“Yes.”
“Do you want to be with her and her alone?”
“Yeah, if that’s what she wanted.” Both answers came out fast, but Brent didn’t miss the difference. He didn’t need his therapist to point it out to him.
“We all make compromises to be in relationships. And sometimes what is best for the relationship is a third and separate thing from what is best foryouand what is best forher. But most of the time, healthy relationships try to find the compromise point that is closest to both of those individual ideals.” She paused when he frowned. “Okay, put this another way. Does Jess want to be with you?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“And does Jess want to be with you and you alone?”
He thought of the look on her face when Evan touched her, when the other man showered her with concern and attention. “No,” he said softly. “I’m not sure she does.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
The question struck him sideways, like a glancing blow that didn’t hurt, but still startled him. After considering it for a beat, he shrugged. “Fine.” He grimaced. “I think that’s the wrong answer, though.”
She gave him a soft smile. “Says who?”
18
Evan had never spent so much time staring at his phone before. His fingers itched to tap out a quick message.
Evan: Hey. How’s it going?
But who to send it to? Jess? Brent? And what followed next, an inquiry as to whether or not they’d talked to their spouse?
It was like being in post-first-date limbo with one person, and an early flirtation with another person—maybe? What was Jess playing at?—when the most realistic next step would be the two of them to fight and make up, or fight and break up, and neither of them to ever talk to him again.
So he put his phone away.
And took it out.
Over and over again while he was on his trip, until he finally fired off the same text to both of them the day before he returned to Wardham because fuck it, he wasn’t twenty and didn’t need to play games.
He wanted to know how they were. Individually and together.
He cared far too much, but maybe the fact that they had a bond—messed-up and maybe doomed as it was—gave him some play there. Like, he could care about them, because no matter what, they cared about each other more.
No matter what, there was no happy ever after in his future with either Doran.
So in the meantime, while Brent figured out who he wanted to fuck and Jess figured out that she was worthy of being fucked, Evan could be a bit player in their larger game.
And how sad was it that he was suddenly more comfortable with the contact now?
Be messed up with me. Not much of a sales pitch. But it was all he had.
When his phone dinged fifteen minutes later, the raw flood of anticipation took him by surprise and made his throat dry. Which one was it?
Which one did he want it to be?
Both.
Damn it. He wanted them both. He reached for his phone.
Brent: Just getting off three shifts in a row. Exhausted, but looking forward to a few days off.
Evan: I’m going to be zonked when I get back, but I like to push myself a bit to get over my jet lag. Got any plans?
