by Sara Brookes
Shame filled her, burning hot as it ate away at her arousal. “I know. I’m sorry. I want this. I want you both. I want what the three of us could make together.”
Boyce’s expression softened. “Then let us give you everything you could have ever hoped for. You’re the only one holding that reality back. The only one stopping it. Give the relationship a chance before you write it off completely. Write us off.”
“Let us protect you, Grae,” Saint added. “Let us be the ones who worry about things like that.”
“Let us love you, baby.” Hope crossed Boyce’s expression. “In every way possible.”
Grae stilled.
This was wrong. So wrong.
What she’d thought could be hers was just a temporary reprieve. A vacation. She needed to return to her real life. The one she’d been trying to get back to for the past month. The one she’d continually let the men sway her away from.
“I can’t.” She managed to extricate herself from between them, dodging their hands when they made a grab for her. “I was wrong to think I could do this. That I...that we could be normal.”
Nothing in her life could be normal.
“That’s why you left us thirteen years ago, wasn’t it?”
She averted her gaze, humiliated at the pain swimming the depths of Saint’s eyes because she knew she’d been the one to put it there. “I saw everything I wanted right before me. Knew it was mine for the taking even though I knew very little else about what I wanted out of life. I could see our futures spread out before us. And I got scared.”
She knew there was more she needed to confess, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell them what had happened with Mason and Professor Fillion. With her parents. How the shame of her actions during that time still clung to her skin like thick oil she couldn’t wash away no matter how hard she scrubbed.
Boyce touched her. “Why, sweetheart?”
She pushed aside the foul memories and focused on something else that bothered her about the acceptance of a triad relationship. “Because I want to marry you both. And I can’t. Not legally. I want your children. And while I can certainly do that, I can’t help wondering what right do we have to bring kids into a relationship as complicated as what I want with you two.”
Boyce wrapped his hand around hers, lifted their joined fingers to his mouth. “We’ll figure it out.”
She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn’t stop now that she’d unleashed the floodgates. The dam had finally cracked and everything she’d been holding back finally gushed out.
“Are you going to figure out what to say when we’re asked not to attend some parental function at school because of our alternative family? When we’re asked to leave a birthday party or a community barbecue because someone has two dads and a mom? Jesus, I can’t even deal with the pressure of feeling like everyone is judging me because I love two men. Because I’m happy loving two men. Who the hell says we have the right to do that to someone who didn’t ask for it? You both have enough to deal with in your relationship without adding me.”
Saint stepped forward, fear darkening his eyes. “Don’t shut us out, Grae. Not over things like this. We can talk. Figure it out.”
She tugged on her hand, giving Boyce a stern glare when he resisted. “I...can’t. I’m sorry.”
Boyce finally relented and released her. She used the freedom to put several feet between her and the men. If she touched them...if they touched her, she couldn’t stand it. She knew she would break.
“Don’t you understand? I have to be sorry because I’m ashamed I want these things between us.” She’d allowed someone else to make her ashamed. To judge her. And couldn’t stop believing they were right.
Saint’s expression altered, hardened. “Because you know we would strip you bare, expose every dark weakness, and push you beyond the shame that makes you keep your distance even when we’re all together.” He caught her arm as she turned. “We can talk about this. Find a middle ground.”
“Don’t you understand? I don’t want middle ground. I want it all. I want the life we all deserve, but won’t ever have.”
“Please don’t leave us,” Saint whispered, the quiet tone of it slashing across her already heavily scarred heart. “You can find what you need with us.”
“No, I can’t. You know that as well as I do.”
Saint finally released her arm—and let her go.
Chapter Twenty-One
Boyce found Grae standing next to the valet station. He smiled amicably enough to the guy waiting for Grae to make up her mind. Unwilling to let her out of his sight, Boyce slipped his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugged. “I’ll drive you back.”
“No thanks.” She attempted to wrench free, but he’d been prepared for her to try to jerk away and held fast. He’d let go before. But he wouldn’t give in now. “I’ll call a cab.”
He tightened his hold and tugged again. “I wasn’t offering an option. If you’re going to walk out on us, I’m going to damn well make sure you’re safe and sound before you break.”
“I won’t.”
“Those tears you’re holding back say differently, baby.” Boyce grunted softly and finally broke their stare. “Come on.”
* * *
Grae made it four blocks before the tears fell. Embarrassed, she kept her face turned away from Boyce. How could she have been stupid enough to finally spill her guts like she had? Jesus. She’d fallen apart like some unhinged, petulant child who wasn’t getting her way.
And in front of all those people.
Strangers. Members of Noble House who had become her friends over the past month. The only people she knew she could count on to actually accept the things she desired. The same things she knew society would scorn.
In a matter of minutes, she’d ruined her life.
Oh God.
“Seeing you happy was the only thing we ever wanted,” Boyce said quietly.
