22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Molly
“We left a little surprise for you upstairs,” Preston said, kissing me until my toes curled in my socks.
“I hope you guys have a good game,” I murmured, snuggling against him and loving the smell of his cologne. Our bodies fit together like we were made for each other. All the awkwardness between us was gone.
Emmett walked in, incredibly sexy in his game day suit, and I looped my arms around his waist as he tucked my hair behind my ears and kissed me. He licked his bottom lip, and I wondered if he could taste the kiss Preston gave me.
“Write your heart out, Rookie.”
“I’m going to write about yesterday. And the day before. And this morning,” I said, grinning.
“Perfect,” he murmured, kissing me again.
They had a couple of days off and we had taken full advantage of them.
But tonight was game night, and I had to take some time to work on my manuscript.
As much as I wanted to walk out the door with them, wear their numbers, and cheer them on, I had to get my butt in the chair and get some words down.
The second they left, I sprinted up the stairs to see what they’d left behind.
Sitting on my desk—I had no idea how they put it there without me knowing—was an adorable bouquet of wildflowers and a gigantic basket of snacks.
I plucked a note sticking out of the flowers and kicked back in my chair, grinning so big my cheeks hurt.
We’ll miss you terribly.
Have fun writing. You’ve got this!
Love, P & E
I held the note to my heart as I rummaged through the basket. Drinks, jerky, chips, dried fruit, some freeze-dried peas that looked interesting, and a bar of chocolate. There were more than enough snacks to tide me over until they got home.
Preston’s hands on mine. Emmett’s mouth tasting every inch of me. My body responding, stretching open to take each of them. Individually and at the same time.
It was all I could think of.
But I had a manuscript to write.
I poured every ounce of missing them into those pages, only stopping for the most necessary breaks.
“I missed you so much.” Preston wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. I grabbed Emmett, bringing him into our group hug.
“It was only a few hours,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Preston was always dramatic, but when it was aimed at me, I wasn’t sure how to handle it and keep my heart intact. Especially since I missed them, too. The hours had felt like days.
“God, I would love to take you to bed,” Preston murmured, burying his face in my neck. “The game wiped me out, though, and you deserve more than my exhausted mess.”
“That’s okay.” I inhaled, soaking in their freshly showered scent, as I tried to be okay with not doing anything.
But I wanted more. It was all I could think about while they were gone.
Was that so awful? But if they were worn out, I didn’t want to make them feel bad.
“I had a long day of writing and am a little worn out, also,” I said, hoping my disappointment was well-hidden.
“How about a movie instead?” Emmett’s darkened eyes gave away what he’d rather be doing.
My disappointment spread to my face when Preston yawned. I nodded, reaching for the remote so they couldn’t see me. “A movie sounds great.”
“Don’t lie, Molls,” Preston said, smirking.
I covered my face and groaned. “Am I being that pathetic?”
“Not pathetic,” he corrected.
“Needy?”
“I like that you’re needy,” he said, squeezing my hip. “It’s nice being needed.”
“I’m sure you have your pick of people to satisfy,” I said, my cheeks burning as his face fell.
The doorbell rang, and he got to his feet before I could fix what I’d said. “Dinner’s here. I’ll get it.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings,” I said, digging my toe into the rug.
Emmett put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “I think Preston has a lot to work through that has nothing to do with either of us.”
“How’d he play tonight?”
Emmett grimaced.
“That bad?”
“He had a shot lined up and choked.”
I groaned and leaned back, letting the couch support my head. “Has he told you why he’s in his head so bad?”
“Not a word.”
Preston came back with a nice, fake everything-is-fine smile tight across his mouth. “Ready to eat?”
“Any suggestions for movie night?” Emmett asked.
“Let the wheel decide,” Preston said, grabbing three TV trays.
I helped him unfold them as Emmett’s phone cheered with a selection.
“Pretty Woman,” he announced, reaching for the remote.
My arm jerked, and my breath caught in my throat just hearing the title.
My mom’s favorite movie.
One she watched repeatedly, dissecting it and giving me her unsolicited advice whenever I was unfortunate enough to walk in while it was on.
