Chapter 47 Tytus
Chapter forty-seven
Tytus
Mercer crouches before us, looking first to me, then to our girl. “Come on,” he encourages, offering his hands. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.”
Sawyer lets him help her to her feet. As he wraps her in the discarded flannel she was using as a makeshift pillow and ushers her out of the living room, I sit up and stretch out my neck. When my incisions burn from the pull, I suck in a sharp breath.
“Time for more meds?” Noah sidles over, dressed in just a pair of sweats.
He puts a hand out, and I take it, allowing him to help me up.
I snag a pair of sweatpants off the floor, step into them, then stand slowly, shifting my weight as more aches make themselves known. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Follow me.” He saunters out of the living room and starts up the stairs.
With each step up, pain radiates through me. My knuckles are nearly white as I grip the railing to keep myself from tumbling backward.
I’m sore as hell.
But that was so fucking worth it.
“There’s another bathroom down the hall,” Noah says as we reach the landing. “I’ll meet you back out here in a minute.”
While he steps into the first door on his right, I head down the hall as instructed.
I piss and clean up the best I can, washing my hands thoroughly before returning to the hall. While I wait for Noah to return, I study the photos of smiling people that make up a gallery wall across from me.
The door closest to the stairs cracks open and Noah emerges, followed by his dog, who darts down the stairs.
“What’s in there?” I ask as he shuts the door behind him.
“It’s the primary bedroom. Here.” He holds out his hand, dropping four red pills into my palm. “Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen. This should help you sleep.”
I accept and swallow them dry.
Speaking of sleep… The bed in Mercer’s room is really only big enough for two people, and I don’t see him offering to take the floor again tonight.
Honestly, he and Noah did me a solid last night, letting me sleep beside Sawyer. I didn’t realize it in the moment, but they trusted me. And they prioritized my comfort, because like hell could I have slept on the floor. Or worse—in a separate room from my girl.
Tonight’s different.
Everything’s different now.
If they want to sleep with Sawyer, I’d be okay finding somewhere else to rest my head.
As much as I’d love to hold my girl all night, my commitment to try isn’t just about sex.
I need to be considerate of their needs and willing to share in other ways, too.
Plus, I’m exhausted and in a fair amount of pain.
I don’t care where I sleep tonight, as long as it’s in a real bed.
I tip my chin toward the primary. “I assume there’s a bed in there?”
“There is,” he hedges, grimacing. “But it’s off limits.”
I frown. “Why?” Despite what these guys have thought of me up until now, I’m not asking to antagonize him. I’m genuinely interested, and for some reason I don’t understand, I feel safe enough in his presence to ask questions.
He turns to the door and stares at it for a few seconds. When he turns back to me, he’s wearing a disapproving scowl that makes me feel surprisingly small.
Fuckin’ A. With a grimace, I shake my head. I didn’t mean to piss him off—
“My wife died. That was our room. That was our bed.”
Shock slams into me, sending me back a step so I bump into the wall.
He’s a widower?
How did she die? How long has she been gone?
Most importantly, does Sawyer know?
He sighs, then provides a few more crumbs of information, as if he’s read my mind.
“Her name was Meg. We were college sweethearts. She died tragically and unexpectedly. And yes, Sawyer knows. If you have questions, you can ask, but not tonight. I’m exhausted, and if I fall into a grief spiral in the middle of a snowstorm, it won’t do any of us any good. ”
That’s a sentiment I can appreciate.
But now I’ve made shit awkward, and fuck—I don’t know what to say. Should I offer condolences? He said point-blank he doesn’t want to talk about her right now. Which I guess is okay, but I still don’t know if I’ll have a bed to sleep in tonight.
I lean against the wall and regard him. Before I’ve thought better of it, I say, “Dead people don’t come back, ya know.”
Noah’s face twists up in anguish, and I have to look away, my chest suddenly aching.
“That’s a pretty awful thing to say.” His reply is stilted and husky, like he’s barely keeping it together.
Dammit. I should apologize. Instead, I hear myself trying to justify my slip-up. “Maybe. It’s always felt more like a hopeful promise for me.”
The more I think about it, the louder the warning bells in my head ring. If this guy is still so wrapped up in grief he’s declared an entire room of his house off limits, what sort of emotional bandwidth does he have to support and love Sawyer?
I’m tempted to double down.
But that word echoes in my head. Enough. The definition is different for everyone. Hell, the definition could even be different from day to day.
So what if he’s grieving? Who cares if he can’t be everything for her, all the time?
That’s why she has me. And Mercer, too.
So much about the logistics of a group dynamic is foreign and convoluted to me. I never envisioned sharing my girlfriend with other people, but stepping in to fill in the gaps for each other and creating a foundation of care that extends beyond a two-person partnership honestly makes sense.
I sigh and straighten, ready to apologize.
Noah beats me to the punch.
“Dammit,” he mutters, running one hand through his hair. “You know what? You’re right.”
I shake my head, shame rolling through me. “I’m not,” I insist. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He closes the space between us and hooks his hands over my shoulders, pulling me into a hug.
His hold is timid, like he doesn’t want to scare me off or squeeze too tight.
I find myself lifting my arms and hugging him back.
Fuck.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
He’s thanking me? For what?
