Chapter 23 Kamirah #3
"I overheard you that night in Fiji when you were talking about your fantasy. I was attracted to both of you. It started off with me wanting sex.” He shrugged, then gently tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear.
His hands were already warming up, the chill from when he’d walked in slowly dissipating.
“Then it turned into so much more. I couldn't give you up. On Friday night, I’d decided I would block your numbers when I left the chalet. But I couldn’t bring myself to. ”
He turned to Chris and admitted, “I wanted to come clean with you so many times, but I was scared. I knew what it would mean for you—there was no way you’d be able to stay hidden.
The whole fucking world knows my sexuality.
If they saw us together, rumors would start.
I couldn’t do that to you. Not again. Not to someone who I'd started falling for. "
"And now? Are you still falling?" Chris asked.
"No.” He shook his head, and my heart stuttered. “I've fallen. I'm in love with both of you. I think I have been ever since Fiji."
I stepped closer to him, pressing our bodies flush, and ran my hand over his stubbled jaw. “It’s really you?”
He nodded, and I dragged his face to mine and pressed our lips together.
His deep moan spurred me on, and I ran my tongue along his lower lip, needing another taste of the man I’d only sampled for the first time two nights earlier.
After everything we’d done, all the time we’d spent together, every conversation and text, this was the thing I’d wanted most. He opened immediately, letting me take the lead.
I slid my tongue in alongside his and tasted him, teasing him with barely there touches and long, lingering presses of our lips.
We broke apart, gasping for breath and I hated that this conversation wasn’t over yet. I wanted to focus on Chris, on getting him better so he could kiss Locke like that too. But first, I needed to know why Locke had run.
Chris spoke first. “That day I spoke to you about coming out—”
“Thanksgiving?” Locke asked.
He shook his head. “You must have thought I was a piece of shit for lying.”
Locke huffed out a laugh that held no humor. “You want to talk pieces of shit for lying? I think I’d win the trophy for that, don’t you? I thought you were smart to feel out what my experience was and so fuckin’ brave, too, Chris.”
Chris blinked, his eyes going glassy, and he nodded, then squeezed Locke’s hand harder.
I nuzzled Locke’s throat and pressed a kiss below his ear, silently thanking him for his words. But I needed to know why he’d run.
"You were going to come out to us on Friday night, but you didn't. Why?" I asked. “Was what you said in your texts true?”
"All of it. I'm so sorry. I did plan on telling you. I wanted us to have the weekend to figure out whether we could make this thing between us work. But then you told me you loved me being your secret, and it hit me.” He shook his head, and his shoulders slumped.
“I was being selfish, pursuing what I wanted, not what you needed.
If I tried to be with you, I would have upended your carefully constructed world.
I wanted to protect you from all that. But maybe if I'd—"
Chris shook his head and winced again. He tried to sit up but sucked in a sharp breath and groaned. "No. This was my decision. It was time, and I knew they wouldn’t take it well. I just didn't think it'd be this bad or hurt this much."
"Oh, my beautiful boy." Locke leaned forward, cupped Chris’s face with infinite tenderness, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He did it again, kissing a gentle line along his jaw.
Locke touched his forehead to Chris's, breathing the same air as him while still holding me tight. "I'm so sorry they hurt you."
We stayed like that until Chris groaned again.
“What do you need, hon?” I asked.
“I need to piss.”
“I’ll give you a hand,” Locke offered. He eased Chris’s blankets back and insisted on helping him lift his legs over the side of the bed.
Then once he was steady, he helped him stand.
Chris grumbled that he wasn’t an invalid, but Locke wouldn’t give an inch.
He wanted to look after him—he probably needed to given the state he’d found Chris in—and I was happy to watch Locke take care of our man.
I smiled. Locke Ledger was ours. It was surreal. The one man Chris and I had truly fantasized over had just told us he was in love with us.
Locke was careful, touching Chris gently and making sure he was steady before guiding him toward the attached bathroom. Chris closed his eyes and exhaled heavily after his first step, and they made their way slowly, arm in arm.
Locke opened the bathroom door, and Chris tilted his head, taking notice of his clothes for the first time. “Dude, what are you wearing?”
He unbuttoned the trench coat to reveal a lightweight karate gi.