I hid my reaction as I opened my food container. It would be easy enough to focus on the tikka masala chicken instead of the movie. Hopefully Preston and Emmett would be so invested in their food and the movie they wouldn’t notice I wasn’t watching.
“Oh, this smells good.” Preston said, his chipper mood back from the prospect of eating. Maybe his blood sugar was a little low from the game.
He settled on one side of me and Emmett squeezed in on the other side. Emmett grunted an agreement and started the movie before opening his container of butter chicken.
I’d be okay. It was just a movie. I had both of them protecting me. Walls of a fortress they didn’t know I needed. It would be okay. I could do this.
I didn’t even need to look up to watch the movie. The entire opening scene flooded my mind as I focused on piling individual grains of rice on my fork.
My mom’s words haunted my thoughts, souring my appetite. She would watch the entire movie with stars in her eyes, then she’d laugh and tell me it was just about the most absurd thing anyone could ever come up with.
“No one’s going to save you, Molly girl.” She’d cough from laughing so hard, while I wondered if it would be her last breath. “That’s why they make movies like this. It lets us sad saps think there’s hope, even though there’s none.”
I couldn’t block her commentary out of my mind, and it only got worse as the movie played on. Edward and Vivian had an arrangement. But then he got to know her and fell in love.
The similarities between the movie and my real life smacked me—I mean, I wasn’t a sex worker and Preston and Emmett weren’t businessmen in need of a date. But we had an agreement. A farce that benefited me.
I wouldn’t have a happily ever after where they confessed their love and begged me to be with them. I’d finish my manuscript, and we’d go our separate ways.
My mom had made sure I knew something like that would never work.
Love wasn’t real.
It was only a movie.
My arms went limp, lifeless at my side, and suddenly Preston and Emmett were too close, their elbows hitting me as they ate.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” I slid the TV tray out and got to my feet, not lingering to hear what Preston was saying as I walked out of the room.
I passed the bathroom downstairs and jogged upstairs, hoping they’d think I wanted some privacy. I didn’t make it to the bathroom before my legs went numb.
My chest tightened, and I slumped against the hallway, letting my legs slide out beneath me as I dropped my head in my hands.
My panic attacks had stopped since moving in. I thought they were gone. Blowing out a frustrated exhale, I tried to take a breath, but my throat felt so constricted I could only get enough air to stay alive.
I tried to focus on five things I could see, but footsteps clomping up the stairs ruined my concentration.
“Molls,” Preston said, dropping to a squat next to me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a panic attack,” I wheezed, pushing him away.
But he didn’t budge.
Warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against a hard, firm chest. Hard and firm enough I might have even called it stable.
But stability was new to me. It was as elusive as love.
Nothing stuck around long enough for me to be comfortable.
Even Juliet got her own life and moved on.
Everyone was always moving, and I was just stuck in the same spot forever.
I didn’t want Preston’s pity. There was nothing he could do or say that would make any of this better. If I was going to get hurt no matter what, I at least wanted it to be on my terms.
“I got it,” I said, my chin digging into his biceps, my words sharp from the inability to take a full breath. “Go downstairs.”
“No.”
“No?” The shock of hearing such a determined no was nearly enough to yank me out of the panic attack.
“I’m not going anywhere, Molly,” he murmured against the back of my head.
With slow strokes, he massaged my arms. His chest rose and fell against my back, tugging me into his breathing pattern. I focused on him. The way his hands brought me back into my body. The way his breaths rhythmically steadied my own.
I stayed that way for a long time, matching his breathing until I could sense exactly when he would inhale and when his exhales would come. Life came back to my arms, and I didn’t feel like I was going to pass out.
“You didn’t leave,” I whispered.
“I won’t leave, Molly.” He let go and sat on the floor next to me. “I know Emmett’s movie nights are a little much and sometimes I try to get out of them, too, but this is only like our third one with you—”
I snorted, and he grabbed my hands. “What happened down there? Why’d you run?”
“If I tell you, you’ll realize how ridiculous I am.”
“Nah, I’ve known you almost your whole life. I already know.” He nudged me and I laughed, my snotty nose making the worst sound as I frantically wiped it with my sleeve.
“The movie brought back a lot of memories. My mom and I used to watch romcoms, and she’d tell me exactly how unrealistic they were.
