17
Too Good to Last
“Oh, are you still here?” Reid says, coming in the door the next afternoon. There’s an uncomfortable and unfamiliar tone of hurt and anger mixed in with his usual teasing that leaves me unsure how to respond.
“I’m still here,” I say finally.
He gives me a long look but doesn’t say anything else. I’m in the kitchen, cleaning and also looking through things for any special items that belonged to my mom. So far, I have an old, chipped coffee mug set aside, along with a crooked flowerpot that I made for her in ceramics class.
Reid continues through, and I brace myself for his brothers who are most likely following. Maureen is gone, and I considered making myself scarce tonight, but I have things to do, and I know I can’t avoid them forever. I’ll be running away soon enough.
Mitchell enters, makes a rough sound of greeting without actually speaking or slowing, and keeps on going. Finn is right behind him. He stops inside the doorway but doesn’t speak.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi.” He watches me as I unload the dishwasher. “How was your day?” He asks after a minute has passed.
“Okay,” I say.
“I'm sure it was better than ours.”
I glance at him but I'm afraid to ask what he means. Maybe there were problems on the job, but maybe he's talking about my decision. Mitchell and Reid seemed angry when I made my announcement last night and they seem angry now.
I expected all of them to be surprised, and I thought maybe they would try to get me to stay, but I don't understand the anger. We were just having fun.
And for Mitchell and the responsibilities he's dealing with, my departure should make things easier. Maybe something else is going on, but I'm not brave enough to ask.
“Want some tea?” Finn asks, moving toward the refrigerator.
“Sure,” I say, somber and apologetic-sounding, though I'm sure my day was worse than his. I spent a lot of time crying.
He fills two glasses with ice and pours drinks for both of us. When he sits at the table, I feel compelled to sit, too.
Finn is quiet for a while, slowly drinking his tea, looking at me from time to time as if trying to figure me out. “I thought we had something good going on,” he says, holding me in his gaze.
We did, I think. So good. Too good. Too good to be true. Definitely too good to last.
“We were just having a good time,” I say.
His brows knit together and his mouth turns down in a frown. My hand aches to reach out and touch his face. “I think it was more than that,” he says, his eyes piercing mine.
I was afraid Finn might feel this way. Being the youngest I think he was hit hardest of the three by our parents’ death. It makes sense that he would be most vulnerable and get a little attached. I know how he feels, though my feelings for them stem from so much more than my vulnerability.
“What I don't understand—” Reid's voice comes from the doorway and startles me. I didn't hear him come in. He's leaning against the doorframe looking as though he's been there awhile. “...is why you're leaving for a job interview. Wouldn't you go for an interview and then wait to find out if you get the job before you pick up and move?”
I hesitate for only a second. I’m prepared for this question. “It's so far,” I say. “That wouldn't be practical. Besides, I need to get back. We all knew I wasn't going to be here forever.”
Reid just stares, his face set. When I stand to continue putting away the dishes, he moves to get himself a drink. Finn remains sitting, and I focus on steeling myself.
I want to go to them — both of them — and wrap myself around them. I want them to hold me and tell me to stay, and kiss me until I promise never to leave.
The attraction is so strong it’s as if our bodies are magnetized. I grip the edge of the sink and look out the window, trying to picture the city I'll be returning to instead of the peaceful, green vista before my eyes. My mom probably looked out this window everyday, enjoying the trees and flowers as much I have.
I'll be okay. I can do this. I need to do this.
I turn and take a deep breath. “What would you like for dinner?” I ask as I cross toward the refrigerator. “I’ll get it started.”
Reid grabs my wrist as I pass and holds me in place. “You’re just going to act like everything’s normal?” he says.
Everything’s not normal. It never was, and it never will be normal, and that’s all the more reason I need to leave.
His touch burns up my arm. I know now how good his touch can feel. We’re too close, the magnetic pull is even stronger, and Reid’s familiar scent of sun, grass, and sweat fills my senses.
I bite my lip hard to bring my focus back to where it needs to be. I root my feet down so that I don’t turn and fold into him.
“It was never the plan for me to stay here forever,” I say. “We all need to get on with our lives.”
His hand continues to hold me, but gradually it loosens, and then he lets go completely. I’m frozen in place, still fighting all of my body’s impulses.
“Don’t worry about dinner,” Reid says finally. “We’ll grab sandwiches. You probably have a lot of packing to do.”
His words are cold, sending chills to all the places that had just been hot from his touch. I don’t get it. This has to be about something more. Maybe they all talked about Mitchell’s discussion with Maureen. Maybe this isn’t about me at all, and my timing is just terrible. We’ve all been through a lot this year.
“You’re right. I do,” I say to Reid and Finn who both have their backs turned to me. I manage to hold in the sob until I’m back in my room, alone.
