Brothers Next Door: A MFM Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  The line went dead, and silence fell over the room. We don’t have answers yet, but it’s progress. I take a deep breath for the first time in hours and hand Brenna a cup of lukewarm coffee.

  “This is good news. We’re close to finding him,” I say. “Trevor is the best in the business.”

  Brenna nods and takes the cup. “I shouldn’t have given him that money. I’m such an idiot. This is all my fault. I’m not prepared for this. Why did my mother think I could take care of Landon by myself?”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Tyler says. He strokes her chin and slides his hand up her jawline to cradle her face. “This isn’t your fault,” he repeats.

  “You’re fantastic with Landon. He’s lucky to have you,” I add. “And you’re not alone. You have us. We’re here for you and Landon.”

  The phone rings again before she can respond.

  “He bought a ticket back home,” Trevor announces. “The flight landed thirty minutes ago. I’ve already alerted airport security and the local police.”

  Brenna throws herself into Tyler's arms and lets out a gut-wrenching sob. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Just sit tight, and I’ll make sure he gets home safe.”

  Like a balloon deflating, all the nervous energy and tension leaves the room in a rush. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. I sink down on the sofa beside Brenna and hold her hand as we wait for more news.

  Ten minutes into our vigil, the front door opens, and Landon strolls in as if he’d just been out at the movies.

  “What are you doing up?” he asks, looking around the room. “And what are Dean and Tyler doing here?”

  Relief that he’s home is quickly replaced with anger. I stand up, shaking, and point an accusing finger at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

  To his credit, Landon looks appropriately guilty. I’m about ready to give him the benefit of doubt. Maybe this was all a big mistake, and he feels bad. But then like any angry teenager is want to do, he straightens and cops an attitude.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. The trip was lame, and I wanted to come home.” He rolls his eyes at us and storms down the hall back to his room.

  The nerve of that kid. I can’t believe what I just heard. I move to follow him, but Brenna is already in pursuit.

  “This conversation is not done,” she yells at his retreating form.

  I turn to look at Tyler, who’s just as shell-shocked as I am.

  “Were we like that?” he asks.

  “I wasn’t,” I assure him. “But you were a privileged prick. I’m glad you grew out of it.”

  He looks like he wants to argue, but we both know it’s true. Silently, I apologize to both our parents; raising teenagers can’t be easy.

  “You should probably make more coffee while I call Trevor and update him,” Tyler says with a shake of his head. “I have a feeling the night is just getting started.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  TYLER

  Dean finishes up his call with Trevor and fills me in on the details. We can expect a visit from our friendly neighborhood police officer any minute. Even though Landon ended up home and safe, they still have to file a report.

  “Can’t that wait until morning?” I ask.

  Down the hall, a door slams, reverberating around the apartment. Brenna pounds on the door and screams at Landon to let her in.

  I let out a sigh and rub the back of my neck. “We’re all exhausted. And the last thing we need is to add a cop to this mix.”

  “You’re making a big deal out of this,” Landon screams back through the door. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired, and I just want to go to sleep!”

  “I always thought I would want kids someday, but now I’m rethinking that idea,” Dean says with a shake of his head.

  An image of Brenna, round with our baby, flashes in my mind. Kids have never been on my radar, but suddenly, the idea doesn’t sound crazy. A primal, masculine urge washes over me and wells in my chest. I want this. I want the late nights and colic. I want the teething and scraped knees. I even want the slammed doors and yelling.

  All of it with Brenna and with Dean by my side. He’s been my partner during so many of our big life changes. I can’t imagine doing this without him.

  “What are you grinning about?” Dean asks. “Are you having a stroke? Cause that would just make this night complete.”

  I can’t hold back my laugh. Even with all this mess we still have to sort out, I’m fucking happier than I’ve ever been.

  “Why don’t you use your lawyer magic and deal with the cops when they get here?” I say, slapping him on the shoulder as I pass. “I’m going to try to de-escalate the situation in the back before Brenna strangles Landon.”

  At the back of the apartment, Brenna is pressed up against the door trying to yell over the blaring music on the other side. I lay a hand on her back, letting her know I’m here to help. But she turns, her cheeks stained red with anger, and shoots me a look that gives me pause. There’s a fire in those gorgeous blue eyes, and she directs it all my way. Maybe getting between her and Landon isn’t the best idea.

  Thankfully, whatever malicious act she is contemplating is dismissed, and she runs into my arms.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she says, burying her face in my chest.

  “Did he say why he left like that?” I ask. “I thought he’d been looking forward to this trip.”

  She shrugs and lets out a long sigh. “He won’t talk to me.”

  I check out the lock on his door. It’s a pretty standard interior lock. All I need is a paperclip, and I would be able to find out myself.

  “Hey, baby, why don’t you wait with Dean? The police are on their way, and they’ll need to talk to you. I’ll talk to Landon.”

  Brenna drops her head back to my chest and sniffs. It breaks my heart to see her so defeated.