Pretty Woman was one she put on a lot. There was one time she was watching it, and my dad came home.
It was during those six months they were trying to make it work when I was ten.
” I paused and Preston nodded. None of us could forget those six months.
“And he laughed at her, asking her if that’s what she wanted.
If she wanted some sissy man who cried and did things like bring her flowers.
My mom laughed and said she knew better than to ever expect anything like that.
It started out as a playful conversation and ended with my dad storming out of the house.
He slammed the door so hard the shelf that had a teacup I painted in kindergarten fell off and shattered. ”
“Oh, Molls. I’m so sorry,” Preston said, putting his arm around me. “I had no idea your mom filled your head with all that shit.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t something I really wanted to talk to you and Lucas about.
She didn’t hold anything back from me, so all those old movies are kind of tainted.
And I know Emmett thinks it’s a great way to teach me about romance, but—” I swept my hand in front of me.
“I’m too much of a lost cause. My mom kind of ruined an entire genre of movies for me. ”
“We’ll stop watching them.”
I wiped my face again, hating how much he pitied me. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
“Please tell us if we’re doing something that’s straight up as painful as pouring salt into an open cut.” I winced, and he smiled softly. “Exactly,” he continued. “It’s all pain. And we’re trying to help you realize love is real. We’re not looking to hurt you. And you’re not a lost cause.”
I laughed, quickly hiding it with a cough. Being close to them, having them comfort me when I fell apart, showing me this gentle side of relationships I had never experienced. It was all good. And it all hurt worse than anything I’d ever been through.
The stuff with my parents hurt, but it was just a part of life. Something I knew would end when I became an adult and could leave home. The pain of wanting Preston and Emmett while they weren’t mine—and would never be mine—wasn’t something I wanted to end.
“Thanks for letting me know about this, Molls,” Preston said, squeezing me against him.
“I opened up to you,” I said, wiping tears away with the back of my hand. “Now it’s your turn.”
We used to do this when we were younger. I think it was Lucas’s way of getting me to talk to him about what was bothering me, and it worked. Sometimes we’d let Preston join in and it would turn into a silly confessional of dumb, inconsequential things.
But we were older, and the revelations weren’t as innocent as stealing each other’s gum.
I needed to make sure he knew that. It would be so easy for him to admit something small and irrelevant, but I’d seen how his playing had gone downhill lately. It had been eating away at me. Was I part of the problem? Only one way to find out.
“Is work harder for you with me living here?”
He tilted his head, looking genuinely confused. “Why would that make work harder?”
“You guys are spending so much time helping me. The dates. The sex. The manuscript. I thought maybe it was too much. Too exhausting.”
“I love having you here, Molls. Everything we’ve done has been fun.” He twisted his mouth, and I dreaded the next words.
“But?” I asked, as impatient as him.
“No but. That was the full sentence.”
“Okay, if it’s not me, then what’s wrong?”
He glanced at the stairwell, his shoulders up to his ears as he looked ready to run.
“Talk, Preston,” I pushed.
“It’s Emmett,” he whispered.
“What about him?”
“It’s just—” He grabbed the back of his neck and groaned. “He—”
“You gotta start talking faster,” I said, leaning forward, coaxing him. “You’re killing me, Ledger.”
He groaned louder and wiped his hand down his face. “I’ve had feelings for him for a while.”
I knew it. My heart thumped—equal parts delight and dread.
“That’s not an enormous surprise—” Did he forget the three of us had hooked up? Their feelings for each other were pretty obvious.
“He was reading a book with two men on the cover and I’m not sure if he’s into it or accidentally picked it up or—”
“You could ask him.”
Preston shook his head, eyes wide, like my suggestion was outrageous. “I’m helplessly falling for him, and he doesn’t know. You think I’m killing you? Imagine living with the guy you’re in love with and him thinking you’re just friends.”
I didn’t have to imagine. I wanted to one-up him and ask him if he knew how painful that was while also finding out one of those guys was in love with the other one. And no mention of any feelings for me.
“Talk to me,” I urged, hiding another pain that would fester until I died.
He gushed about Emmett, and I listened to every story, big and small, that lit up his face. I would listen to anything and everything he had to say, even if every word felt like a knife straight to the heart.