Before they’re completely filled with tears, my eyes land on the little vase by my bedside. I never asked Finn or Mitchell about it, but the flowers have been mysteriously and faithfully refreshed every few days. There are yellow and pink blooms in there, new only two days ago, but now drooping as they start to wilt.
I throw myself down on the bed and cry quietly until no more tears come.
I’m not hungry for dinner, but I venture downstairs later for something to drink. Reid and Finn are in the living room watching TV. I pass through without saying anything.
Mitchell’s in the kitchen, sitting at the table, eating a sandwich and thumbing his phone.
“Hi,” I say.
“How’s it going?” he says after swallowing a bite. His tone is neutral, which is definitely an improvement from the grunt I received from him earlier this evening.
“Fine. You?”
“All right,” he says.
I pour myself a glass of iced tea and he continues to eat in silence. When he finishes his sandwich and gets up to rinse his plate, Mitchell says, “Do you need a ride back to the city, or are you taking the car?”
“I figured I’d take the car, though parking will be a challenge.”
“Okay,” he says. If I thought I was getting conversation from him, I was wrong.
I trace a line in the condensation on my glass and muster the courage to say something that’s been running through my mind all day. “Mitchell, I know I’ve asked this before, but since I’m leaving, I’d like to give you money for bills, or something toward the mortgage. It’s not right that I’ve been staying here all this time without contributing,” I say.
He stares at me, the frown on his face not detracting one bit from the beauty of his strong features. “That’s not necessary.”
“Even if it’s not necessary, it’s only right,” I say.
“I’m sure you’ll need your money,” he says. “City living is expensive, from what I hear.” I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off. “When do you think you’ll be leaving?” he asks.
His question hits me like a door slamming in my face. When I recover, I say, “Day after tomorrow, I think.”
“Okay. Let us know if you need anything.” And he's gone.
I keep busy the next day and time passes quickly, despite the
heavy sorrow weighing me down. On the morning I'm leaving, all three of the Nolan brothers help me load the car without saying much.
Sometimes my arm brushes one of theirs as we're passing through doorways or reaching into the trunk. Each point of contact feels like an open wound. I know they're not feeling it like I am, and that somehow makes it worse, though of course I don't want them to be in pain.
When everything’s loaded, they stand next to the driveway, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
“I think I've taken care of all of my mom's stuff. If you find anything else, please let know.”
“Of course we will,” Finn says.
“And I'll be in touch,” I say, stepping forward just one step, looking between them while I try to figure out what to do with myself. I feel detached all of the sudden, like it's not me standing there wondering how to say goodbye to the three people I love most in this world.
Mitchell looks away. I step up to Finn first and wrap my arms around him. “Take care of yourself,” I say, squeezing him hard. My mind may be watching from above but my body feels the warmth, strength and the tenderness in his embrace. We hold each other long enough for me to have second, third and even fourth thoughts about what I'm doing.
Finally I pull back and step over to Reid. As I move in to hug him, he tips my chin up and kisses me. It's different than any other kiss we've shared — not sensual, but more than friendly. It makes me want to cry.
I cut it short and burrow into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, wishing I'd stolen one of his shirts so I could pretend Reid was with me anytime I felt down. “Don't burn down any kitchens,” he says, rubbing my back affectionately before we separate.
Mitchell is a few steps away but I cover the distance quickly, wanting to feel him against me but afraid to look into his eyes. He's still and stiff, but he folds me into his embrace and holds me for a long time. “You're always welcome here, April,” he says quietly. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Let us know you made it there safely.”
I nod again as I move quickly to the car.
I wave a hand from the window as I pull out of the driveway. I can't bear to look back.
Goodbye. I'll miss you. I love you. The unsaid words reverberate through my head as I drive out of town.
18
All Three of Them
I'm up early out of habit, having a cup of coffee and trying to figure out exactly what I’m going to do with my day, when Christine comes out of the bathroom in a robe, her eyes sleepy, her hair a tousled mess.
I push a mug into her hands and sit quietly while she caffeinates.
Her first words of the day are, “Looks like the country air’s been good to you.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
She takes another gulp before answering. “Your face. It's fuller, and your skin is a healthy color.”
“That's good, I guess.”
“You look great. Like you've been taking care of yourself. Still sad around the eyes, but much better than when you left.”
I've missed her bluntness.
She drains her cup and gets up to make another. “So really, why did you come back?”
“I just thought it was time,” I say. I run a finger slowly around the rim of my mug.
“What happened out there in that fresh, country air?”
“What makes you think something happened?”
Christine stares at me as she takes a sip of her second cup. Her eyes challenge me, but I stay mum. “You may as well just get it over with and tell me,” she says. “You know I'll keep asking until you do.”
I sigh. She's right. I do know that. “I got too involved,” I say.
“Mmm… let me guess which one…” She looks up toward the ceiling with a faraway expression, thinking hard.
I keep quiet and let her think. I could never choose among them, so I’m curious who she’ll choose for me.
