I heard Harper's truck first—that familiar rumble that made my pulse jump despite myself. Then the growl of Remy's motorcycle, arriving almost simultaneously, like they'd timed it. Silas, of course, made no sound at all. I only knew he was there when I looked out the window and saw him standing at the edge of the dock, still as a shadow, watching the other two approach.
I took a deep breath, smoothed down my sundress, and walked out onto the porch.
They were already sizing each other up. Harper stood by his truck, arms crossed over his massive chest, his dark eyes flicking between Remy and Silas with barely concealed wariness. Remy had one hip cocked against his motorcycle, his usual easy smile nowhere to be seen, his amber eyes sharp and watchful. Silas hadn't moved from the dock, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands hung loose at his sides—ready, always ready.
"Well." I said, descending the porch steps, feeling all three gazes snap to me like magnets finding north. "This isn't awkward at all." I kept my voice light, teasing, trying to break the tension that crackled in the air like static before a storm.
Harper's lips twitched, just barely, the ghost of a smile flickering across his stern features. "Chere." He rumbled, his deep voice soft with something that made my stomach flip, his dark eyes warming as they settled on my face.
"Cher." Remy echoed, pushing off his motorcycle and taking a step toward me, his honey-blond curls catching the late afternoon light. "You look beautiful." He said it simply, without his usual flirtatious flair, his amber eyes sincere in a way that made my chest tighten, and somehow that made it mean more.
Silas said nothing, but his pale eyes tracked my movement as I walked toward them, and I could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing against my skin, steady and focused and warm.
"Inside." I said, gesturing toward the cabin with one hand. "We have a lot to talk about." I turned and led the way, not looking back to see if they followed, my heart pounding against my ribs.
They did.
I settled into my favorite armchair, the one that gave me a view of both the room and the door, and watched as they arranged themselves around my small living room. Harper took the far end of the couch, his bulk making the furniture look comically small, his massive hands resting on his knees. Remy dropped into the opposite corner, as far from Harper as he could get while still being on the same piece of furniture, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Silas remained standing, his back against the wall near the window, positioned so he could see everyone and every exit, his pale eyes watchful.
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.
"So." Remy said finally, breaking the quiet with a laugh that sounded forced even to my ears, his fingers drumming nervously against his thigh. "This is cozy." He glanced between Harper and Silas, his amber eyes bright with something that might have been nervousness or challenge—I couldn't tell which.
"Thibodaux." Harper's voice was a low rumble, neither greeting nor warning, just acknowledgment, his dark eyes fixed on Remy's face.
"Fontenot." Remy returned, matching his tone exactly, a hint of his usual mischief creeping back into his expression, his lips quirking slightly.
Silas said nothing, just watched them both with those pale, assessing eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, the dog tags at his throat catching the light.
"Alright." I leaned forward in my chair, drawing all of their attention back to me like iron filings to a magnet. "Cards on the table. You've all had your dates. You all know what that means." I let my gaze move from one to the next, holding each of their eyes for a moment before moving on. "You know what I'm asking for. What I'm offering." I paused, letting the words settle into the quiet room. "The question is whether you can actually do this. Whether you can share me without tearing each other apart." I kept my voice steady, my chin high, projecting a confidence I didn't entirely feel.
The silence that followed was different—charged, expectant, heavy with possibility.
"I can." Harper spoke first, surprising me with his certainty, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes fixed on my face with that intensity that always made my breath catch. "I told you, at the gazebo. I want this. Want you. Even if I have to share." He swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. "Doesn't mean it'll be easy. Doesn't mean I won't struggle." He glanced briefly at the other two men. "Doesn't mean I won't want to claim you as mine and mine alone." His jaw tightened, the muscle flexing beneath his clean-shaven skin. "I'm willing to try." He finished, his voice rough with sincerity.
"Same." Remy said, his usual lightness gone, replaced by something more serious, more real, his amber eyes dark with emotion. "I've been running from real things my whole life. I'm tired of running." He glanced at Harper, then at Silas, something flickering in his expression. "I can't promise I won'tbe jealous. I can't promise I won't want to punch Fontenot's pretty face sometimes." A ghost of his old grin appeared, his dimples flashing briefly before fading. "I want to try. I want to be someone worth wanting." He looked at me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I'd rarely seen from him, his hands no longer drumming but clasped tightly together.
Both of them turned to look at Silas.
He was still against the wall, arms crossed, face unreadable as stone. For a long moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer at all, and my heart sank toward my stomach.
"I've spent five years not feeling anything." He said finally, his voice low and rough, his pale eyes fixed on some point over my head. "Not wanting anything. Not letting anyone close." He uncrossed his arms, his hands falling to his sides, his scarred fingers curling and uncurling restlessly. His gaze finally dropped to meet mine, and the vulnerability there stole my breath. "Then you asked me to show you who I really was. And I did. And you didn't run." Something flickered in his expression—wonder, maybe, or disbelief. "I'm not good at sharing. I'm not good at a lot of things." His jaw clenched. "For you?" He took a breath that seemed to cost him something. "I'll learn." He finished quietly, the words carrying the weight of a vow.
I felt something loosen in my chest, a knot I hadn't realized I'd been carrying since this whole thing began.
"Okay." I nodded slowly, looking at each of them in turn. "Okay. Then let's talk about how this actually works." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs, trying to project calm even as my heart raced. "Rules. Boundaries. Expectations." I held up a hand, ticking off points on my fingers. "I need to know what you can and can't handle. I need to know where the lines are. Because this only works if we're all honest with each other." I let my hand drop to my lap. "All of us." I finished firmly.
"Ladies first." Remy said, a hint of his charm creeping back, though his eyes remained serious, his body leaning toward me slightly.
"Fine." I took a breath, organizing my thoughts. "I won't compare you to each other. I won't play favorites. When I'm with one of you, I'm fully with that person—not thinking about the others, not wishing I was somewhere else." I paused, making sure they were all listening, watching for any sign of doubt or resistance. "In return, I need you to trust me. Trust that I care about all of you. Trust that I'm not going to choose one and discard the rest." I let that sink in before continuing. "I also need you to respect each other. You don't have to be best friends. You don't even have to like each other." I glanced between Harper and Remy, who were studiously not looking at each other, tension visible in the set of their shoulders. "You just have to be civil. No fighting. No sabotaging. No going behind each other's backs." I kept my voice firm.
"What about..." Remy hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly, a rare show of uncertainty. "What about when things get... physical?" He asked carefully, his amber eyes darting between me and the other two men.
"We haven't gotten there yet." I felt my own cheeks warm, heat crawling up my neck. "When we do, we'll figure it out together. What everyone's comfortable with. What everyone wants." I met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away. "I'm not going to rush that. For any of us." I let the words settle.
"What about time?" Harper spoke up, his dark eyes thoughtful, his brow furrowed slightly. "How do we divide it? How do we make sure it's fair?" He asked, his deep voice quiet with genuine curiosity.
"I was thinking we keep the Thursday meetings." I said, glancing around the room at the three of them. "All four of us, together. Check in. Talk about what's working, what isn't." Ipaused, considering. "Individual time we can figure out week by week. Whoever needs me most, whoever has something going on." I shrugged slightly, my bare shoulder lifting. "I'm not going to keep a spreadsheet. I'm just going to try to be present for all of you, as much as I can." I looked at each of them in turn. "Does that sound reasonable?" I asked.
