No Simple Sacrifice

by Angel Payne

  He’s busy, that’s what’s going on. He’s a driven, commanding captain of industry. You’re not his only priority.

  I opened up my email just to feel in touch with the world. Of course, work hadn’t stopped. At least three messages were marked urgent—and after tapping a fast reply to the only one that actually was, I closed the app and tossed the device onto the cushion beside me.

  “Somebody piss you off?” Fletcher walked in as my phone took a second bounce on the cushion.

  “No.” I tried shirking off my unease with a shrug. “Just…quiet. A lot of quiet.”

  He exhaled, communicating his instant understanding. “He told me he’d be here as soon as he could.”

  “I know. But why does something feel off?”

  “Because you’re paranoid?” He reached down, playfully tweaking my nose. I caught his hand and softly bit his middle finger. He hissed sharply, his stare once more darkening with steely tints. “And…a lot more. But right at the moment, let’s stick with paranoid.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I feigned a smile while letting him have his hand back.

  A buzzing noise came from the security alarm control pad. Fletcher walked over, pressing the green response button. “Good evening, Stuart.”

  The name was fitting for the sophisticated man who’d nodded at us in the lobby. His voice was, as well, lilted with an exotic accent I couldn’t quite place. “Good evening, Mr. Ford. Sorry to bother you.”

  “It’s no problem at all.” Fletcher could’ve talked the man down off a fifty-story ledge with his amiability. I easily envisioned about fifty other occupations for which he’d be perfect. Shrink. Vet. Firefighter. Minister. Talk show host. Gigolo. Oh, hell no. He’d be too damn good at that one. Then I’d have to cut some people.

  “There is a courier in the lobby with a delivery for you. Shall I sign for it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Very well, sir. I’ll send Roger up with the envelope in a minute.”

  “Thank you, Stuart.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Will you be needing a car again this evening, sir?”

  “No, thanks. I’m sure we’ll all be in for the night.” As he spoke it, he turned and slid me a slow wink. Oh, God…yes. The man could turn my bloodstream into melted caramel from thousands of miles away. From ten steps away, I was already a fully cooked dessert, ready to be pulled open and devoured. My heart beat double time as he added a knowing, sexy grin. Bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to me and relished every throbbing moment of it.

  “Very well. Good night, then.”

  “Uhhh…yeah. Night.”

  His absent-minded trail-off made me giggle and sigh in the same giddy little sound. It happened again as he sauntered back over, making me self-conscious to the point of skittish, as he plopped down beside me.

  I licked my lips.

  He groaned hard.

  “Fuck, sugar.”

  I laughed louder. “Turn-about is fair play, Mr. Ford. You think it was easy to weather your come-hither looks?”

  “Well, coming in lots of places is definitely on the menu for tonight.”

  “Thank flipping goodness.”

  He pulled out his own phone, glowering at the empty notifications screen and uttering, “Ass.” He shook his head. “D better not be too much longer. This is torture, not dragging you back to the bedroom.” He cocked his head to one side, detecting my curiosity before it even sparked on my face. “What is it?”

  I hummed and bit my lip. “A question. Simple, but weird. Don’t hate me for it.”

  “Baby, there’s not a lot I could mildly dislike you for, much less hate.”

  “So…do you two sleep together all the time?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Uh…no. We only sleep in the same bed when you’re between us. We have separate rooms here. We picked this place over a few others because there are two large master suites. We’re tight, but not that tight.”

  “That makes sense.” I smiled but averted my gaze to my lap anyway. After everything the three of us had already shared, being back with them in person…well, it made it all so real again. So intimate, in ways I’d never experienced with Gavin, who’d have been sputtering and flustered by a query like that. But Fletcher had reacted as if he’d almost expected it. “I definitely can appreciate having my own space, too.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Really?” I looked back up. Relating to men like this was new territory for me. I kind of…liked it.

