by Leah Braemel
Her heart ached at seeing the change in him after knowing what he’d survived. He deserved to be happy. If she chose Dillon over him, would she end up driving Brett away from the only real family he’d known? She blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. She hadn’t asked to end up torn between the two of them, and yet here she was, faced with an impossible decision between two men she respected, cared for…loved.
“He was always a scrapper, though. Course, it got him through a lot. Some of the other boys used to think because he was skinny, that meant he was frail, and others hassled him about his father being an ex-con, but he sure set them straight right quick.”
Nikki flipped through the pages, examining photos of Dillon and Brett as they matured through middle school and into high school, recognizing them as they’d been when she’d moved to town. She stopped at their graduation photos. The smile that had been present in the previous pictures was once again absent. Even more telling was the absence of Dillon’s usually ever-present grin.
“That was the year they fought.” Faith frowned when she saw what page Nikki had stopped on. “That was such a horrible time. Something set Dillon off; I’ve never seen him so upset. They never would tell me what it was about, though.” She huffed. “I’ve never been so angry with any of my children as I was that year. When Brett ran away, I was terrified. I was sure we’d lost him forever.”
Wishing she could disappear into the floor, Nikki closed the book and flattened her hand over the cover. “They were fighting because Brett kissed me, and Dillon was jealous.”
“Is that the way of it, then?” Faith said just as quietly as Nikki had admitted it. “I’d often wondered if there was a girl involved, but they’re both so pigheaded neither would tell me. Even after Brett came back, the two of them didn’t talk. Next thing we knew Brett was going to school in Boston, and we barely saw him at all.”
“I didn’t know they fought until a couple of weeks ago. Please understand, Mrs. Barnett. I wasn’t trying to make trouble between them. Dillon had never said anything to me before Brett kissed me.”
Neither had said anything other than a polite hello or howdy in the halls for the rest of the semester. By the time Brett had come back from his first year at college, she was married.
“And now here you are, all together again.”
Did Faith know that she was sleeping with both of them? She chanced a look up, if only to try to figure out just how much Dillon’s mom knew.
Instead of condemnation, she saw sympathy on her face, heard understanding in her voice. “You care for both my boys, don’t you?”
Miserable, she nodded and stared at her hands still flattened over the album. “They want me to decide between them.”
Faith sighed. “Oh, honey, you’re the baby in Solomon’s Wisdom, aren’t you? Only it’s the two men you love splitting you apart.”
Chapter Thirteen
“All right, let’s get this done.” Brett grabbed his plate and stacked it with Nikki’s. “Matt, you’re washing. Griffin, Ethan, you’re on rinse detail. Dillon and I will dry.”
Solutions often came to him when he was working at mindless tasks. Maybe the dishes would help him sort through the myriad of questions assailing him. Like what the hell had tipped Gramma Barnett to what had happened the night before? As much as he’d wanted to blame someone else, he knew neither Dillon nor Nikki had said anything. Which meant that canny old woman picked up on some vibe resonating from them. How soon before the others clued in?
“Aw, man, why do I have to be the one handling the dirty dishes every Sunday? Why can’t Ethan or Griff do the washing this week?” Matt complained. But he plodded over to the sink and turned on the water, squirting the dishwasher detergent into the stream. “We could at least buy a dishwasher. You’ve got one, Dill. And you live alone.”
“There’s three of them now,” Ethan reminded his youngest brother. He leaned a hip against the counter while they waited for the sink to fill. “Hey, Dill? Did you know about Gramma’s great-grandparents? Was she telling the truth, or was she yanking our chains?”
Good question. If Gram had said something, maybe that’s where Dillon had gotten his idea for the night before. He studied Dillon as he opened the pantry.
Dillon’s face showed only puzzlement when he handed another towel to Brett. “I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve heard those stories before.”
Maybe Dillon’s subconscious had remembered them? Nah. He’d been a cop too long and saw conspiracies where there were none.
