Chapter Thirty-One
Leo
Dropping down on the bed beside a very satisfied-looking Mitch, I heard his soft I love you to Gabe, and peeking around him, caught Gabe’s caring reaction to the words. His reply of thank you saddening me because he still hadn’t quite reached the right place to tell Mitch what I’m sure he hoped to hear, but I understood Gabe’s reluctance to fully let Mitch in. I wondered if he reminded him of one of his exes, or if they had the same type of personality, perhaps? Either way, I had to work hard to suppress my anger at the damage they’d undoubtedly caused him.
Despite his air of arrogance and don’t-give-a-crap attitude, he took everything into his heart, and for them to trample all over it made my blood boil. My one consolation, and I didn’t care how selfish that made me, was Gabe now belonged to us—me and Mitch—and we wouldn’t be foolish enough to make their mistake. Now we’d gotten him, we were not letting him go, no matter his insecurities, no matter how much effort it took, we’d protect him with all we had.
“We need to change the sheets,” Mitch grumbled, “only I’m too tired to move.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, and rolled off the bed. “Where are they?”
He vaguely pointed at the closet, so I headed over and got a fresh set, ordered them both off the bed and handed them to Gabe. I removed the sweat and cum-stained sheets while he replaced them with the clean ones. Mitch slid under the covers as soon as we’d finished, like a big ole bear hibernating for the winter, as he snuggled down.
“Move over.” I poked him in the side and got a grunt for my efforts. “Put Gabe in the middle.”
His tired eyes lazily opened, and I sighed, hopeful I’d get to wake up with him all sleepy and irritable a lot more often. He studied me for a second before giving a nod, immediately understanding the need for my request without me having to explain. He dutifully rolled toward my side as I got out of bed and went around the other, so Gabe was now sandwiched between us.
“I’m fine,” he protested. “I don’t need to sleep between you great lugs.”
“Uh-huh,” I replied, ignoring him, climbing under the covers, and scooting close as he moved to the middle.
“Size of you two, I’ll probably be crushed by the morning.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Will you stop with the fucking uh-huhs? It’s true.”
Planting a kiss on his cheek, I grinned. “Yes, dear.” His baleful glare was so darn cute.
“Let us take care of you, okay?” I said, running my fingers through his thick, shiny hair. I preferred him a little ruffled and not so perfect, as it gave the rest of us a chance to look good for a second or two once in a while. “Please?”
He grumbled something I didn’t catch but silenced his protest. I turned off the lamp on the nightstand, and we settled in. Pitch-black here in the woods with no light pollution at all, the moon appeared extra bright through the windows, its milky whiteness leeching all the color from the room. Snuggling down and wrapping my arm around Gabe and him relaxing against me was complete and utter bliss. I closed my eyes and dropped off to sleep a minute later.
*
The morning sunlight shone brightly into the room when I gradually awoke and lazily stretched, arms above my head, legs extended. I’d pretty much recovered from my aborted escape ordeal, and my spirits lifted at being fully healed once again, no longer feeling like I’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.
I gradually resurfaced to full wakefulness and let my surroundings filter into my awareness, frowning when I realized the bedroom was quiet. Too quiet. No sound of light snores from either of them, and no warmth from Gabe’s sexy body either. Reluctantly opening my eyes, a cold empty bed greeted me, instead of the men I loved. I hadn’t heard either of them get up and, anyway, why hadn’t they woken me when they had? What were they doing together that didn’t include me?
A clinking sound came from the hallway at the same time the bedroom door opened, and Mitch walked in the room with a large wooden tray. Any lingering worry I might have had dissipated as the distinctive smell of bacon hit my nose. I might have emitted the slightest squeal of pleasure, and I didn’t care in the least.
“Have you made me breakfast?” I asked in astonishment.
“We have.” Gabe followed behind Mitch with a smaller tray carrying a carafe of coffee, three mugs and some creamer.
“Oh my God,” I choked, trying to swallow the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “No one’s ever done that for me.” Blinking back what must be the remains of grit in my eyes from sleeping—certainly not from tears—I stared at them as the trays were placed on the nightstands on either side of the bed. “Oh my God,” I whispered again because, seriously, this can’t be my life.
I sat up and leaned against the headboard to get a better look at what they’d made. The bigger tray held bacon and scrambled eggs, but also thick sausages, mushrooms, and hash browns, plus slices of buttered toast. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
Mitch came over to me, leaned in, and kissed my forehead. “It’s about time someone looked after you for a change,” he rumbled.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” He picked up a plate of food, some cutlery and a napkin and handed them to me. “Just eat.”
“That I can do.” I smiled up at him as the damn grit in my eyes made them water even more. Gabe filled a mug of coffee, added some creamer, and passed it to me along with a light kiss on my nose.
“If you two wanted to make me breakfast in bed every weekend, you’d get no complaints from me.”
“Every weekend, huh?” Mitch queried as my brain finally caught up with my overactive mouth.