  Fletcher smiled. Leaned over as if to kiss me but tugged up short, like a kid told it wasn’t time for dessert yet. Instead, he scooped up my hand, kissed the palm and asserted, “Really.”

  I bounced in place. “Well, there’s so much I don’t know about you. Or Drake, for that matter.”

  “Well, I’m an open book. Ask away, sugar.”

  I inhaled. Deeply. He’d offered… “Have you guys ever been in a serious relationship? Something long-term?”

  His posture hiked up, reflecting my seriousness. His respect for my thoughts and ideas, even when we’d simply been working together, always made me feel bolder and even more beautiful.

  “Well,” he finally said, “that answer depends on how you define serious. Drake and I aren’t new to this, if that’s what you want to know. We balance each other in bed, just as we balance each other in life, and enjoy bringing pleasure to a woman that way.”

  “But…how did you learn?” My curiosity was real. “You just sat down and had a conversation about it one night?”

  He chuckled. “If it had been that simple…” Twined our hands a little tighter. “It was…a natural evolution, I guess. We met when Drake got back from deployment. He started playing on my water polo team at the club and we really hit it off. We started hanging out in professional organizations too and orchestrated a few business ventures together. To be corny, D’s like the yin to my yang. I can communicate things he can’t and he takes action when I’d rather sit on my ass and coast.”

  I nodded with probably a bit too much enthusiasm—but he’d spoken the complete truth. They were a matched set of different energies. Together, the combination was like concocting a perfect stick of dynamite.

  “One night after a few too many drinks, we admitted to being intrigued with the idea of sharing a woman—but also were adamant about not being ‘into’ each other.”

  He lifted his free hand to my nape, softly rubbing as he went on, “Since then, there have been numerous…dates…but only a couple of women we saw casually for a few months each. Obviously, nothing ever came of those experiences.”

  “Why?” Instantly, I yearned to haul the over-eager question back in. Was I prying too much? His tender smile said otherwise, so I tried to relax. It was tough going now. Just thinking about the two of them, using the explosive force of their hands and tongues and bodies, had me squirmy and restless and soaked.

  Where the hell is Drake?

  “That’s a pretty good question, love,” he replied. “And I’m not sure I have an answer. I guess none of them was the right one for us.”

  My brain clicked back to a section of his story—an innocuous one, I hoped. “So…water polo. That’s where Killian fits into your friendship, too?”

  “The girl doesn’t miss a detail.” He grinned. “That’s right. He and I played on the same team in prep school. We went our separate ways in college but both landed back in Chicago. And because I can see the gears in your head already turning on the question, no, we’ve never ‘shared’ like that with him. He’s a freaky horn dog, but he’s also traditional in the sense of one man, one woman.”

  A knock on the door ended our little twenty-questions session. Fletcher rose to answer, treating me to yet another opportunity to ogle his fine rear end. His legs were so long and lean, his slacks tapering in at his trim waist. I let out a heavy sigh. I was the luckiest girl in the world. Well…would be, once Drake arrived. As the wind moa
ned against the windows, I prayed he hadn’t gotten stuck somewhere because of the storm.

  Fletcher signed for an envelope from the doorman, then eyed the package with furrowed brows while crossing back to the sofa. “Weird,” he mumbled.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s addressed to both of us.”

  “You and Drake?”

  “No. You and me.”

  “Who even knows I’m here?” I did some mental searching. Claire, Margaux and Taylor knew I’d flown to Chicago to be with the guys, but everyone in the family thought I was staying in a hotel, in town to attend the SGC gala. It was the truth—just not all of it. “And why don’t I feel good about this?” My stomach flip-flopped, underlining the statement.

  “Because you’re paranoid?”

  He winked to emphasize the repeat on the joke, but it barely scratched the surface of my trepidation. My underlying anxiety, bubbling for the last two days straight, scalded the edges of my composure.

  “Ssshhh, sweetheart.” He rubbed a reassuring hand over the clammy ones I kneaded in my lap. “Let’s just see what this is all about, okay?”

