“I love you,” he told Reese.
“I know.Now be quiet and get some rest.”
Because his husband was insistent, Brantley did exactly as he instructed.
If he’d had anywhere else to go, Atticus would’ve gladly gone there.He had dropped Archer at the B and B, and only half wished he had a room there for the night.
Instead, he found himself pulling into Slade’s driveway a little after eight, tense from the thought of arguing with the man.
Ever since Slade shut down his request for help, Atticus had given considerable thought to where they were in their relationship.More accurately, he’d been trying to figure out how it had gone so horribly wrong so quickly.One minute, the three of them were fucking like rabbits, agreeing to keep things casual between them; the next, Slade was on a tear, accusing Atticus of cheating.
And Carson hadn’t seemed all that worried about anything.Not Slade’s constant accusation, not Atticus’s concern over it.No, if he didn’t know better, he would say Carson had already checked out.But why?He was the one who had pushed for this.
Right?
Or had that been him?Had he gone and fucked it all up by wanting more than he should have?
He wished he understood what had prompted Slade to become so defensive.And what had made Atticus think they could somehow make this off-balance threesome work.It wasn’t working.Not for any of them.
He parked his truck beside Slade’s and killed the engine.He got out, considered leaving his bag, but figured he needed to do laundry at the first opportunity.
By the time he made it to the door, he was grinding his teeth, hating that he was dreading this.
The door was unlocked, making it easy to let himself in.He noticed the house was dark and quiet.Since he hadn’t let Slade know he was on the way, he wasn’t sure who Slade was expecting.Maybe Carson?
Oddly, he found he didn’t care.Without making a sound, he made a detour to the bathroom to take care of business.He decided he would wait to shower until morning.In order to be up at the ass-crack of dawn, he would need the cold wake-me-up.
Once in his room, he closed the door, again making no sound.He stripped down to his boxers, plugged his phone up to charge, then fell into bed.He stared up at the dark ceiling, hoping sleep came quickly.
It sucked that things had gotten to this point.That he was hiding out from Slade, while at the same time wishing the man would come to him.And Carson … it felt like just yesterday that Atticus had been blown away by the man.He’d been taken aback by Carson, intrigued.He came along at a time when Atticus’s entire world was changing for the better, and he had mistakenly believed that it would go somewhere.That was the first time he’d ever thought long-term about anyone.
Then Slade had disrupted that little picket-fence dream when Atticus had stumbled upon the guy jacking off and calling out Atticus’s name.From that point forward, he’d been confused.Well, confused and excited by the prospects.Especially when he learned that Carson and Slade had history.Unfortunately, it was more like bad blood than days gone by.Yet Atticus had pushed to see where things went because he’d been selfish, not wanting to give up either of them.
And here he was, sneaking into the house while Slade was likely sitting in his bedroom, watching TV or playing on his phone.
It was sad when he thought about it.
Sad, but, at the same time, it felt inevitable.
