by M. Never
“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.
“I’m fine.” She sniffs as the waitress drops off her coffee. “I’ve been on a stakeout all night.”
“It didn’t go well I take it?”
“Oh, no, it did. Very well.” She dumps a boatload of sugar into her cup and a spot of cream.
“Well, what’s so important that you needed to see me?” Her appearance and her actions are highly concerning.
Sam glances around the barren room before she leans over the tabletop. “Does anyone know you sent me that picture? Is there any way it can be traced back to you?”
“Ah, no. No one knew I took it or sent it. Except you.”
“Okay, good.” She takes a long sip of coffee.
“Sam, what’s going on?” She’s scaring the hell out of me.
“I can’t say right now. I just want to make sure that you have no involvement with what happens next.”
I stare at my aunt. I haven’t seen her at all in the last month. With her crazy work schedule and my crazy life, we’ve barely had time to text each other.
“Should I be worried?” I ask.
“No, sweetie.” She puts a hand over mine. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”
“I didn’t mean me, Sam. Should I be worried about you?”
She huffs. “Kayla, I chose a dangerous job. We both need to make peace with that.”
“Sam, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“Good. Fear is good. It makes you remember you’re alive. And I want you to live, Kayla.”
“I am living.” For the first time, in a long time, I am.
“Good.” She squeezes my hand. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s order. I’m starving.” She enlarges her eyes at the menu.
I stare at her blankly.
Is she being serious right now?
“What can I get you ladies?” the elderly waitress asks cheerfully.
“I’ll have two fried eggs and extra home fries,” Sam orders without missing a beat.
“And you?” the waitress asks. I stutter, unable to peel my eyes away from my aunt.
“Um . . . the same, please.”
Sam hangs back in the diner as I leave for work. Our whole breakfast has me freaking out. She was acting so weird. So unlike her. It makes me wonder if there was a break in her drug case. A big break causing her to fret like that. I chew my nail as I cross the street. Our conversation is going to worry me all day.
Just as I make it to the sidewalk, I hear the roar of an engine. It actually startles me. I look around for the bike and spot a black monster with gold markings pull out from the shadows of the alleyway. I recognize him immediately. It’s Viper, Reese’s arch nemesis. Or, at least, that’s how he exaggerated it. Apparently, they climbed up the racing circuit together. Always in top competition. But Reese was better, and he beat Viper out for the top spot. We all know the rest is history. Reese is convinced Viper is harboring some resentment, and I’m inclined to agree seeing the way they reacted to each other the night of the rally.
My skin erupts in goose bumps, and not the good kind, as he watches me cross the pavement in the direction of the double doors of the hospital. That fucking helmet creeps me out, alien tentacles and all.
Once inside, I shiver with a foreboding feeling. I swear, I need to run fifteen miles just to shake off the anxiety of the morning.
I hurry upstairs, change into my scrubs, and throw myself into work, desperate for the distraction. Before I know it, it’s nearly noon and time for lunch.
In the nurses’ lounge, there’s a spread set out. Potluck. Right, I completely spaced.
“Don’t worry, Kayla. There’s plenty for everyone.” Tricia, my nurse manager, encourages me to eat. “You can just make two dishes next time.” She winks.
She’s a sweet older lady you can get over on, no problem. She hates conflict and avoids it at all costs.
“I can do that.” I pick up a paper plate and smile.
“Done deal.” She steals a drumstick of fried chicken and takes a bite.
Before I even grab a serving spoon, Dev walks into the room.
“I heard there was a feast in here.” He’s his usual suave self. I can almost hear Tricia swoon as he stalks around the table, taking inventory.
“Help yourself to whatever you want, Dr. Dynamite.”
“Dynamite?” I repeat. “Do I even want to know?”
Dev just shrugs like he has no clue.
“Did I say that out loud?” Tricia giggles like a schoolgirl, blushing. “Well, I’m off.” The woman pushing sixty excuses herself and nearly runs out of the room.
As soon as she’s gone, Dev crowds me into the corner where the countertops meet.
“Hey.” He kisses me openly, and I jump. “Whoa. Why so jittery, butterfly?” He places his hands on my arms.
“I just . . .” I shake it off. “Weird morning.”
“Breakfast go okay with your aunt?”
“Yeah . . . yes.” No, I don’t know. “She has a lot on her plate, and I worry, you know?”
“She’s fine. She’s a tough lady.”
“I know. You’re right.” I’m being ridiculous, but she really freaked me out, and then that whole thing with Viper . . . It was all just bizarre.
“Of course, I am.” He presses his lips to mine again. “Dev.” I lift up on my toes and pull away. “Someone is going to see.”
“So what? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to kiss you right here, in this spot? The very first place I ever laid eyes on you.”
“How long, Dr. Dynamite?” I toy.
Dev laughs modestly. “Way, way too long.” He slips his tongue between my lips, flipping and rolling it until I give in. I indulge him for a few heated seconds before I put the kibosh on the whole thing. Our situation is way too sensitive. And this place is a rumor mill on steroids. People have seen me with Reese, and people have seen me with Dev; sometimes, they’ve seen all three of us together. For dignity’s sake, I think it’s better not to give them something concrete to talk about.