  “Don’t worry. Dean will handle everything.” I cup her chin and force her to look up at me. “Trust us. We love you. Anything you need; we’re here for you. Even helping you deal with a moody teenage boy. I used to be one of those. Remember?”

  Her lips twitch into a half-smile, and she nods. “Thank you,” she says.

  I kiss the top of her head and step away. “I’ve got this,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

  After searching the home office for a paperclip—I can’t believe it was that hard to find one—I manage to pop the lock. Upon opening the door, I’m engulfed in a sea of electro-trance club music that sounds like the same three notes on repeat. Landon is on his bed texting on his phone and hasn’t even noticed I’ve broken in. I use that to my advantage and cross the room to turn of the headache-inducing music.

  Silence washes over the room and Landon shoots up from his bed. “What are you doing?”

  “We need to talk,” I say and sit in a chair across from the bed.

  “This has nothing to do with you. I don’t understand why you are even here,” he says, throwing some serious shade my way.

  I let the comment go and cross my arms. “Your sister is important to me,” I say. “But she wasn’t the only one worried about you. We’re friends. It would kill me to see something happen to you.”

  He at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

  “There was nothing to worry about. I know how to get myself from one place to another,” he insists. “When mom and dad were alive, I used to go places by myself all the time, and no one cared. Just this summer, I flew to Chicago and back by myself to go to a concert. I’m not a little kid.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I knew his parents were gone a lot, but I had no idea how bad it had gotten. If those self-centered bastards were still alive, I’d kick the shit out of them.

  “I know that you’re not a little kid, but something could have happened. The driver could have been in an accident. Your plane could have been rerouted due to weather. Hell, you could have slipped on some i
ce and cracked your skull open,” I tell him, trying to break through the attitude. “Your sister loves you and was worried sick.”

  “Brenna doesn’t even know me,” he says flatly. “I already told her, she doesn’t need to worry about me.”

  It looks like attachment issues run in the family. Just like Brenna, Landon is stubborn and independent to a fault. But he needs to realize that he’s not in this alone anymore. There are people in his life that care about him.

  Knowing exactly how that conversation would likely go, I decide to come at it from a different angle.

  “I thought you wanted to go on this trip. Why did you hop a plane and come home?” I ask.

  Landon glances down at his phone, out the window, takes a real interest in the hardwood floors—basically, he looks everywhere, but at me. I wait. I’m sure he’s going to give me another bullshit answer when he surprises me.

  “I didn’t want to go,” he starts, “But there was this girl…”

  Of course. Almost every young man has a tale of misadventure that starts out with “there was this girl.” I sit back and wait for more, because I know there’s a lot more to this story.

  “Wendy March,” he says with a mix of longing and bitterness. “She goes to my school and is in the band. When she found out I play the guitar, she asked me to join the jazz ensemble. Their last guitar player broke his arm, and they had this contest coming up. I didn’t want to join the band, but she said that if I joined, we could hang out more.”

  I wish Dean was here because I’m not ready to give the old birds and bees talk. I know that Landon is old enough to know the basics, but there are things you just can’t learn from the internet—like how to spot a girl who’s trying to manipulate you. The poor kid didn’t have a chance.

  “So you joined the band to spend more time with this girl? How’d that work out?”

  “We’ve been dating ever since,” he says, smugly.

  “You’ve been dating?” I ask, sensing a but coming on.

  “Yeah. We meet up online and play Xbox. Sometimes we go to the movies. She was my girlfriend.” He shoots me a “Duh” look, and I immediately feel better.

  Landon goes back to studying his phone, and the silence between us stretched out. I don’t want to push him too hard, but I know there’s still more to this story.

  “So what happened with this girl that made you want to come home?” I ask.

  He tosses the phone back to the bed, and I catch a glimpse of a young brunette girl with glasses. “Or at least, she was my girlfriend. She kissed Jonathan Brooks in the back of the bus. When I confronted her, she broke up with me. She said I was smothering her—whatever that means. I was only in that stupid band because of her. There was no way I was going to stay for the rest of the week.”

  My heart aches for him. That first sting of heartbreak is always the hardest. I know what he did was stupid and reckless, but I kind of want to cut the kid a break.

  “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave, but you still shouldn’t have disappeared like that. Your sister was sick with worry. You could have just called one of us. We would have made arrangements to get you home.”

  “We?” he asks, scrunching his face. “Why are you here again? You and Dean? I thought he was dating Brenna, but then we’ve been having dinner with you lately. Are you dating Brenna now?”

  This is not a conversation I’m prepared to have. I flick my eyes to the door, willing Brenna to come back. We haven’t talked about who we’re going to tell or what exactly we’re going to say.

  So instead, I try to sidestep the issue with a classic subject change. “I’m sorry about Wendy. Girls at your age are still trying to figure things out. I know it feels like the end of the world, but give it a few years. There will be other girls. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to date as you get older. And trust me, it does get better.”

  “Are you giving dating advice to my twelve-year-old brother?” Brenna asks from the hall.

  Figures. I could have used her a few seconds earlier. “It’s practical advice,” I say.

