamorous relationship precluded any sort of serious domestic arrangement. It would likely be more of what they’d had already—intermittent blazing hot sex, interspersed with long periods of time apart pretending that they were just fuck buddies.

  “Oh, honey,” Audrey said. “I know you do, but this is up to you now. Take control and don’t let the men ruin everything. Okay?”

  “Okay. Maybe. Probably not.” She rubbed her side, which had been aching in yet another weird way, like everything about her lately.

  * * * *

  The next few weeks flew by and before she knew it Lynette could sense her body change, adjust. Every time she brushed the small hard bump under her shirt, she couldn’t help but smile. She’d ended up turning down the Ford marketing job and had told Quinn and Audrey the truth about the baby, but had threatened them within an inch of their lives if they told either of their brothers anything more than the bare facts.

  Besides, Ryan had gone out of his way to avoid her for weeks. They barely communicated, leaving their assistants to handle the sales meetings for them.

  According to Audrey, Cole had been whipped into shape by his new dog trainer who practically lived at his new house. Audrey claimed it was the best possible thing for him.

  “I wish you would just go see him and tell about the baby,” Audrey said during their weekly catch-up phone call.

  “Well, I might. I don’t know. Something is holding me back.” Lynette had looked down when her phone dinged with a new incoming call. Cole’s number flashed, making her breathless. “Uh, he’s calling me now.”

  “Good, go, make up to him and Ryan. You have to fix it, Lynette. Otherwise, it will never happen. You know that.”

  Her heart stuttered at the sight of his name on her phone’s screen. She would never in a million years admit it to anyone, but she missed her men, both of them, so much she cried herself to sleep almost every night, like the lame, weepy, knocked-up woman she was. The thought of life without them, even as complicated as it was together, made her miserable. But she was damned if she could figure out how t
o fix it now, with so much water under the bridge and time spent not communicating.

  She clicked over to Cole’s call without another word. “Hi,” she said.

  “Oh, uh, hey.”

  “Did you butt dial me or what?” She tried to keep it casual, but the sound of his deep voice made her break out in a chill.

  “No.” The silence spun out. Lynette let it. “I got a package. And, um, was wondering if you’d help me with it.”

  “A package? What are you talking about?” She pushed herself away from her desk.

  “A box came in the mail, about a foot square. I had the postman read me the return address. I think…” His voice broke. Lynette was instantly on the alert. “I think it’s from Dan’s mother.”

  “I’ll be right over.” She tossed her stuff in the car then called Audrey.

  “What’s Cole’s new address?”

  “Thank God!” Audrey said and gave it to her before hanging up.

  She pulled up in the driveway of a tidy-looking brick ranch house, complete with a ramp, rails and all sorts of things indicating accessibility. It was nestled in a tree-lined neighborhood of similar-sized homes, the streets and sidewalks full of little kids riding bikes, skateboarding or playing in sprinklers. She got out, took a breath and walked to the door. It opened before she could knock. Cole was there, holding his sunglasses. The new dog stood next to him, tongue lolling out, but he wasn’t holding on to her. “Aw, look at this one.” She crouched down and let the dog lick her face. “She’s pretty, Cole. What’s her name?”

  “Daisy,” he said, his jaw clenched. “And trust me, we are bonded, thanks to the hard-ass ex-Marine who trained us.”

  “Relax, honey, it’s okay.” She put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, so she took it off. “Where’s the package?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Ryan laughed when Jamie ran for the pool, arms and legs pumping. He jumped, scattering a few families that were already there. “Sorry.” Ryan slipped in and grabbed the kid before he drowned. They splashed around, threw a Frisbee, played Marco Polo and variations on that annoying theme for a couple of hours.

  Ryan had made a point to do this weekly now, after their first impromptu swim a few weeks ago. He was determined to at least get this part of his life right—the part where he was a half-decent father to his son.

  A harsh conversation with none other than his own mother, the usually supportive Moira, ghosted through his brain. He’d been sitting late at night, sucking back bourbon and wondering if he’d ever feel good about anything again, when she’d called. He’d grabbed the phone at the sight of her name, thinking some one of their many aunts, uncles or cousins were dead, given the usual nature of her late-night calls. She’d been staying with Quinn and Audrey a few days, taking her turn at holding one twin infant while the other one got fed.

  “Ryan James Shannon,” she’d began right away, making him wince and wish he’d ignored her call. “I did not raise you to be this person.”

  “Ma,” he said, biting down on a bourbon-infused ice cube and staring back out into the night sky. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Don’t you talk back to me, young man.” Something in her voice made him sit up straight, put the booze glass down and pay attention. “I just had a very distressing conversation with your brother and I want you to tell me just one thing.”

  He let the silence expand and fill the space where he should be answering her, like he’d been raised, as she liked to remind him. But his throat hurt, his head pounded and he was suddenly propelled straight back to that moment when the doctor had handed him his son. His heart pounded and his skin got clammy. He stood up and paced.

  “Did you break up with that lovely girl because she was pregnant?”

  “Um, huh?” This was not what he was expecting.

  “And that young man, Audrey’s brother, why aren’t you talking to him? He is a wounded soul, Ryan, and if what I am hearing about you is correct, you not only walked out on Lynette, you left Cole behind, too, for reasons I refuse to accept.”