“Fine, deny me. I’ll get my revenge later on.”
The threat excites me because I know what he’s capable of. I know how he can draw out my need until I’m virtually crying. He loves to hear me beg and will find any excuse for me to do so.
“I look forward to it,” I rise to the challenge.
“So do I.” His blue eyes smolder, and I nearly fall to my knees. I know that look all too well and all the naughty promises it holds. “Back to work, butterfly.” He steals one more kiss then saunters away.
I fan myself with the paper plate, ogling his ass as he goes.
“She is going to fucking murder you,” Dev crosses his arms and glares down at me.
“Why? Because I tuned up her bike?” I stand, wiping my dirty hands on my jeans.
“Because she was perfectly clear she didn’t want any part of riding it.”
“Yeah, well, she needs to get over that. Leave the past in the past and all.”
“Reese, this isn’t a good idea.”
“I never said it was, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.”
“That’s complete nonsense.” Dev doesn’t buy my argument for a second. Oh well.
“Maybe, but it’s always worked for me. I win, remember?” I pop my eyebrows. Sometimes you have to take risks to advance or even excel. Sometimes those risks can cost you; sometimes they can pay off huge in the end. I’ve been surviving on risk for almost ten years, and I’m not about to change my strategy now.
“You’re reckless,” Dev accuses.
“And you’re exactly right. I win because I’m reckless.”
“Wrong, man, you win because you have a death wish. And you don’t care what happens to you.”
“Yeah, well, that might have been true before, but not anymore,” I inform him.
“Oh? This is news to me.” Dev interrogates me with his
eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. People can change.”
“People, yes. You? I’m not convinced.”
“You’re my brother. Aren’t you supposed to be supportive?” I snap defensively. I understand, okay. I’m egocentric. My whole life I’ve only ever cared about three things. Myself, racing, and winning. But you know what? People do change. They grow. They fall in love. They see possibilities they never imagined before. Discover a world beyond their own. I’m living proof. I never would have walked away last season if I didn’t feel something—or someone—was more important. And there was. Kayla somehow, some way, changed me. My life is complicated, more than anyone can ever understand. I’ve had to live in the spotlight and in a shadow. And I’m getting tired. I can’t race forever, and I don’t want to end up alone either, so I’m finding my balance, laying my groundwork, and if I’m lucky, in the end, emerge victoriously. Granted, I live long enough to see the fruits of my labor.
“You know my take on the situation,” Dev leaves it at that.
“Yes, I do. And maybe I just needed something more important to live for.”
“Do you have something more important to live for?” he questions.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” he becomes gravely serious.
“So we’re on the same page, yeah?”
“With Kayla, yes. With her bike? Hell no.”
I groan. “All I did was change some spark plugs, fill it with oil, and let it hum for a little while. I don’t see the big deal.”
“When Kayla finds her bike in my garage, it’s going to become a very big deal.”
“Then we’ll just have to distract her until we find the perfect time to approach her.”
“I’ll give one hundred percent participation on distracting her, but you’re on your own approaching her.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. If you can’t count on family, who can you count on?
“Speaking of Kayla,” he changes the subject, “when are you going to tell her you’re leaving? Or are you just going to disappear in the middle of the night again?”
“No, I’m not going to disappear.” I can’t even take offense to that comment, because I’ve slipped out on a woman so many times, it’s become my MO. “But I have no idea when I’m going to tell her.” I wish I didn’t have to. I wish I didn’t have to leave at all. But I’m under contract and sort of itching to get back out there. Domesticity is nice, temporarily.
“Well, you better figure it out soon. Christmas is next week, and January first will be here before any of us knows it.”
I’m well aware. My life will no longer be my own once I step back into those racing leathers. My schedule will be full of testing, traveling, and appearances, not to mention practice and live competitions. It’s a vortex, that’s for sure. But it’s what I know. It will have to become what Kayla knows as well.
As unconventional as it is, I’m grateful for our arrangement. While I’m away, Dev will be here taking care of her. Not that she needs taking care of, but she won’t be alone. And that in itself will help me sleep better at night.
“Get rid of the bike,” Dev orders before he leaves the garage.
I throw my hands up in surrender. “Fine.”
My aunt hawks me the entire night. She knows something is up. I’ve been dancing around the subject of my relationship with Reese and Dev for weeks, and tonight, it’s all going to come to a head.
This has been the strangest Christmas of my life, waking up next to two men who showered me with presents. And not just small trinkets, either—diamond earrings, expensive clothes, electronics, and brand new leathers Reese had specifically designed for me. Black leather pants with colorful butterflies of different sizes stitched diagonally around one thigh and a matching black leather jacket with the same butterfly design climbing up the lapel onto the collar. So understated, but beautiful.
Dev surprised me with a butterfly necklace made of white diamonds and pink sapphires. Nothing dramatic, but also beautiful. The fact that they took such careful consideration, knowing what butterflies mean to me, put me over the edge. If you’re lucky, you find one person who’ll love you, scars and all. Somehow, I’ve found two.