  Brenna, obviously still pissed, crosses her arms over her chest. “Your dating clinic is going to have to wait. The police are here, and they need to speak with Landon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  BRENNA

  It’s almost four in the morning when the police finally leave. They asked the same questions half a dozen times. Why did he leave the trip? Did anyone else help him? Was I aware of his plans? Why did I give him so much cash? And twelve different variations of those same questions until Dean, the Lawyer, stepped in and basically kicked them out.

  “We’re going to have to report this to Child Protective Services,” the cop said in the hallway. Perfect.

  “It’s just a formality,” Dean says, quickly.

  His reassurance rings hollow, and I have the sudden urge to scream at him. There are too many variables in this situation to know anything for certain. “What happens if they decide I’m not a fit guardian? Where will Landon go? I’m the only family he has left.”

  “That will never happen,” Tyler says. “This wasn’t even your fault. He was on a school trip. If anything, the cops should investigate the chaperone.”

  “Well that jackass cop sure thought it was my fault,” I say, pointing to the closed door. “What if they revoke my custody? Will he end up in foster care? A group home?” A fresh wave of panic fills my chest. Followed by a fierce protective surge of adrenalin that sends my brain into overdrive. I start making contingency plans. “I won’t let that happen. We have money. I’ll take them to court. I’ll flee the country if I have to.”

  “Slow down. There’s no need to plan a midnight dash across the border just yet,” Dean says and pulls me into his arms. “I’ve got a friend who specializes in family law. I’ll go upstairs and get her number. I’ll call her tonight and get an appointment for tomorrow. We can handle this. But right now, you need to get some sleep.”

  He turns to Tyler, and they have another one of their silent conversation. At this point, it just irritates me further.

  “You go ahead,” Tyler says. “I’ll get her all tucked into bed and be up in a sec.”

  I pull out of Dean's arms and glare at my guys. Deep down I know the adrenaline that’s still coursing through my veins is largely responsible for my anger, but that realization doesn’t stop the words that tumble out of my mouth. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? I’m not a fragile doll that needs to be handle with kid gloves. I don’t want to be put to bed so the menfolk can handle my problem.”

  “No one said you couldn’t handle this.” Dean glances over to Tyler, confusion written all over his face. “But you don’t have to handle this alone. I thought after this weekend you understood that. This isn’t a casual thing for either of us. This isn’t just your problem anymore. It’s our problem—all three of us. So we need to handle it like a team.”

  “Dean is a lawyer for fuck’s sake. Let him handle the legal side of things. And I have plenty of friends down at city hall. I can call in a few favors if we need it. And you,” Tyler steps forward and kisses me on the top of my head, “you need to have a talk with Landon. He needs boundaries, but he also needs to know you’re not going anywhere.”

  “But not tonight,” Dean says. “You’re both angry and exhausted. I figured that conversation would probably go a lot better once you both have a good night’s sleep. If you want to do it now, we’ll—”

  “No, you’re right,” I say, interrupting him.

  I know he’s right. They’re only trying to help. Since this whole nightmare began, both of them have been there for me, providing exactly the kind of help I needed. And instead of being grateful, I’ve turned into the world’s biggest bitch. At this point, I just want to crawl into bed, safe between my two guys, and sleep for a few hours.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. We’re all exhausted. Landon is already in bed. Let’s just go to bed and deal with this in the morning.”

 
“Don’t apologize. We’ve all had a long night,” Dean says and pulls me back into his arms for another hug.

  With all the fight in me gone, I let myself sink into the warmth. My eyes slide shut and I let out a long, exhausted breath. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have not one, but two caring men in my life.

  I’m literally on the verge of falling asleep standing when Dean scoops up my limp body and passes me to Tyler. I grumble something about being manhandled and burrow deeper into his arms. The deep rumble of Tyler’s laugh vibrates against my cheek, and I let my eyes slide shut, content knowing that whatever tomorrow brings, they’ll be there for me.

  I swear I’d just closed my eyes when the sounds of loud male voices coming from the front of the apartment wake me. Pale morning light is streaming in through the windows.

  The only thing I want to do is roll over and go back to sleep. My head is pounding, my eyes sore and swollen, and to my disappointment, I’m completely alone. I don’t even remember getting in bed last night, let alone taking off my clothes. I glance around the room. Said clothing is neatly folded and stacked on the nightstand. I check out the bed. Except for where I’d been curled up asleep, the covers and pillows are undisturbed.

  Neither of the guys came to bed last night.

  Or did they go home?

  We still haven’t talked about how we’re going to handle this new relationship dynamic. When Landon was gone, it’s easy for me to stay over at their place. But now that he’s home, I’m not sure how we should handle it.

  Maybe it doesn’t really matter. I know how I feel. Last night, I wanted them to stay.

  No, I needed them to stay.

  I didn’t care how it would look to Landon or anyone else for that matter. The need to have them close overshadowed any sense of discomfort.

  Dean is right. Sometime over the last few weeks, I stopped being an individual and became part of a us. Tyler and Dean are mine, and I’m theirs. Our connection is real and meaningful, and I’m not going to be ashamed of what we have.