  He slid his finger under the flap. Pulled out a single sheet of folded paper. As he opened the page, the light from the foyer shone in behind him, illuminating the handwriting on the message. I couldn’t read any of it from my side, so I focused on Fletcher.

  And the sudden, deep furrows in his forehead.

  The harsh drop of his eyebrows.

  “What is it, Fletcher?”

  The heavy swallow in his throat.

  “Fletcher?”

  The shaking tips of his fingers.

  Dammit.

  “It’s…from Drake. What the hell? Why the hell?”

  “What?” The knot in my stomach supersized itself into a full, stabbing ache. “What does it say, Fletcher?” I shivered as an iceberg joined the pain—then broke off into freezing shards through my body. I harped every chastising mantra I could remember—you really are paranoid…stop being so dramatic…it’s never as awful as you think…stop turning into your own mother…but in the end, one truth blared over all of them.

  Drake wasn’t here.

  And his letter was.

  Fletcher cleared his throat. With painstaking softness, began to read aloud.

  My beautiful Talia and my brother, Fletcher,

  I never believed the bullshit about some things being said best in writing—until now. Half of me still bellows I’m a coward for this, but the thought of broaching this in person with you is completely impossible—and I need you both to hear everything I have to say.

  It comes from the deepest place in my heart.

  I love the two of you more than I ever thought possible. The ways that you both have made my life fuller are a blessing I never expected—bringing a truth I can no longer deny. I cannot keep grasping this joy, if it comes at the expense of either of yours.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” I rasped. Fletcher flashed me a glance full of the same agonized confusion before reading on.

  I want nothing but happiness and perfect lives for you two. But perfection comes at a price. You don’t get to have excellence without sacrifice.

  That’s why, at this point, I’ve decided the best thing for the three of us is for you to simply be the two of us. To move forward, without shame or hiding, as a couple. Without me.

  “No!”

  I bolted off the couch. Repeated the word on a sob, before my knees gave out and dropped me back to the cushion. Fletcher watched me, sad and silent, his gaze brimming with turbulent grief. We breathed hard together, re-collecting what we could of our minds, before he squeezed my hand and continued reading.

  Talia, I know you are worried about your family accepting our relationship. It’s true, sweetheart, no matter how adamantly you keep denying it. It has destroyed me, and will continue to destroy me, to think of you having to choose between us and them. I refuse to make you do that—or to see you torn about it any longer. To be clichéd, it’s easier this way. With Fletcher by your side, you can be proud to go home to your family, unafraid of their judgment or disappointment. He will treat you the way they want you to be treated. He is the best man I have ever known, honorable and kind, a worthy mate for the queen you are.

  Fletcher, you have been my brother for so long…I don’t remember life without you in it. I don’t want to think about losing our friendship—this is no simple sacrifice—but one I make willingly, so you both can be happy. Do you hear me? You deserve to be happy as much as she does, asshole. With that said, I know you will understand that distance is best for me right now. It’s best that we go our separate ways. I will always have your back, brother mine. If you ever need anything…well, you know the rest.

  Please remember how much I love you both. And that I will never forget you.

  Truly yours,

  Drake

  My first instinct was denial. It spawned a bitter laugh. “This—this is a joke, right?” I didn’t believe myself for a second. As panic set in, my voice pitched up by an octave. “Is this a prank? Are you two messing with me? What the hell is going on, Fletcher? He—he can’t be serious. Is he serious?”

  Fletcher didn’t reply. He mutely stared at the paper in his hand as if he were holding a dead snake—with the head he’d just bitten off still filling his mouth.

  “Fletcher.” I wanted to dive into his arms. I wanted to slap him across the face. “Say something. You know him better than anyone. What the hell is happening?”

  With every muscle I could focus on, I battled full freak-out mode. For the last two weeks, I’d survived on dreams of being here…of finally being enclosed in their arms, wrapped in the magic of us once again. But the dream was now a nightmare—not brought by any of the forces that conspired against us. It had been an inside job.