“I didn’t mean we’d be living—I meant, if we ever, if we—” Embarrassed, I gave up and forked in a mouthful of eggs to prevent more babbling. Closing my eyes and savoring the taste, I hummed appreciatively.
Fingers lovingly brushed over my jaw, and I opened my eyes. “I get what you mean,” Mitch said, his gaze, so full of love, made me want to pinch myself to make sure this was real.
Settling themselves one on either side of me, they rested against the headboard, feet crossed at the ankles, and the scene was all so normal I loved every second. Nobody talked as we ate the delicious food that, judging by the spiciness of the scrambled eggs, Gabe had made or at least had a hand in preparing. Instead, I soaked up the complete domesticity of having a simple cooked breakfast with the men I love.
“We thought we’d go cut down a tree after breakfast,” Gabe spoke around a mouthful of bacon.
I was so thrilled Mitch had agreed to having a Christmas tree. I’d only had a fake one in my tiny apartment in Boston, and at home, Mom would have some company choose our tree and decorate it for us, as she was far too busy with the women’s auxiliary, or whatever other committees she volunteered for, to take the time to decorate it herself with me and Jackson and Caitlin. I was excited and over the moon to think not only did I get to pick a tree for the first time in my life, but I got to decorate one too. “Sounds perfect.”
A couple hours later, the five of us—because no way were Chuck and Norris not being included—were wrapped up warm against the freezing cold and traipsing through the forest to the area Mitch and his wife had always gone to pick their own tree every year.
“What about this one?” Mitch asked.
I studied his choice. “It’s got too many branches on one side.” He moved on to the next and the next and the next.
“This one?” Gabe asked, sounding exasperated at my continued refusal of every tree they suggested. I ignored him and my tiredness due to trekking through the freezing snow all morning. Maybe I hadn’t made as much of a recovery as I’d anticipated. I didn’t care, though, and would have trudged in the snow all day, because if I intended to pick out my first ever Christmas tree, I wanted it to be perfect.
Careful with my steps in the high drifts, I made my way over to a pine tree half hidden behind a couple of others. Nice thick branches to hang a multitude of Christmas baubles from, it had the right height at about eight feet, and the exact triangular shape I’d always imagined. “This is the one,” I stated triumphantly.
“Oh, thank God,” Mitch replied. “I didn’t think this search would ever end.” My death stare had no effect, except making the cheesiest grin possible stretch across his face.
“Asshole,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“Okay. Let’s get this thing chopped down so we can get back to the cabin. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
“Nice.”
He shrugged his shoulders and, shucking off the massive backpack he’d brought with him, pulled out a chainsaw that belonged in a slasher movie instead of the snowy scene around us. I made sure to move well out of the way.
“What?” Mitch grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Hell, no.”
He pushed some buttons before pulling on the start cord a few times. The engine hummed for a couple seconds before the grating whir of the blades echoed all around us, deafeningly loud as the sound bounced off the surrounding hills. Squatting down under our tree, Mitch expertly cut through the bark, making short work of the thick trunk. He looked like a real lumberjack and, as visions of him sweaty and stripped to the waist in a pair of snug overalls whizzed through my mind, I had to adjust my hardening dick, which pushed against my jeans.
Gabe sniggered and winked at me, letting me know exactly where his mind had gone. “Our very own sexy lumberjack,” he remarked, echoing my thoughts.
Not long after, we trudged home, all three carrying the tree between us. Once there, we lowered our cargo carefully on the porch, close to the door. Mitch took the couple of steps back down to the yard. “I’ll go get the lights and decorations.”
“You need any help?” Gabe asked him, concern in his eyes.
His gruff, “I’m good,” didn’t appease Gabe at all.
“You sure? We could—” I stopped him talking by placing my hand on his arm.
“He’ll be fine,” I said gently, getting me a worried look from Gabe. “Let him go.”
Mitch hadn’t waited and was already halfway to the barn in the far corner of the yard.
“He needs to do this on his own.”
“Doesn’t make me not want to be there when he does.”
“Me too, but I don’t think he’d want us to be.”
Gabe kept his eyes on Mitch’s retreating form. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Giving his arm a squeeze, I called the dogs, and we headed inside, marking time by sitting together on the sofa, waiting for Mitch to return. When we heard his boots on the porch, we were up and off our seats and opening the front door the same time he got there. He held a tree stand and a bag overflowing with lights in one hand, and a large box of Christmas decorations propped under his other arm.
“Here, let me.” I took the stand and the bag containing the lights from him. He didn’t say anything, his face remaining solemn, but the rims of his eyes were red where he’d been crying. I leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. In that moment, I’d never been more proud or loved this tender-hearted man more. “Let’s set up the stand and bring the tree inside.”
We worked in harmony, setting the stand in place and slotting in the tree, ensuring it was perfectly straight before securing the base.
“You got any dark chocolate?” Gabe asked Mitch.
“Probably a bar in the cupboard. Why?”