Christmas dinner was an epic battle. Reese and Dev wanted a big feast, and they wanted us all together, which isn’t irrational, but I had to somehow, some way, include Sam. She’s the only family I have, and there was no way I was going to exclude her. I tried suggesting ten different scenarios, but the guys put their foot down; it was the biggest holiday of the year, and they wanted their woman with them. All day. Stubborn asses.
So that brings me to my current situation. My aunt and I sitting down to dinner with both Reese and Dev. To an onlooker, this picture might not be anything unusual. A girl making Christmas dinner for her boyfriend, aunt, and boyfriend’s brother. I’m sure many holiday dinners look exactly like ours—except they’re not. Because said girl is dating both boys, and said aunt had no idea, until now.
I heard the question in her voice when I called to invite her over to Dev’s in the first place. He has the larger house and a dining room table, even if he never uses it. I made him and Reese rearrange the entire room so it looked somewhat presentable. They moved the table to its rightful place, got rid of the gaming chairs, and shoved the weight set into the corner. It’s not picture perfect, but it works.
I set the table with pretty snowflake plates and a wreath-like centerpiece adorned with red pillar candles and small red and gold balls. If I’m going to be forced to host a holiday, I’m at least going to do it right. Everyone at the table seems to appreciate my efforts, but it’s abundantly clear the dynamic is off. Sam isn’t stupid. She knows I’ve had a thing for Dev and vice versa, but I can see her trying to figure out exactly how Reese fits in. She catches everything, like the way Dev places his hand protectively on my neck or how Reese grips my hips possessively when I brush past him. The gestures are subtle, but still loud and clear.
The conversation is light throughout dinner, and I’m thankful Sam is looking better and acting more herself.
With the boys’ help, I clear the table, while Sam takes it upon herself to inspect the first floor. I see her casually canvassing the tree and all the presents underneath it. If I know her, she’s taking a tally. I can tell you now, there are double the amount of girlie things.
Sam returns to the dining room with inquisitive brown eyes but doesn’t comment. No, she wouldn’t. She knows better than that. She does things tactfully, like cornering her niece while no one is around to interrogate her. While no one is around to defend her or stick up for her.
It’s close to nine p.m. by the time Sam is ready to say good night. As apprehensive as I was for this dinner, it wasn’t as painful as I expected.
“Walk me out?” she asks as Reese and Dev start a fire in the living room.
“Of course.” Here it comes, the inevitable.
We both slip on our coats and walk out into the brisk December air. It’s a beautiful night, so crisp and clear the stars are actually twinkling. I barely have the front door closed before Sam attacks. “What the hell is going on?”
I should have drank more wine to prepare for this conversation.
“With what?” I play coy at first.
“Don’t, Kayla.” She’s having none of it.
Fuck, this is so awkward. I pull on the front of my coat uncomfortably. I’m so flustered; I want to strip down to my underwear just to cool off.
“Just ask what you want to ask.” I think answering will be easier than straight out explaining.
“Are . . . Are you dating both of them?” The expression on her face is mystified.
Dating is a mild way to put it.
“Yes,” I confirm.
I think for the first time in my life I’ve left Sam speechless. And that’s saying a lot considering my past.
“How does that work exactly? Do they share custody? One gets you on the weekend and one during
the week?” She crackles with irritation.
I shake my head slowly, sadly. I’m about to blow my aunt’s mind.
“The three of us are together all of the time.”
She ponders this for an elongated while.
“All of the time?”
I nod.
Don’t get me wrong. There are times I’m just with Dev or Reese alone, but those instances are few and far between. For the most part, sex always involves three.
“How . . . ? I mean . . . ?” She motions with her hands trying to articulate something. “How does it work?” She finally makes a circle with her pointer and thumb and shoves a finger through it.
I actually laugh. “You want schematics?”
“Not really.” She curls her lip, retracting her question. “What I really want is to make sure you know what the hell you’re doing.” She places her hands on my arms seriously.
“I do. It’s complicated and unusual, I’ll admit, but it works for us.”
Sam creases her eyebrows, indecisively. “Just as long as you know what you’re doing,” she reiterates.
“Does anyone really know what they’re doing?”
“No.” She pulls me into a tense hug, and I feel her skepticism. “I love you, crazy. Like my own daughter.”
“I know.” I hug her back.
“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. No matter what happens.” She glances at the door behind me. I know what she’s getting at. When things with Reese and Dev go south, she’ll have a gallon of ice cream and a bottle of wine with my name on it. I really hope it never comes to that.
“Please, please be smart,” she implores.
“I will.”
I watch her cruiser pull away before I go back inside. I drop my coat on the banister then collapse between Dev and Reese on the couch. The fire is crackling, and the TV is on mute.
“Everything okay?” Dev asks, angling his body toward me.
“Ye-es,” my answer wavering.
“Did you come right out and tell her?” Reese probes.
“I didn’t have to. She knew. She’s not stupid. She’s a cop. Intuition is her bread and butter.”