  Ryan made a mental note to kick Quinn’s ass for spilling his secrets. One thing he’d always wondered was how he could possibly explain the nature of an honest to God three-way relationship to the woman whose opinion he valued above all others. And now, apparently, his do-no-wrong brother had done it for him.

  “Ryan, love.” His mother’s voice softened, making him tense because he knew that meant harsh words were imminent. “I realize you’ve had a hard go of it. You put so much of yourself into being an athlete, and I let all those coaches convince me to let you do it, to focus on nothing but that for so many years. Then, when it was taken from you, you did exactly like I feared you would. You collapsed and became a shell of the man you could be. Then, God brought you a son, our sweet boy Jamie, and you returned home, and…” She paused for a breath and Ryan resisted the urge to be a cynic about ‘God bringing him a son,’ knowing that would be the wrong move at this point.

  “Oh, Ryan.” He could tell she was near tears, which she had used so much in his life to exacerbate the guilt she could lay thicker than mortar. “I don’t pretend to understand you and the choices you make with…men. I love you more than life, and I want you to be happy. But you are being a right arsehole now, and I will be damned if I’ll let you.”

  “But, Mom, you don’t understand.”

  “I do understand one thing. You must make this right. At least agree to talk with these people. Don’t pull away, turn in on yourself like you do, not now. They need you.”

  “No, Ma, they’re just fine without me. Besides I’m got Jamie to focus on and the brewery and—”

  “Ryan.” Her voice was sharp and angry and strange to his ears. “I know you’re trying to be a good father, and I love you for that, but there are more people in this equation now, partially thanks to you. Quinn tells me you were the catalyst for the…um…relationship and the one who ended it, for reasons no one understands other than to say ‘oh, you know Ryan can’t take the responsibility or the pressure.’ And that, young man, I will not accept about you. Not anymore.”

  Ryan rubbed his eyes, sat and stared around the pool, letting his mother’s words poke holes in his psyche. She was right, but he had no idea what do to about it. Shit just happened to him, he justified. Cole had been in his path one day and so he’d acted on it. Lynette had appeared in his life and so he’d done the same with her. She’d suggested making it three, so he’d facilitated it.

  And now?

  Now, it was up to him. He had to fix it. But terror coated his brain. Fear that they would reject him and that it could be too late paralyzed him. And that, ladies and gents, is Ryan Shannon in a nutshell it seemed—the reactor, the non-actor, the passive grown man with a son and an empty bed and heart.

  He tried not to groan aloud when he flopped back onto the lounge chair, listening to Jamie’s delighted squeals while he raced around the sandpit with some buddies.

  Ryan brooded and glared at the happy family groups. He was such a shithead. Such a loser. He’d clutched happiness in both hands and had tossed away—why exactly? Because life hadn’t gone like he’d planned? Because Lynette had forgotten birth control once? He’d used the people he loved, made them feel like…what had she called them? Right, playthings. Making up rules he got to break to keep the equilibrium of their triangle to his liking.

  He sat back up, watching his son scamper around the other, larger boys. Poor kid—stuck with a single dad who barely knew the first thing about raising children, other than making sure he had a good breakfast. He dreaded the coming years—the adolescent angst, girlfriends, underage drinking or pot smoking or whatever the fuck it was teenagers did.

  He sank back, putting an arm over his eyes. Visions shot across his brain—Lynette, their first time together, the amazing feel of her body against and around his. Her soft lips, sweet smell, crazy laugh and bizarre sense of humor.

  Jesus, he missed her. And not just the sex, either, althoug
h lack of that had turned him into an adolescent with a boner anytime he saw her. He loved how great she was with Jamie. How she fit in pretty much any place or situation she found herself. Jamie kept asking for her, too, which was annoying, since Ryan had no decent answer or excuse about her absence.

  And Cole—Ryan winced, thinking of his handsome face, deep voice, tough-shit demeanor and his hard, rough, masculine physique, hotter than anyone had a right to be. The few times they’d fought had been epic, but they had matching temperaments and when the three of them were together, it was indescribable and sublime—and he fucking wanted it back. Permanently. He didn’t care who knew or disapproved.

  He was nearly forty years old, a single parent, and he was lonely. He’d been proactive about the sex part. It was time to get his shit together and work for the emotional connection he knew he wanted. He jerked up, realizing he must have dozed, unnerved by a shout to his left, his dad radar homing in on the noise.

  He shielded his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. The group of boys that had just been in the sandpit was gone. The swimming area was fenced in, so it wasn’t like they could get out anywhere or anything. He heard the shout again, this time around back, at the snackbar. He jumped to his feet, his vision tunnelling. Something was seriously wrong and he sensed it. Rounding the corner, he saw a group of kids in a circle, and several moms with phones to their ears, looking frantic. He sought out Jamie’s bright blue trunks in the group, his brain absolutely refusing to take in what his eyes showed him. His boy was the one on the concrete encircled by other kids, his face ashen grey, his small body completely still.

  “Hey, there he is! Mr. Shannon, something’s wrong with Jam—”

  Ryan pushed past the pimply teenaged lifeguard and jerked the boy into his lap. “Somebody call…” His voice faded when he realized his son wasn’t breathing.

  An older lifeguard grabbed Jamie, laid him on the grass nearby and started administering CPR. Ryan sat, incredulous, unable to process it. The mothers were fluttering around. “Did he choke? What did he eat? Is he allergic to anything?”