I am so, sosad.I thought I belonged here, and I don’t. I miss this place so much it hurts.
He rubs a hand up and down my back soothingly. “Aye, that’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Cry if you need to. God, look at you, expressing an emotion instead of bottling it up. I’m very impressed. Have you been practising?”
I snort against his shirt, and he smiles down at me sadly, wiping my cheeks dry with his thumbs. “I like you like this,” he says, like he’s telling me a secret. “I love you like this.”
I heave in a shuddering breath, my eyes falling to his lips.
There’s a footstep in the hallway. We both look up. Cameron is staring at us both. I can’t tell if he’s more jealous or horrified.
“Why’s she crying?” he demands. “Is she okay?”
It would be so easy to smile and tell him I’m fine. Instead, I just shrug.
Fraser groans. “She’ssad. ’Course she is. I’m sad. You’re sad. This is a sad situation. We love her, and we don’t know if she can stay.”
Cameron’s mouth clamps shut. He looks absolutely miserable.
My last string of self-control snaps. I hold my hands out. “Take me to bed?” I ask them both.
Fraser and Cameron lead me back to the guest bedroom. Fraser drops onto the bed and tugs me into his arms. Cameron slides under the covers behind me and starts slowly smoothing a hand up and down the curve of my hip. I close my eyes, overwhelmed by howgoodit feels to be pressed between them both again. For a moment, we’re all just quiet.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark. “I still don’t know if I’m going to stay.”
Fraser sighs. “Aye. We know. You can’t really stay here if you don’t make up with Alec.” He tucks my head under his chin. “We’d go with you,” he murmurs. “Me and Cam. Back to London. Or anywhere else you want to go. It could be us three. But I guess that’s not what you want, is it?”
I shake my head, tears springing up again. The idea is tempting, but I’d feel awful separating the men, and I’d miss Alec terribly. Even now, it feels like there’s a gaping void where he’s meant to be.
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” I mumble into Fraser’s neck. “I’m just scared. Sorry.”
“Don’t say sorry,” Cameron speaks up, sounding annoyed. “When you’re afraid, it’s not your job to stop being scared. It’s our job to convince you you’re safe.” He presses closer, warm breath huffing against my cheek. “Love you,” he says simply.
“I love you,” Fraser repeats. I shiver, overwhelmed. “God. This is all I’ve wanted in the last week, London. Just this.” He squeezes me gently in his arms. “Missed it sogoddamn bad.”
I nod. So did I. We all lapse into silence, breathing together.
Fraser lifts his head. “Almost as much as I missed our fingertips romantically touching whenever we cuddled her in bed, mate,” he whispers to Cameron. Cameron just grunts, pulling me in closer to his chest. I close my eyes.
When I sleep, I don’t dream at all.
SEVENTY-NINE
SUMMER
In the end, it takes a full week for the council to respond to our social media campaign.
One week. For seven whole days, it feels like life is almost back to normal.
I go to bed every night with Cameron and Fraser. We don’t have sex or kiss, but by God, do we cuddle. Every morning, we linger in bed, stretching out our time together for as long as we can before we all have to get up and work.
I decide to stay at Lochview until the council reaches their decision. If they go through with the purchase order, I want to be here to do another social media push.
Although, to be honest, I’m not sure what else I can do. In a week, Lochview’s socials have blown up. The guys’ account now has over a hundred thousand followers. Several of their videos have gone fully viral, including—unsurprisingly—one of Cameron wading through one of the nearby rivers to grab an escaped lamb, his clothes transparent and stuck to his skin. The account’s inbox is overflowing. Some of the DMs are just thirsty, but there are business offers too. Several local clothing brands want to try Lochview’s wool, and multiple journalists have picked up on the Lochview story.
I should be happy. Everything is going exactly to plan.
But I’m so sad. Every time I open up my accounts, my feed is flooded with videos of me and the men at the club. My comments are full of people either gushing over our relationship or calling me a slag. Everyone assumes I’m dating the guys.
And I’m not.