“Reid,” she says finally. “He’s the middle one, right? The one with the special sparkle in his eyes.” She’s watching me as she talks. “No, wait. Finn — the younger one. It was him, wasn’t it?”
This game is no fun at all anymore. It hurts like hell, even from so far away. “I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you,” I say.
“The oldest one? You’re right, I am surprised. He seemed so stiff…” I don’t know what my expression is telling her, but she trails off. “What happened, April?”
“It was all three of them,” I say, my voice low.
She stares for at least ten full seconds. “What exactly do you mean?” she asks.
“I was involved with all three of them. Together.”
Her jaw literally falls open. Then her eyes light up. “I joked about that when we met them,” she says. “Wow. You — I did not know you had it in you,” she says. “I’m damn proud of you, friend.” She pats my shoulder as if offering congratulations.
I can’t even force a smile.
She mouth turns down in sympathy when she notices my face. “Aww, what happened, sweetie? It got too complicated? Male egos get in the way?”
“No,” I say. “It wasn’t like that at all. It felt so easy and so right. For all of us, I think.” I pause to think about what to tell her and realize a small measure of relief is coming over me. I hadn’t realized how bottled up I’d felt, not sharing this with anyone.
“Then what happened to make you leave?” she prompts.
“Well, when we first got together, they were clear in saying we were just having fun. I had my reservations, you know. Even though it felt right between us, it didn’t feel like we were doing the right thing. Does that make sense?”
“A little. I mean, I know why you feel that way.”
“We talked about it, and they said, if we were just having fun and making each other feel good, then what was the harm.”
“Yes,” Christine says, nodding her head.
“But it was more than just fun to me. I fell for them. Really hard.”
“Did you tell them?”
I shake my head and look down at my cup. “What good would that do? I didn’t want them to feel bad. They probably already pitied me, seeing what a mess I was when they came here… I didn’t want them to pity my feelings for them.”
She’s looking hard at me.
“And then, I found out that they’re having financial problems. You know our parents didn’t have a will together. Their dad had an old will, and things have been a mess. I found out their business could go under, and they need to sell the house.”
“So you don’t want to deal with the mess of their money problems?”
“No, I don’t want to be one of their money problems. I heard their aunt tell Mitchell he should sell the house, and he said he needed a place big enough for all of us to live.”
Christine takes a moment, processing. “So he wants you to keep living with them. I still don’t understand why you left.”
“He considers me as someone he has to take care of. I needed to get out of the picture so that they could do what they need to do to save their business.”
Christine finally takes another sip of her coffee, which is probably cold by now. “I don’t suppose you talked with them about any of that, either.”
“I told them your company had a job opening and I had an interview. I didn’t want them to stop me from trying to leave.”
I can see Christine’s mind turning all this over as she looks at me. She can probably see the truth — that I did want them to stop me from leaving, and that even though I know it’s irrational, it hurt that they didn’t ask me to stay.
“So, is your company, by any chance, hiring?” I say. I force out a small laugh that ends up sounding bitter and pitiful.
She just continues to stare at me, and I get the sense that there’s a lot she wants to say that she’s holding back. “I’ll check,” she says finally. “They might be.”
As I’m rinsing my mug, Christine says, “I’ll he
lp you find a job if you help me find three men as hot as yours.” She doesn’t realize the impact of what she says, but the word “yours” hits me like a blow to the chest. Yours. They were never mine, but I wish they were.
“Wait a minute,” I say. “Three men? What happened to Dustin?”
“Dustin is… no more,” she says with a sigh.
I sit back down and ask her all about it. It’s refreshing to hear about someone else’s problems for a change.
There’s no luck at Christine’s company so I spend the week pounding the ample pavement on a job hunt. I’m not eager to return to corporate America, though I could probably make more money working in an office.
Instead, I take my waitressing experience and put in applications at nearby restaurants. There are more than a dozen within a two-block radius.
As I navigate the crowded sidewalks, it feels like I've been away for much longer than a few months. I get claustrophobic pushing through the tightly packed crowds, and I have to stop myself from looking for familiar faces among the thousands of strangers.
Inside the restaurants, employees and owners are unsmiling and abrupt, taking me by surprise because I never before noticed what now seems like rudeness.
I'd always loved living in the city but suddenly it has my skin bristling in discomfort. Late each afternoon, I escape to the park near the university. In my old life, I'd loved it for the people-watching opportunities, for jogging, and for studying under the canopy of a tree.
Now it feels as necessary to my survival as food. I don't think I'm truly breathing properly until I'm in the open spaces inside its borders.
As good as it feels in one way, it hurts me too. My thoughts have space to expand when I'm in the park, and that is not a good thing.
The small duck pond that had once seemed completely benign is now only a painful reminder of the day I swam in the lake with Mitchell, Reid, and Finn. My body aches for them, and reminding myself that I did the right thing does not help at all.
Three Brothers: A Menage Romance Page 12
