“Tomorrow, we make a plan.” Quain kissed the top of KC’s red hair, cradling his head like the precious thing it was. “Wewill get through this. Together. All of us. You. Me. Barber, even if he’s a teasing shit. And Oliver. And maybe Barber’s pain-in-the-ass brother, too.”
“I have a name,” I muttered.
“Do you? I can’t remember it.” Quain’s smile told me this was okay. We were okay. He was right. We’d get through this together. “Let’s get you to bed.”
KC muttered, but he allowed Quain to pull him to his feet. Quain led him to our bedroom, and Oliver and I followed. Oncehe had him under the covers, tension released from me and my shoulders slumped.
“Thank you.” The gratitude I felt for Quain was a mountain of emotion I didn’t want to study. It was deep and cutting, but so very real.
Quain eyed me as he quietly shut the door. “He’s exhausted. He’ll sleep tonight, but I’ll be back in the morning. Like I said, we’ll make a plan then.” He glanced from Oliver to me. He drew a gasp from me when he dragged us into a two-armed hug. “I don’t trust many people with my son, but you did good tonight. I’m glad you called. You might be the right men for him after all.” He stepped back, straightened his polo shirt, and cleared his throat. “This never happened between us. See you tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
Then, he was gone so fast it was hard to believe he’d been here.
“What do we do now?” Oli leaned into me again, and I wrapped him up in a hug. He was warm but shivering anyway.
“Get in our PJs and cuddle our man so he knows we’re here. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” Oli whispered. “Exactly where I want to be.”
Me too.
19
OLI
Most of the time we slept naked. It was strange that we’d dressed in pajamas for bed. The bottoms I had on were soft and warm, perfect for a cold December night, and the long-sleeved shirt was thin and comfortable. None of these homey things changed the fact that it wasn’t what we usually did. The difference was messing with me.
My jaw ached and I forced it open to wiggle it. The clamp on my lungs didn’t loosen up. Ren had fallen asleep holding KC, and I wasn’t sure when it had become Ren’s job, but each night he turned out the lamp. I hadn’t cared enough to do it, so now I was staring at the way the shadows made his cheeks seem even more angular. KC had his face buried against Ren’s neck. Most of what I could see of him was red hair, the sweep of his strong jaw, and his curved neck, which was so tense he would probably wake up with a crick.
This was wild. KC was the steady one, the one who made peace and laughed and joked when Ren and I would prefer to be cursing at each other. He balanced us out. How would Ren and I help him? We could barely function ourselves. Neither one of uswas an expert on how to be happy. We stumbled into feeling less like shit and sort of hoped things would stay that way.
I watched them for a while longer, but when my stomach growled, I got out of bed, snagged my phone off the nightstand, and padded into the kitchen. I dragged my phone out again and sighed.
9:43 p.m.
Still early.
Since I was hungry, I raided the pantry and found a pub mix—I loved the sesame seed pieces—and chocolate-covered pretzels. Neither snack was very filling. After hemming and hawing over my options, I made two turkey sandwiches and pulled up a seat at the island.
Fuck it. I grabbed a beer, then settled in for real.
As I ate, guilt grabbed me with sharp teeth. When did things with KC get so bad?Howdid they get so bad without us noticing? Sure, we were all busy, but there should’ve been signs he was getting close to cracking, right?
I didn’t quite get what had happened with the team. KC had muscle. In fact, recently, every ridge of his hard-on inducing abs had been popping out more than usual. But maybe that was because he was losing weight? I upended my beer and gulped the hopsy brew, grimacing when it was empty and the bitter aftertaste hit. I could understand a lot of things, but I didn’t know how to help KC with this. When people got hungry, they ate, right? Food was fun. Food was a function of life.
How did you help someone withbeing alive?
“Hey.”
I flinched at Ren’s voice but gave him a grateful smile when he grabbed a beer, then took the seat beside me. He poppedthe top. I glanced at him. He was wearing blue-and-green plaid pajamas. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d bought them for himself. Where did they come from? Were they left over from his parents? His last boyfriend? Girlfriend? Sometimes I wished I knew more about him. Whose fault was it that I didn’t? His? Mine?
God knew I couldn’t ask him about it.
“Ten bucks says you can’t get the top in the trash from here.” I nudged him with my elbow.
“Child’s play.” He took aim, then let the metal fly. It bounced off the rim of the can with a clatter. We both groaned as it skidded across the floor and under the fridge.
“Boo,” I said.