After scraping off a plate, Matt plunged it into the water. “So is she right? Are you two doin’ Nikki at the same time?”
Before Brett could react, Griffin popped Matt on the back of his head. “Moron, you don’t ask a question like that. Shee-it.”
“Hey! I was only askin’. ’Sides, Gramma’s the one who brought it up. I didn’t see you objecting to her talkin’ about it.”
“Yeah, like that would go down well,” Griffin snorted.
“Didn’t you see how red Dillon turned?”
Couldn’t have been much redder than he was right now. Only then it had been from embarrassment. Right now, Dill looked like he was ready to take the boy down and pound the words back down his throat. Pretty much the same feelings he himself was fighting.
Not realizing the jeopardy he was in, Matt continued, “I think they are both doing Nikki—”
That did it. Brett lunged. Just as his fingertips grazed Matt’s shirt, Dillon and Ethan grabbed him.
At the same time, Griffin hooked his elbow around Matthew’s head and put him in a headlock. “You wanna get your face smashed in, fuckhead? You better apologize and fast.”
“For what?” Matt grunted as he struggled to free himself.
Griffin rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “For disrespecting Nikki, you frickin’ dipshit. Jesus, Matt, I can’t believe we share the same DNA. You’re such a jerkwad sometimes.”
“All right already. I apologize.” Once released, he brushed a hand through his hair. “I just think it’s cool that they’re both doin’—”
With a groan, Griffin hauled Matt out of the kitchen and onto the porch, cursing him all the way. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”
“Let me go, asshat.” Matt’s whining died off as Ethan joined Griffin in hauling their youngest brother away.
The pounding in Brett’s ears subsided. With Griffin, Dillon and Faith by his side, and from the sounds of it Gramma Barnett’s approval, it didn’t matter what anyone said about what had happened the night before if it ever got out. The Barnetts would be there for him, as well as Dillon. Supporting them no matter what.
Maybe Dillon realized it too, from the stupid grin spreading across his face.
“I’m betting Matt staged that specifically to get out of doin’ those.” Dillon waved toward the counter full of dirty dishes.
Brett shook his head and cracked a smile. “I bet you’re right. The little shit. And it worked too. Come on, I’ll wash, you dry.”
His good mood dissipated as the sink filled with water. It was the first time he’d been alone with Dillon since the night before, and the doubts about the evening, about whether Dillon had heard him whisper that he loved her, about why Dillon had suggested the threesome in the first place, flooded back.
Wondering how to broach the subject, he washed the dishes with such a vigor he wondered how he hadn’t broken everything he touched.
Were his questions best left unasked? Unanswered? Leaving his hands immersed in the water, Brett stopped scrubbing, trying to read Dillon’s body language.
Dillon closed the cupboard door and broke the silence. “Go on, say it. I know you’ve been wanting to.”
“Did you convince your grandmother to make that shit up about her great-grandparents?”
Dillon’s mouth flapped open. “No! Hell, no.”
“Then why the hell did she bring it up out of the blue like that? Something had to have put i
t in her head. And since you’re the one who’s always over there, I’m figuring maybe you said something to her.”
“How should I know what goes through that woman’s mind? Besides, you’ve been with me the whole day. When would I have had a chance to say jack shit to her without you knowing?”
Dillon was right; he’d not been out of Brett’s sight since they’d gotten up. “What were you expecting me to ask then?”
“Nothing. Never mind.”
Dillon leaned a hip against the counter and glanced around before lowering his voice. “While we’re on the subject. About what Gram said, about the three of us living together? Maybe we should think on it some.”
What the fuck? Fulfilling a fantasy for one night was not the same as a permanent threesome. Did Dillon not have a clue what a can of worms he could create? “No. We shouldn’t.”
“Why not? It would solve a buttload of problems.”
“Because it’s not done, Dill.” Damn it, what the hell was Dillon thinking? There was no way in hell’s half acre they could pull off such a ludicrous idea.
