Dad:he’s orla’s boyfriend
Willow:So? I don’t think she’d mind if you were a little bit gay together.
Christ on a bike. I heaved a grumbly sigh and rubbed my eyes. Lida came over to investigate and flopped down beside me, dumping her tail in my face.
I pushed it away and pondered Willow’s message. She was a wind-up merchant—to me, at least—and likely didn’t expect a response, but if she did, what the fuck would I say?Hey, kid, I know Orla wouldn’t mind if I fucked her man’s brains out, I’m already fucking out hers on the regular. But that boyfriend and girlfriend shit doesn’t include me.
Cos I was their... what? Fuck buddy?
Their sexual experiment?
No. I knew that wasn’t it. And I was content enough with my lot that they didn’t need to define jack shit to me. But for whateverundefinable reason, not having a tangible answer to Willow’s questions bothered me.
“This, Locke, is why I love you.”
Bet it wasn’t.
Or was it?
Damn.
I wasn’t a human who could endure tying my brain in knots. I fell asleep instead and woke sometime later to the smell of roast chicken and the sweet sensation of a dude lying next to me on the floor.
Nash.
I opened my eyes. He was staring right at me, face inches away, those blue eyes a heady mix of humour and affection.
Of desire.
Man, he was pretty. I tucked a curl behind his ear before I was truly reconciled with being awake, and he laughed.
“You’re cute, brother.”
“Says you.” I blinked hard and sat up, stretching the kinks from my older-than-both-of-them muscles and joints. “What time is it?”
“Dinner time.”
Worked for me. I accepted Nash’s hand and heaved myself from the floor. Not my dog was nowhere to be seen, but I found her in the kitchen already with her face in a bowl of fresh chicken and the posh raw nuggets Folk had bought her. “She doesn’t waste any time.”
Orla was at the stove, hair piled on top of her head, a legit apron tied around her biker-chick clothes. “She’s a smart one. Sit yourself down, mister.”
Nash was already there, poking at his phone in the soft light of the room, a candle flickering in front of him.
Orla brought dishes to the table and swiped the phone. “You’re ours for the night.”
Ours. I took a seat beside him, imposter syndrome warring with how fuckin’ much I liked the sound of that. How much Ilovedthese intimate moments with them. Romance had mostly given my life a hard pass, but these two beautiful fuckers made it seem so effortless.
So easy.
The table was round. Orla sat on my other side, completing the circle, and nudged a bowl of potatoes at me. “Eat.”
I obeyed with the same enthusiasm I felt when she urged me to fuck her. The girl could cook, and I was fuckin’ hungry. Also, I loved watching women eat. This woman, in particular. Her plate was as full as her heavenly thighs, and with Nash’s knee nudging mine under the table, I could exist in this moment for the rest of my life.
It made me wonder if this was how their rare nights in together played out and if I should’ve left them to it. Orla was stuck with me most days, whether she wanted to be or not. Her time with Nash was precious.
She flicked my ear.
I blinked. “What?”
