“We share everything else,” Cole says, and I feel the hum of his words through my body. The space around us is charged withall that potential energy I felt before, with Dane. It’s my body leaning into the next moment, sure that something amazing is going to happen.
What do Iwantto happen?
“Not happening.” Dane’s voice is hard, exacting. He pointedly doesnotlook at me.
“Don’t think about what youshouldwant,” Nico says, narrowing his eyes at Dane. “Just think about what youdowant, man.”
Dane shoots Nico a glare and pushes his leg away, which just brings it closer to me. I resist the urge to rest my hands on his skin, to touch him. My palm still remembers anchoring on his thigh when I was sucking his cock.
Jesus.
Despite everything—the blood on Nico’s cheek, the adrenaline of the fight—I’m actuallyturned onright now.
Or, maybe, it’s notdespitethe fight, but because of it.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, realizing they’re all looking at me. Watching me. Waiting for ananswerto this crazy question. “I need—I need some space.”
The effect is instant. Dane and Nico scoot back, and Cole manages to sit up, lifting me and depositing me on the ground like I weigh nothing at all. He scoots back as well, until we’re all facing one another, eyes darting around, the space between us an empty reminder of the fight that just took place.
“Lucy,” Dane says, his gaze firmly on the floor. “This is an HR nightmare. If you’re uncomfortable, we can call the plane back. Get you home. If you want to resign, we’ll ensure you have the full severance package?—”
“JesusChrist, man,” Nico whispers, a touch of amusement to his tone, as always. But there’s also something else there. Annoyance? Or, it’s like there’s a bad taste in his mouth, but he’s hiding it. “You’re offering her hush money?”
Dane’s eyes flash, and he glances over at Nico with a grim expression. Something passes between them, a sort of understanding, and I’m reminded of their long history. How well they know one another.
“No,” Dane states, simply. “Not hush money. But a way out if she wants, to find another job.”
“I don’t want another job,” I breathe, emotions all choked up in my chest. Now that the adrenaline is crashing, reality follows right on its heels. I look up at all of them. “This is the best job I’ve ever had. And I…”
We share everything else.
They want me. All three of them. At night, in some of my dreams with Dane, the other men would appear. But I never let myselfreallythink about that urge. Never let myself think it could be a reality.
For the past month, I’ve been grappling with my feelings for each of them, trying to decide. Trying not to think about what might happen if any of them found out about the other.
And now, here I am, with an offer on the table.
That shame is still bubbling inside me, but less fervently now.
Don’t think about what youshouldwant.
What Ishouldwant is a nice Lancaster boy. A house down the street from my parents. A baby on the way, soon, so Mary’s baby can have a cousin not too much younger than her. A whole brood of kids running around, their ages slotted in and around each other. Shared birthday parties and my parents, beaming at being a grandma and grandpa. Some job in town, or not, if my husband makes enough that I can stay home.
Ishouldbe okay with one man. With my canvases getting dusty and my paints drying up, and someday, one of my kids finding them in the attic, saying,I never knew you could paint.
But as good as I’ve gotten at pretending, I’ve never managed to pull it off. I think that’s what Frankie saw in me, that first day of freshman orientation.
I think about Frankie now, eating popcorn and cackling in heaven, swinging her legs and cheering for me, for this situation. For what I have within my grasp.
Three insanely handsome men, whoallwantme. Who want toshareme.
Maybe this won’t be forever. Maybe it’s not love. Maybe someday I’ll have to tuck myself away on the shelf, go back to my small town to keep my family happy.
But for right now, I want to chase the sun while it’s still shining on me.
“I don’t want the severance package,” I say, suddenly. Only seconds have ticked past, but it feels like an eternity. Looking up, I meet each of their gazes, one at a time. “I want this.”
“You want…?” Dane starts, clears his throat, and looks away. I may not know them as long as they’ve known each other, but I can see his reluctance for what it is. Dane denying himself, forcing himself into a shape in which he doesn’t quite fit.