Besides, if he agreed to Dillon’s scheme, he’d find himself shut out more and more as time went by. Being reminded how it was Dillon’s house they lived in, how Dillon made more money with his business than he did as a cop. And given enough time, Nikki would grow tired of his shiftwork and turn to Dillon, and he’d find himself shut out completely. Although maybe it would be fairer to Nikki. Being a cop’s wife wasn’t a picnic.
Dillon kept his voice low, but his passion came through like a class-five tornado. “Why should Nikki have to choose one of us over the other? Why can’t we just keep on the way we have been? I’m happy, you seem to be, and so does Nikki.”
The good feelings that had filled him drained as surely as if someone had pulled a plug. “You fucking selfish bastard. You think you’re going to lose her to me, don’t you? Because she made love to me last night. So you figure you’ll cut your losses and offer to share her like she’s some goddamned horse?”
Dillon cursed. “Come on, Brett. Think about it. Could you be happy knowing you’d never feel her sweet little pussy around your dick again?”
Brett stared at him. The fucking bastard. How shallow could Dillon get? “Is that all Nikki is to you? A good fuck?”
“No, of course not.”
He crossed the distance between them until he could feel Dillon’s breath on his face. And Dillon could feel his. He used their difference in height to his advantage and for good measure gave him his best cop stare. “If sex is all you have going with Nik, I will take her from you and not lose a lick of sleep about it.”
To his credit, Dillon didn’t back down, didn’t even flinch. “I love Nikki. It’s not about how good she is in bed. I love everything about her. I want to protect her and help her. I love coming home and knowing she’s there waiting for me. I love getting her to laugh. I want to comfort her when she’s sad and care for her when she’s sick. I want her to know that I love her.”
And there it was. It wasn’t about sharing Nikki. It was about Dillon getting his way. Dillon didn’t need to resort to fists. Not this time. No, he’d discovered a more subtle way to win Nikki’s love.
Grinding his jaw, Brett stepped back. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s chafing your ass that you might lose her to me.”
“All I know is it’ll kill either of us, no matter which of us she chooses. I heard you tell her you love her last night. She’s told me she loves me too, you know. I may not have said the words, but I love her too. So yeah, it’s tearing me apart to think she could go home with you, and I’d never get to be with her again.”
Though he kept them at his sides, Dillon’s hands had clenched into fists, and his feet were planted shoulder-width apart. Brett recognized that stance; Dillon was gearing up for a knock-down-drag-out.
Dillon’s eyes narrowed. “You know, it just occurred to me. I gave you my word that if she chose you, I’d stand aside, that I’d support you both. But I didn’t hear you say anything back. What are you plannin’ on doing if she chooses me over you, Brett? What would you do if you discovered last night was her way of sayin’ goodbye to you? Would you step aside? Or would I have to keep my double-ought with me, just in case?”
Brett’s breath froze in his lungs. Was their lovemaking last night her way of saying goodbye? Is that why Dillon had proposed the threesome? Had the two of them planned it? Was it some sort of perverted way for Dillon—or Nik—to control their break-up? To give poor Brett one final fuck before he was sent on his way?
When they’d woken up Nikki hadn’t been cuddling him. She’d been all over Dillon, with him spooning her from behind. Maybe the evidence had been right in front of him, and he’d missed it.
“Has Nik decided?” he asked, the words strangling him.
The stiffness to Dillon’s stance relaxed, his shoulders slumping, his hands relaxing. “No. Not that she’s said to me.”
He forced himself to ask the one question he hadn’t been able to ask since that day back by the pond. “I know you said you’d come to our wedding, but if Nik did choose me, could we still be friends, Dill? Or would you cut us—me—off like you did before?”
Without any sort of hesitation, Dillon met Brett’s gaze. “I won’t pretend it wouldn’t hurt like hell but yeah, we’d still be friends. I don’t want to lose either of you. Not again.”