Gabe winked at him. “You start work on the tree, and I’ll be back in a bit.” He turned and headed toward the kitchen.
“Hey,” I complained. “You can’t get out of decorating the Christmas tree.”
“I won’t,” he called out over his shoulder, but he didn’t return to help us.
Bringing the heavy box of decorations closer, I opened the flaps up to see what we had to work with, being careful as I pulled out lots of smaller boxes containing ceramic baubles we’d use later.
“She always wrapped them so carefully at the end of the holidays,” Mitch explained, his tone wistful. “Wanted to make sure none of them got broken.”
“I can understand why,” I replied gently, as I removed the tissue paper from the nearest one. The hand-painted bauble was in the shape of a small round Santa complete with a sack of presents. The bright red and white of his suit a lovely contrast to the brown sack bursting with gifts. “It’s beautiful,” I replied, awed at the intricacy of the work.
“She made a new one for us every year.” He had a catch in his voice, making my heart ache.
“Your wife made all these herself?” I asked in surprise, extremely impressed.
“There’s an artist in town who specializes in ceramics. She took numerous classes on how to make them. She loved crafting and would make all different types of things. When she’d come home, so excited about each new creation, her face would light up when I’d tell her how beautiful they were.”
His choked sob had me pulling him into my arms and hugging him hard. “She sounds like an amazing person, Mitch.” He clung to me and nodded as another sob broke from him. I didn’t say any more, just held him as he worked his way through his sorrow. He wasn’t finished by a long shot, but at least he’d finally begun to release the long-held grief he’d been carrying around since his wife had died.
After a few more deep sniffs, Mitch pulled away and wiped his nose along his sleeve. I let him have that one.
“Here we go,” Gabe chimed, as he entered the sitting room, halting when he took in Mitch’s tear-streaked face.
“I’m okay,” Mitch declared. “Guess, I got a little more emotional than I expected.”
“Well, I have just the thing to remedy that.” He handed us each a mug. “Careful, it’s hot.” Peering over the rim, a loud ooh left my lips, when the most delicious-smelling hot chocolate filled my nose.
“There weren’t any marshmallows, so you’ll have to make do with whipped cream.”
“It looks delicious, thank you,” I said and took a sip. The creamy chocolate sliding over my taste buds was followed a moment later by something much, much stronger. My eyes flashed to Gabe who gave a knowing smirk.
“I might have added a bit of a kick.”
“A bit?”
“Okay, a lot. I found some rum in a cupboard and decided what the hell. We needed to warm up after being outside in the cold, right?”
“We do,” Mitch added. “I’m not the greatest fan of hot chocolate, but this is so tasty,” he admitted, taking another mouthful.
We finished our drinks and began decorating the tree. Mitch checked the lights, because of course he would. Obviously, we didn’t have the necessary skills to complete such a complex task, as we were only a successful construction company owner and a lawyer, after all. He methodically inspected every single one and after plugging them in, replaced any dud bulbs with the pack stored at the bottom of the box. We were allowed to help him wrap them around the tree branches, following his commands to make sure they went in the interior, as well as on the edges of the tree.
“They look beautiful,” I commented, staring at the multicolored lights twinkling back at me, so happy and excited I got to do this. The baubles were added next, and both Gabe and I made sure to be extra careful with Katie’s ceramic ones as we hung them on the branches.
When Mitch completed the tree by adding the angel at the top, Gabe and I stood on either side of him, my arm around his waist and Gabe tucked against his chest.
“Katie would have loved this,” He informed us a little sadly. “Decorating the tree together was her favorite part of the holidays.”
Going forward, I hoped the tradition would become mine too.
My hand sat snugly tucked in the top of the back pocket of Mitch’s jeans, so I felt his cell vibrate under my fingers, a notification he’d received a message. Retrieving his phone, I handed it to him, watching as his whole body tensed up, and his face clouded over when he read the text.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“It’s from my friend at the fire house. They’ve started work on repairing the bridge with some temporary support beams. They’ll be working through the night and will be finished tomorrow.” He swallowed. “You’ll be able to leave.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I need to go check on the horses.” Mitch stepped out of our embrace and, shoving his phone into his pocket, headed for the front door, his shoulders tense, arms rigid at his sides, and his usual easy walk, stiff and jerky. He hastily threw on his thick jacket and boots.
“Mitch,” Gabe began.
“I won’t be long.” He refused to look at either of us as he left.
“Fuck,” Gabe swore.
“You can say that again.”
“What the hell are we going to do?”
I had no clue. I’d grown so used to being in our bubble of three, the world outside had ceased to exist for close to a week, and I was extremely reluctant to venture back into reality. Here, Mitch and Gabe loved and respected me. I meant something, had worth to these two amazing men.
Out there, I was Malcolm Taylor’s disappointment—the failure unable to keep a job, unable to seal the deal. My stomach churned at having to return to reality, and I fought against the urge to throw up, the bile rising in my throat leaving a bitter taste in my mouth after the sweetness of the hot chocolate.