  Damn him.

  “I-I don’t know—what he could be thinking.” The words stumbled from Fletcher, tight and shallow, struggling against emotion.

  “Have you two been talking about this?” I fired it as the accusation it was intended to be—at once recognizing it as a mistake. When Fletcher lurched from the couch, hands clawing through his hair, I felt sicker than before. I’d hurt him.

  “I’ve barely seen him this week,” he said, sounding dazed. “I thought it was a little odd—we normally hang out for at least a few minutes every morning, especially since you came along—but he’s been leaving before I get out of the shower every day. But then he’d text later, to say how busy he was at work. Then he’d get home long after I went to bed.” He sank back to the couch, though leaned forward with elbows on his knees. The expression on his face was etched with concentration. His jaw was a nearly right angle of anger. “I didn’t see any of it—just like the fucker intended.”

  I struggled to reclaim the breath my shock had stolen, shaking from the violence of the effort, though that was much better than the only other thought in my head—the comprehension that Drake had done this. Was really gone. “How…can this be happening?”

  “I’m as confused as you are, love.” The endearment didn’t soften the harsh edges in his voice. “But I swear to God, we’ll get it straightened out. He just needs to be reassured.”

  “Reassured?” It was all I could do not to laugh it. “Drake? Be damn serious. That’s not what’s going on and we both know it.”

  “Do we?” Mr. Answer-With-a-Question fell back on his comfortable tactics—an observation that should’ve brought relief, but didn’t.

  “Yes,” I retorted, “we do. This is…all my fault…” I trailed off, letting my agony finally overcome my words. “I’m…not enough.”

  Fletcher straightened. Jerked sharply toward me. “What did you say?”

  “I’m not enough.” I spoke louder the second time, lifting my tear-filled gaze to him. “Don’t you see? I’m not the right girl for you two, either. I’m…not…”

  A full sob broke in before I could help it. I choked it back a second later, as
the fullness of it hit with sledgehammer force. I’d let them down. Worse yet, had split up their friendship. And most guys fought over who’d get the girl, not who would give her up. The irony was so awful, it wasn’t even funny—and stung worse than a lifetime of my parents’ disapproval.

  An hour ago, I’d been joyfully, giddily in love.

  Now, it was over.

  Before it had barely started.

  “Dammit.” Fletcher’s growl was so harsh, it took a second to realize he’d made it. “Don’t you dare say that again.” He surged to his feet once more. One step later, stopped and wheeled back on me…plummeting to his knees in front of me. “Talia. Talia. You are perfect for us.” He sprawled his fingers against the side of my face. “You’re everything to us. Everything we’ve ever wanted.”

  I battled to absorb the adoration in his voice. It was no use. I couldn’t even cry anymore. “Apparently not.” Especially since he still clutched the burning hot evidence in his other hand.

  “Hush.” His growl was back. “We just need to talk to him.”

  I shook my head. My heart moaned with winds as sad as the gusts against the windows. “I don’t think it will matter.”

  “Trust me, dammit. He just needs to hear our reasoning.”

  “Don’t you get it? It shouldn’t be about reasoning or talking or even begging him to stay. He’s just—”

  “He’s mixed up, Tolly.” Bafflement crushed his brows tighter over his eyes. “For some fucking reason, he’s gotten this crazy bullshit idea into his head that—”

  “That he doesn’t want to be here.” I shrank back, unable to handle his incredible touch for a second longer. Unable to crave it as much as I still did. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to just walk away.” The tearless grief crushed my chest again—just as the rough rumble returned to his voice.

  “You’re wrong. I know it. I feel it, god damn it. We just need to talk to him.”

  I shook my head again. “I won’t come between the two of you, Fletcher. I refuse. Before there was an us, there were the two of you—such connected friends, you call each other ‘brother’. I will not destroy that. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I had.”