He meant it, Brett could tell, but saying it was one thing; doing it was a horse of a totally different color.
Dillon shuffled closer, dropping his voice. “But listen to me for a sec. No matter who Nik chooses, one of us is going to get hurt. I don’t want to get hurt, but you know what? I don’t want to see you hurting again either. Does that make me selfish? Damned straight it does. But what if Gram’s got the right idea? What if none of us have to get hurt? What if we just let things continue the way they were last night, this morning? The three of us. Together. Every day. Every night. From here on in. A ’til-death-do-we-part type of commitment.”
Brett exhaled. As seriously fucked-up as it sounded, he could picture it. Besides, it would be nice to know that Nikki would have someone to lean on if he bought the farm one night. He rubbed the bruises on his ribs. What if that bastard last night had pulled out a knife or a gun instead of using his fists? If he and Nikki had been married, she’d have been visited by the sheriff and would be planning his funeral right about now. This way, she’d have Dillon to take care of her.
“Maybe if we were living in California or, I don’t know, some big city where no one knows their neighbors, we could get away with it. But here? Where everyone and their brother knows when you scratch your frickin’ butt? Can you imagine the talk about Nik—and us? You saw what Matt was like just now. You heard what he was saying about her. Imagine that type of trash talk from strangers on the street, or in a store when Nikki’s all alone without us to defend her. Do you want to subject her to that?”
“Okay, so people might talk for a while, but then it’ll die down. Some other scandal will replace us as the topic of choice. You’ve seen it a thousand times before. Look at when it came out that old lady Jenkins was havin’ that affair with Joe Miller. Sure, everyone talked about it, called her a cougar ’cause she was boinking a man almost thirty years younger. But now they’ve been living together for close to five years. No one bats an eye anymore. And look at Sheriff Crawford—he’s lived with the two Cade brothers with not a woman in sight for close to fifteen years, yet he’s still getting voted into office every term.”
Dillon was right.
Shit, were they seriously considering this? Could they make it work? “I can stand what people say about me, but do you think Nikki would go for it? Could we protect her from the gossip?”
There was a moment as Dillon hesitated before he nodded slowly. “I think so. If my family can accept it, I think we’ll be fine.”
Since Dillon’s family was related to most everyone in the county, Brett had no doubt Dillon was convinced of h
is confidence in the Barnett name being enough to sway public opinion. But Brett wasn’t so sure. After all, neither he nor Nikki was a Barnett.
They worked in silence until he plunged another dirty saucepan into the water. “If Nikki says no, we don’t pressure her, right? We respect her decision, no matter what it is.”
Dillon had the good grace to look offended. “Of course. You think I’m that much of a dickhead?”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
“Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence.” Dillon took the pot Brett handed him and dried it. Once he’d balanced it on top of the others underneath the cabinet and closed the door, he wadded up the towel and stared at it for a moment. “I love Nikki. I’d love nothing better than to have her live with me for the rest of my life. But I don’t want anything to…” He cleared his throat. “You’re like a brother to me, Brett. You’re…what I’m trying to say is…you and me…”
“Yeah, I get it. You love me.” Though he tried to keep the remark off-hand, Brett felt the heat rising into his face even as his throat closed in again.
“Yeah.” Dillon exhaled. “Yeah, I do. I just…I’m not good at saying it. Especially to guys, you know?” He took another deep breath. “Look, last night, when you and Nikki were making love…well, that’s just it. You two were making love. I don’t want to come between that. If it comes down to it, if she can’t make a decision, then I’ll step back.”
While part of Brett whooped in relief, another part of him wanted to sink onto a chair and bury his face in his hands. “Why would you do that, Dill? Why would you walk away from a woman you say you love?”
“Because she’s happy with you. And you’re happy with her. And you both deserve to be happy. And…” Dillon ran his hands through his hair until he resembled a porcupine with his quills ready to shoot. “You lost your chance with her before because of me. Think of it as me doing the right thing finally, setting the record straight.”
