“And if I say no?”
My throat swallows convulsively at the thought. “If youtell me no after you’ve taken time to think this through, we’ll talk more, okay?” I can’t tell her I can keep her all to myself and leave my twin out in the cold. But I also can’t imagine ever letting her go. All I can do is hope that she’ll see the sense in this arrangement. That she’ll desire to be shared.
Silence hangs between us for a long moment.
Finally, she nods. “Okay. I’ll think.”
“Good.” I lean in and kiss her, deep and slow. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She wraps her arms around my shoulders and rests her forehead against mine, breathing me in, and I whisper a prayer that she’ll decide that building a life here with us is what she wants.
Chapter 17
Joelle
Wade leaves soon after his confession, the rumble of his truck fading down the long dirt road until it melts into the horizon. The silence he leaves behind grows louder by the hour.
At first, I miss the comfort of knowing he’s close: his big hands, and the way he folds me against his chest like he can quiet my whole body with nothing but warmth and strength. But as the afternoon stretches on, my body reminds me of every choice I’ve made these last few days.
By six, I’m aching.
By seven, I’m desperate enough to shove folded tissue into my bra in a pathetic attempt to catch the slow leak that keeps blooming through the cotton.
Wade’s idea, this whole shared family dream he talked about, has been sitting in the middle of my mind all day like a heavy stone as I’ve tried to make sense of how two men could both want that… could want me.
Not the abstractideaof sharing a woman, or the fantasy or the kink of it, but me with all my baggage, my baby, and my still-hurting heart.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understandthem.
And even though I keep telling myself it’s wrong, I can’t help circling back anyway, considering the reality of a life like that. Would they want to alternate sharing my bed, or have me together? The idea turns my face molten. Before Wade, I could barely remember what sex was like, and now, I’m trying to find the imagination for a lifestyle most people would never consider.
I flush, remembering how I used to watch Wade and Caleb working, their work-hardened bodies slick with sweat, wondering what it’d feel like to touch them. My teenage self was torn up inside at being aroused by them both. Even years later, I still feel the same conflict.
I step out onto the porch to breathe, escape my own swirling thoughts, and I sink into the corner of the swing with a soft groan. The boards are warm from the day’s sun. The cicadas hum in the fields in rhythmic rasps that lull some calm into me. The air smells like hay and a hint of the cinnamon bread cooling inside, homely in a way that settles into my bones.
My breasts throb, a heavy tug over my ribs. I press my palms gently against them, trying to ease the pressure.
Eli and Rick have already eaten and left. Caleb wanted to shower first, and now his footsteps sound against the kitchen floor. He steps out onto the porch with his plate of dinner, his hair curling damply over his collar, and the scent he carries hitting me in a rush: soap, sun, and something warm and male that’s just a little different to his twin.
Caleb settles beside me without a word, the swing creaking under his weight.
“This smells good,” he says, forking a piece of chicken.
I nod, content that I’m at least doing my job correctly, and he eats in silence for a few minutes. I keep shifting, trying not to wince when another pulse of fullness hits. When I rub the top of my breast, discreetly, I hope, Caleb’s eyes flick down, then back up, gray and gentle with concern threaded through them.
“You hurting?” he asks quietly.
I swallow. “It’s been… a while.”
He nods, and I wonder how open Wade has been about my problem and his solution. Caleb’s gaze drifts back to my swollen breasts, but he’s polite enough not to comment. Instead, he eats another bite, his knee brushing mine every so often, and it feels like torture, because I can’t stop thinking about the conversation Wade and I had.
I’m overwhelmed by the idea of being shared by two rugged cowboys, and the worst part is, I don’t even know if Caleb’s in on any of it. It would be just like Wade to make bold promises without bothering to make sure the rest of us are playing the same game. Maybe he’s already moved the pieces in his mind, drawn out the whole map. But if Caleb doesn’t know, or worse, knows and thinks his brother’s crazy, then what the hell am I even doing here?
I can’t build a future on one man’s fantasy, not if the other isn’t dreaming it with us.
The truth is, I’ve spent my whole life dodging hard conversations. It’s how I ended up raising a baby on my own in the first place because I didn’t chase after the man who left me aching and alone at the county fair. I told myself there was no point. That if he’d wanted to stay, he wouldhave.