“There’s no reason that room has to remain a mausoleum,” he says as he pulls away. “It’s the biggest room in the house. It’s got a huge en suite bathroom. And the bed’s big enough for all four of us.”
All four of us. My throat clogs with apprehension.
I really didn’t think this through.
Could I sleep with Noah and Mercer in the bed tonight. Or ever? I mean, maybe someday. Eventually. But I think I’ve done enough trying for one day. I’m bone-tired, and I know myself well enough to know I’ll lie awake on high alert if I have to cuddle up between two other guys right now.
Laughing awkwardly, I try to shrug off the idea. “I wasn’t suggesting we all have a sleepover tonight.”
Noah lifts his eyebrows in challenge.
It disarms me sometimes. The way he reads me so well and subtly calls me out on my bullshit.
“I—fuck.” I duck my head and scratch at my neck. “I don’t know if I could relax enough to sleep like that. No offense, man. I’m just… today was already a lot, ya know?”
He holds up both hands. “I get it. But the room’s here, and it’ll be an option if we want to use it. Someday.”
I lift my head and blow out a long breath. “I can’t promise it’ll ever be an option. But I’ll work on it.”
He cants his head to the side and takes a small step forward, gripping my shoulder, his touch firm but not aggressive or domineering. “Don’t push yourself. She knows you’re trying.”
I search his eyes, considering if this is when I should clam up and brush him off, or if this is my chance to be honest with someone besides Sawyer and Atty.
And it’s been a long time since I had someone to talk to other than them. The last person who really saw me was Dr. Davvies, and it’s been a long-ass time since I’ve had the privilege of confiding in him. But Noah puts me at ease in a way no one else has since then.
Clearing my throat, I hold his gaze and try to formulate an explanation that makes sense. “I just feel behind, ya know? The three of you are so comfortable together.”
He chuckles lightly. “Comfortable is a stretch. I was stunned the first time Sawyer, Mercer, and I were together. I was closed-off and kept freezing up. I’m still not entirely comfortable, but I’m getting there.”
“How’d you deal with it? Those first few times, I mean?”
Amusement dances across his expression, but then he shakes his head and homes in on me. “I focused on her. Her happiness. Her pleasure. It helps that I trust Mercer implicitly.”
I snort. I can’t exactly say the same.
“Maybe with time?” he suggests, his brow creased.
I shrug. I don’t want to come off as unwilling, but Mercer and I have a long way to go.
“Do you at least trust me?” He crosses his arms, studying me a little too intently.
In most circumstances, I’d shrink under an assessment like this.
At the very least, I’d look away. But I feel a kinship toward Noah.
Despite being much older than me and having very different life experiences, he always speaks to me respectfully and he seems to consider me, always ensuring I have medication, providing me with extra clothing, that kind of shit.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
He grins. It’s a wide, full-face smile that makes the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. The kind that radiates joy.
“So focus on that,” he encourages. “Focus on that trust and how much joy Sawyer gets from the dynamic. I don’t want to make any false promises, but this all might start to feel good sooner than you think.”
Doubt nags at my gut.
I want him to be right. I want to make good on my promise and give Sawyer everything she wants and deserves out of life.
I lift my hand to my sternum without conscious thought and rub at the tightness coiled in my chest. “What if it doesn’t?”
His expression softens, a flash of sympathy passing as quickly as it came on, which I appreciate.
My fears aren’t warranted or unwarranted; they’re just… fears. They’re valid. They could very easily tear everything apart, destroying this happy ending for all of us.
I’m a risk. Including me like this, trying to make this work with four, when they were getting along just fine as three—fuck.
I’m the weakest link.
The urge to get away from this conversation and hole up alone is overwhelming. My heart thumps heavily against my sternum, warning me to move. But before I can flee, Noah reaches out again, this time gripping both my shoulders.
“Relax,” he assures me.
In most scenarios, that’s the worst thing to tell a person who’s upset. Yet somehow, the single word soothes me.
I take a deep breath. Then another.
Nothing’s going to get figured out tonight. It’s not fair for me to dump all my anxiety on him like this anyway.
“If this doesn’t go the way we’re all hoping, we’ll adapt,” he says.
“We’ll follow your lead, do whatever feels like it’s in the highest service of everyone.
Maybe that means you have your own room here.
Or maybe there’s a clear boundary, and you’re only ever with Sawyer, instead of participating in group stuff like tonight.
I can’t speak for Merce and our girl, but I think they would be okay with that.
There are no set rules, no specific way this has to work.
Just so long as it comes together in some way. ”
He squeezes both my shoulders once more. “I’d hug you again if I thought you were a hugger—”
“I’m not.”
Chuckling, he raises both hands in surrender.
“I don’t see any version of a future where we’re not all in her life.
But we don’t have to stick with a set timeline or path.
We’ll figure it out. And I’m here to help in any way I can.
” He turns and pads deeper down the hall.
“Come on. There’s a spare room down here.
The bed’s already made. You can sleep there tonight, unless—”
“There is good,” I insist. “Honestly don’t know if I could make it down and up the stairs again.” I follow him, head down. “Just tell the others I said good night?”
Stopping at another closed door, he smiles, soft and sincere. “You got it, pal.”