Even though she’d thought she’d already expunged everything black inside her, she narrowed her eyes as she turned to face him. “Why did you have to have some kind of psychotic break on live camera? Why the fuck didn’t you stay away from the club? I was perfectly happy back home, watching the two of you get each other off.”
“No you weren’t,” Boyce answered calmly. “Not truly. You were just existing. You need to be honest with yourself, Grae. Honest about what you really want. And until you are, you shouldn’t go back to the club.”
His statement stunned her. “Are you going to have Kochran revoke my membership?”
His gaze cut to hers for a brief second. “I’m not an asshole. Neither is Saint. You know we wouldn’t do anything of the sort. My point is that you need to take some time to get to the root of the problem. The why you can’t let yourself go. Walking away is easy, Grae. And that’s not who you are. Stay and fight. For us. For our love.”
Boyce’s words scored through her, deepening the shame welling inside her gut. She knew it was wrong. Knew it would be harder to stay. To fight. Even knew she should want that—of herself and of them.
Her toxic thoughts wouldn’t stop, eating away at her soul if she did stay, which would make leaving later even harder. If she parted from them now, they’d recover. Maybe not right away. But they’d at least have the chance. Together...they’d devour each other whole.
By leaving, she could save them all.
“I know your mind is already made up.” Boyce leaned in, disengaged the car lock, and pushed the door open. His lips brushed against hers, soft and warm. Gentle. Though he had no right to be after some of the things she’d just said to him. “Take the time, Grae. And if you still want us to be a part of your life—we will. All you have to do is ask.”
He sat back, tapping lightly against the wheel as he stared ahead. She wanted
to say something, but couldn’t think of one thing that wouldn’t make the situation even worse. Instead, she exited the car and watched until the taillights faded in the distance.
* * *
The halls of the hospice were far cheerier than the hospital Grae had first visited last month. Maybe because she was coming to drop by to see someone who had become a cherished friend instead of a stranger.
Though the colors were still done in shades of pastels, these were bright and lively. The strong aroma of disinfectant was just as prevalent as at the hospital, but someone had taken great effort in placing scent warmers in various spots.
Grae had intended to leave immediately after the ball, when Boyce had driven her back to the hotel. But leaving without saying goodbye to Tory seemed wrong. When Grae pushed open the door, the first thing she noticed was the frail figure lying on the bed. Tory looked wan and thin, dark circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating.
The second thing Grae noticed was the sleeping woman perched on the edge of a chair positioned next to Tory’s bed, her head cradled in her arms on the mattress beside Tory’s hip. The same chair Grae had spent many hours curled in watching bad television. Tory had shared her wicked fascination with poorly produced black-and-white movies.
The woman’s dark blonde hair was swept back from her face in an artful style that somehow managed to look perfect and messy at the same time. Her white collared shirt appeared to have been heavily starched, and as Grae stepped around the bed, she noticed the rich brown pencil skirt and sensible heels.
Unwilling to disturb them, Grae turned to examine the bright sheets of paper covering the walls. Like the hospital, someone had taken great care masking the plain, utilitarian walls with shiny paper.
“Kochran puts that up. Says it will remind Tory she’s really a mermaid living under the sea. That she’ll have a home waiting for her when she has to leave us.” Grae turned to find the woman’s gaze assessing her. “Can you get some water from the bathroom? She’s been thirsty today, and I’ve been reluctant to leave her for even a second.”
Grae took the empty pitcher, refilled it, and returned. “I can come back later.”
“Don’t. Please. I could use a little company while she’s sleeping.” The woman’s gaze passed over Tory’s frail form. “I’ve known the Duke family for a long time. Used to live across the street from them. Tory and I graduated a year apart.”
The way the woman stroked her fingers through Tory’s thinning hair certainly spoke toward a familiarity and friendship. But Grae sensed something more. Something that reached further, deeper, than a simple long-standing friendship.
“She doesn’t want others to know how much pain she’s in,” the woman continued. “She tries to put on a brave face, but...I apologize. I’m rambling.”
“That’s all right.” Grae could sympathize. The woman looked as though she’d been caring for Tory for quite some time and could use a friendly ear to listen. “This isn’t a typical situation. So it’s good to talk about it.”
“Better than pretending it’s the elephant in the room.”
“You aren’t rambling to the nurse again, are you?” Tory’s voice cracked as she asked.
“No. I was talking to...crap, I’m sorry.” The woman gestured to Grae. “I never introduced myself or asked your name. I’m Adelita Husk. Charlie is my sister. I think you met her about a month ago. She’s the lead singer of Kochran’s band.”
“Charlene? Right, I remember her. She’s a good singer. Grae Burrows. I know Tory through some of Kochran’s friends.” Grae couldn’t bring herself to mention the men by name. She was holding things together by a very thin thread as it was.
“Grae is a superhero in the movies.” Tory’s voice was hushed, rough.
Adelita glanced at Grae, then back again. “Do tell.”