No wonder he’d been freezing when he walked inside.
“I was in the middle of a sparring session when Kam called me. Sensei insisted I listen to her message given how much of a basket case I was, and after I listened, I called her back. I dropped everything, went straight to LAX, and got on the first flight out here.”
“You were walking around LAX and Boston Logan wearing a vigilante trench coat and a karate gi?” I asked, biting back a grin. It was the first smile that had cracked my lips since we’d seen him last. The weight that had sat on my shoulders loosened.
“You needed me.” He shrugged and smiled shyly at me.
“Locke,” I called. He and Chris paused, and I returned his smile. “I only loved you as our secret because that’s how we got to have you. For the record, I always wanted more.”
“Thank you. For clarifying.”
I bit my lip, and the flutters in my belly increased until I was practically floating. “I love you too.”
“Me too. I love you too,” Chris said, leaning gently against Locke. He pressed a kiss to Locke’s lips, then gestured to the bathroom with a tilt of his head. “But I really need to go.”
I giggled, and Locke apologized, color creeping up his throat.
Chris used the bathroom, and then Locke helped him back into bed while I organized a personal shopper to get us all a few changes of clothes and some toiletries.
We were going to be here for another couple of days—I wasn’t leaving to get our luggage, and Locke didn’t have anything close to warm enough for a Boston winter.
“So…,” Locke started. “About us—”
“I’ve already told Chris that he doesn’t make the decisions here. We all do. We’ve already said how we feel, and Chris came out to the people he had been in the closet for—”
The knock on the door sounded just before it was cracked open. “Can I come in?”
“Dad, what are you doing here?” Chris asked tiredly, relaxing into the mattress.
Locke didn’t hesitate. He strode across the room, a thunderous look on his face.
He yanked my father into the room and pinned him up against the wall with a hand around his throat.
Dad’s cane clattered to the floor, and he instantly put his hands up in a surrendering motion.
But Locke wasn’t seeing it. His eyes were locked on Dad’s, and he’d closed his free hand into a fist. He snarled, fury boiling in him until he was red-faced and breathing hard.
“No,” I screeched. I rushed over and wrapped my hand around Locke’s fist, trying to stop him from striking out. “Locke, this is my dad, not Chris's. He’s checking on him.”
"Oh, fuck," Locke cursed, immediately letting Dad go. He stepped back and raised his own hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean, shit. No, I mean, sorry, sir."
"Son," Dad greeted with a croak while rubbing his throat.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were—"
Dad nodded. "I know, and I'm glad you reacted the way you did—it's exactly the way Kam reacted and how I would have twenty years ago, but my cane makes it difficult.” Dad gestured to the floor where his walking stick lay.
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry," Locke bumbled out. He bent over and picked it up, then handed the old-fashioned timber cane to Dad. Locke was flustered, his cheeks flushing an adorable pink. It was the sweetest thing and so very different from the man he’d been a moment earlier. He held his hand out for Dad to shake and added, “I’m Locke Ledger, sir.”
“I know who you are, son. Everyone who’s turned on a television does.” Dad shot him a smirk and added, “John O’Leary.”
Locke offered Dad a chair, and he sat down slowly.
“Are you okay, Dad?” I asked.
He smirked and shot back, “I’m okay. Locke here didn’t hurt me, but truthfully, you hit me so hard that I still haven’t found my second testicle.”
Locke froze and Chris blinked. “What?” Chris asked.
“I kind of, maybe, punched Dad in the nuts so I could get outside to you.”
Locke coughed out his surprise and shook his head while trying to hide his small proud smile.
He leaned back against the bed next to where Chris was lying but didn’t touch him.
I watched as Chris took him by the wrist and deposited Locke’s hand onto his head.
Locke flushed and moved his hand down to Chris’s nape, playing with his loose hair and massaging his neck.
“I’m sorry I stopped you from going outside, Kamirah,” Dad said, then slid his hand over the rounded top of his cane, focusing his attention on it. He wiped off an imaginary mark and sighed softly.
“Why did you stop me, Dad?” I asked quietly.
He hooked his cane over the back of the chair, rubbed his forehead, then gave us his attention. In that moment, he looked like he’d aged a decade, exhaustion riding him hard.