"As time went on, it just kept happening," I say. "Luke’s good at reading people. He could tell when I liked someone, even when I didn’t say it. He’d handle the conversation, and if she was interested in both of us, we’d take it further."
"Wow," she says, and there’s no judgment in it, just quiet curiosity.
"He suggested we bring you in earlier," I admit.
Her breath catches. "Really?"
I nod. "I said no."
"Because of Reid’s rule?"
"No." I hold her gaze. "Because I felt too much for you. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it."
She swallows, and I see the impact of that settle in her. "And now?" she asks quietly. "What do you think now?"
Now. The truth sits right there, clear and heavy. I open my mouth, try to say it, but the words stall, too big, too real.I’ve never said anything like this out loud before, not where it mattered. Instead, I lean down and kiss her, deep and slow, letting it say what I can’t. My nose throbs where Luke had hit it earlier, but I ignore it. None of it matters. She tastes warm, soft, already familiar. My body melts into hers, heat building again, rising fast. She moans into my mouth, and I shift against her until there’s no space left between us. I want her again. Not just once. Not just tonight. I want all of her, over and over, until there’s nothing left of me that isn’t tied to her. Only her.
CHAPTER 33
Sierra
We set off back to the retreat early the next morning, after a delicious breakfast and a fond farewell from Hazel.
Most of the ride is completed in companionable silence, the truck humming beneath us as we take in the scent of damp earth and pine and the chirping of early birds in the wake of the storm. The wind and rain ceased sometime in the early hours of the morning, and now the sunshine is back. The world feels washed clean, like everything has been reset overnight.
First stop is back to where my car is parked, with Tal’s truck tucked up next to it, as if keeping it safe. I jump in and try it, but of course nothing happens. Tal jumps out and heads to his own truck, saying he’ll go organize a tow for my car, and telling the rest of us to head back to the retreat, since it was very rare for none of the boys to have been there for this long.
He gives a brief wave, reverses out onto the road and heads off in the direction of the nearest town where there’s a guy he knows with a tow truck. That leaves Luke and me sharing thefront bench seat with Reid in his truck, and it’s just about wide enough for the three of us, though only barely.
I’m in the middle, my left thigh pressing against Reid’s, my right shoulder squeezed against Luke’s side. I hold hands with both men, my fingers threaded through theirs, and when my head settles against Luke’s shoulder, he presses a quiet kiss into my hair with a tenderness that makes something deep in my chest soften.
Reid doesn’t seem to mind. He’s watching us with that amused, knowing look, like he’s already filed this away as something to tease me about later.
I still can’t quite believe this is real. That I’m actually attempting to date three men at the same time. The thought should feel absurd. It does, a little. But it also feels… right.
Even so, I’m aware that I need to be careful. If we’re really doing this, I can’t let things tip too far in any one direction. I have to be mindful. Balanced. Fair.
The rest of the drive passes with Reid at the wheel, whilst Luke fiddles with the radio eventually finding a local station that’s playing what appears to be an endless stream of pop songs he seems to know word for word. He sings along shamelessly, tossing his blond hair, clapping his own performance at the end of each track like he’s singing to a crowd at a stadium gig somewhere.
I laugh more than I expect to, the sound of it surprising me, light and unforced.
By the time the retreat comes back into view, something flutters low in my stomach. It shouldn’t feel different. It’s the same buildings, the same stretch of land, the same place I left less than a day ago. Yet it does feel different.
Or maybe it’s me that’s different. The grass is brighter after the rain, the air clearer, a faint rainbow still hanging in the distance like the last trace of the storm. It all carries the quietsuggestion of a fresh start. At the same time, everything about the place feels deeply familiar. Grounding. Like stepping back into something that already knows me. Welcomes me. I didn’t realize how much I would miss it until I thought I’d lost it.
Leaving hit harder than I expected. Harder than it should have. Part of that was them, of course. The idea of leaving my men behind had hollowed something out in me. But it wasn’t just that. I wasn’t ready to leave this place either. Not the slow mornings. Not the breakfasts. Not even the meditation sessions I’d rolled my eyes at in the beginning and yet had somehow come to depend upon. Not to mention the people who had, without me noticing, started to feel like something close to friends.
And there was still so much I hadn’t explored. Therapists I hadn’t spoken to. Things I hadn’t tried. Given everything, that feels less optional now. More necessary. Now I understand why this place has the reputation it does.
Even at the half-invested level I had been giving it, it’s given me a kind of peace I didn’t realize I was missing. Back home, I fill every spare second with work, noise, distraction—anything to keep my mind from circling back to things I don’t want to face. Here, that noise and activity is somehow allowed to quieten to a stillness that we twenty-first century, cellphone and media-obsessed folk seem to have lost.
Sometimes, I just sit. Watching the light shift across the trees. Watching the sun dip below the horizon. For a while, my past doesn’t come clawing its way back to the surface.
“Home sweet home,” Luke murmurs as the truck rolls to a stop and Reid applies the parking brake. Reid jumps down, heading straight for my side like he can’t quite wait to be near me, despite us being thigh-to-thigh throughout the entire journey.
My heart melts. It reminds me of breakfast, of the quiet, almost ridiculous competition over who got to sit closest to me. I know I should find it childish. Instead, it warms me.
God, I really am doing this. Three men. One relationship. It still feels surreal. The happiness sitting in my chest is so bright it almost makes me uneasy, like I’m waiting for something to come along and ruin it.