As Tory told Adelita about the kind of work Grae did, the list of movies she’d worked on, Grae noticed the two women had linked their fingers. Now Grae really felt like an interloper. And felt bad for interrupting their time together since it was so precious. Funny how she’d developed a knack for that lately.
When the rundown of her various movie projects ended, Grae stood. “I just thought I’d stop by for a few minutes.”
“You came by for a reason.”
Though Tory was weak, she still knew how to pack a hell of a glare. “How are you feeling today?”
“Same old, same old.”
Grae swallowed, knowing she could only put off the inevitable for so long. “I came to say goodbye.”
Tory’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You know something I don’t?”
Grae smiled. “It’s time for me to go back home. I’ve been away long enough.”
Tory sat up suddenly, leaning on Adelita for support. “You left them again, didn’t you? Why?”
Grae cut her gaze away, ashamed Tory could read her so easily. It made sense. Grae had talked about them enough while sitting in this very room. Confessed her reasons for leaving the first time. “Far too many reasons to worry over. Things are what they are.”
“I know what they aren’t too. And whatever this is about, you aren’t happy.”
Grae shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m not sure I ever will be. My heart and my head disagree on what they want. And I’m not certain I want to live my life in a state of constant tug-of-war like that.” Not again. She’d been down that path once. Been determined she was going to live so that others would be proud of her. But that was never going to happen. She’d thought she could get past the crap from her senior year at college, but she’d just been fooling herself.
“At least you have the choice.”
“I know.” Grae looked between the women. “It’s selfish of me to talk about this. Especially when Adelita is here to spend time with you, not listen to us fight.”
“No, it’s not selfish. Don’t you pull that bullshit with me. We’re friends. We talk about uncomfortable shit. I came to terms with how things were going to be for me a long time ago. I knew I would never be able to marry Adelita or have kids with her, because I wasn’t going to stick her with a terminally ill, barren woman who was going to die on her in a few years. But you know what, she’s here. She’s with me. She sits and watches me die a little each day because she chose that path. Though I’m not quite sure why things played out like they did, it’s the hand I was dealt. I could either be angry or get over it and enjoy the things I do have. My family. My friends. Adelita.”
Tory’s words made Grae feel two inches tall. But feelings couldn’t always be controlled. “What if I can’t get over it?”
“Then you have to be willing to accept the consequences of that choice. I chose not to go out all drugged up and stupid. So I’m in pain. But you know what? That pain means I’m still alive. When I’m not feeling anything anymore...that’s when it’s over.”
“Tory, you need to calm down and rest.”
Tory scowled at her girlfriend. “You talk some sense into her fool head.”
Adelita took Grae by the arm and guided her out of the room. Though Grae didn’t know the woman, she felt her stern glare. Shame washed through Grae, heating her stomach and causing the lunch she’d grabbed at a fast food joint on the drive over to slosh around uncomfortably.
“I know we don’t know each other, and I’ve got no right to say what I’m about to, but being around Tory since she was diagnosed has loosened my tongue a little. It’s also made me a little less likely to keep my thoughts to myself regardless of what people think.” The grip Adelita held on Grae’s elbow eased. “I don’t know exactly what is going on between you and whoever Tory is talking about, but what I do know is that my girlfriend is going to die. Sure, we all are. But she’s not going to make it to see her birthday in a few months. So she’s pissed that you’re squandering an oppor
tunity she would gladly have. She can’t have her happily ever after.”
Grae looked at her curiously. “And she thinks I’m walking away from mine.”
“From what I can tell, she believes it with all her heart. It may be faulty, but she’s got more love in her than most of us can ever hope for.”
“I’m sorry.” Grae averted her gaze from Adelita as she stepped out of reach. “I wish I could say it’s just that easy. That I throw up my hands and say fuck all the issues. But I can’t. It’s not that easy.”
“Nothing good ever came from doing something easy.” Adelita folded her arms and slipped back into Tory’s room without saying anything more.
She didn’t need to.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Grae jumped as the dulcet tones of the doorbell resonated through her house. As the melody died, she sniffed, wiping the tissue she’d nearly shredded under her nose. She wasn’t interested in answering or seeing who was trying to pay her a visit. It had been two weeks since the fetish ball. Two weeks since she’d walked out on them again. In her fucked-up fantasy world, Saint and Boyce would be waiting on her small front porch. Ready to convince her how foolish she was being. How unrealistic. To beg her to come home with them.
But fantasy hadn’t gotten her anywhere. She was better off living inside the fictional world she created for audiences worldwide. At least that kind of false hope wouldn’t disappoint her. She could hardly screw that up. Sure, she may be miserable with her choice to leave the men, but at least she knew now that the life she’d always wanted would have to stay a fantasy. Before this whole ordeal, her house had always been her sanctuary, her refuge. Now she hated it.
She hadn’t even touched her computer since she’d returned. As though the reminder she didn’t need the home office to carry out her work was too much to bear.
Whoever coined the phrase reality sucks didn’t know the half of it.
