Chapter Twenty-Five
Jamie
We’re all quiet for a while after. I pull out and climb off the bed, legs shaking, to take care of the condom.
Patch gently moves Em around so he can strip off the duvet, but it turns out Em only has the one duvet cover, so we leave the entire thing on the floor and Patch grabs a blanket out of Em’s wardrobe.
I should leave. Retreat to my room, at least, so I can take care of my already spiralling thoughts. But Em is sharply watching Patch’s and my every movement, and some of the haziness I saw earlier in Patch’s expression is already fading.
So I climb in on Em’s other side and try to ignore the warm little spark in my chest when he wraps an arm around me and pulls me in closer.
The room is dark. It’s still raining outside, and it’s warm in here, under the blanket, the three of us pressed together. I shuffle around and rest my head on Em’s shoulder. Patch puts an arm around him and when his fingers brush against my side, he moves closer until his hand rests over my ribs.
A lump rises in my throat. I bury my face in the side of Em’s neck. He runs his fingers up and down my spine.
“Tell me how you’re feeling,” he says. It’s not a sharp command, but it’s still firm. Patch presses his fingers against me a little harder.
“Good,” he says after a few silent seconds. “Really good.”
I hear them kiss. I still don’t dare look up. Why haven’t they told me to leave yet? I know plenty of couples who like to invite someone else in from time to time—the same person over and over again, even—but that’s not what this is.
They’re mates. I’ve heard enough from Vince and Dax over the last few months to understand what that means.
“Jamie?” Em asks. His voice quavers. Oh. Maybe this isn’t just about checking in with us. He needs this, too.
I lift my head and kiss him. I can’t use words. Not right now. Maybe I’m coming down from all of it, too.
Em blinks owlishly at me when I pull back. He’s still wearing his glasses. He has to take them off before he goes to sleep, right?
Patch sits up on his other side. I can hardly make him out now, the room darker than it was even a few minutes ago. The sun must have gone down.
“Jamie, I—”
“Kiss me.”
He hesitates, but only for a second, before he does as I ask. He moves in slowly, but the kiss is firm, intent. I don’t understand it. Dax, Drew, the other wolves… They all said they hardly see anyone else outside of their mates. That it’s always been that way.
But Patch—He kisses me like he wants me. Like he wants me as much as he wants Em.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe that’s just something I want to believe.
“I’m good,” I murmur against his mouth. “I promise. I’m good.”
I can’t see his expression, but I know he’ll be able to see mine.
Still, he says nothing. Just kisses me on the cheek and then lies back down next to Em again.
I lie down too, and Em lets out a little hum.
He has an arm around me still and must have one around Patch because he says, “Wait, I need to take my glasses off before I pass out.”
I snort. Surprised he’s not passed out already after all that. And we really should shower, but we can take turns in the morning. Or later tonight, fuck.
“Here,” I say. I reach out carefully, remove his glasses, and set them aside. “Have a nap. We’ll eat in a bit.”
“Hmm.” He sounds half asleep already, and Patch chuckles. “Okay. I’ll cook something.”
I expect to fall asleep too, but the minutes stretch out and I remain stubbornly awake. Patch’s hand is still on me, and by the way he’s breathing, I don’t think he’s asleep either.
I roll onto my side. “Is he asleep?” I murmur.
Patch is quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
“When are you going to tell him?”
“Jamie.”
“I mean it. I can’t—” Emotion chokes me all at once and Patch shifts a little closer, but that jostles the bed and we both freeze. When it’s clear Em isn’t going to wake up, I sigh. “You have to tell him.”
“I know. I will. I didn’t think we’d end up here, either.”
“Why did you say yes?”
“What?”
Tears sting my eyes. Fuck. I don’t want to feel like this. We just had fun. We all fit together like we were made to. But we weren’t. This isn’t like Drew and Adam and Sam. Patch knew his mate on sight, and it’s not me.
“Downstairs. W-when he asked. Why did you ask too?”
Patch is silent. I beg the tears not to fall. Fuck, why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
“Because I wanted you,” Patch says.
I can’t ask if he wants me now. I can’t. Because if he says no, I’ll have to leave, and I don’t want to upset Em, if nothing else.
“Jamie—”
“You have to tell him,” I whisper. “You saw what happened with Vince and Dax. If you put it off for too long, it’s just going to upset him.”
“I know. I will.”
“And I won’t… I’m not trying to get in your way. Nothing like that. I know this can’t happen again.”
He says nothing to that, and my heart sinks. I settle back down on the bed, though, because I can’t do anything else, and then turn my face into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t know when Patch stopped touching me, but when he reaches out again, fingers sliding over my skin, I flinch away. He lifts his hand—I fancy I can feel the press of air where he hovers over my back—and then withdraws it completely, the bed moving as he curls into Em’s side.
This can’t happen again.
I won’t let it.
When I wake a few hours later, both Em and Patch are gone from the bed. The hallway light is on, and I hear voices downstairs, the faint pulse of music. I breathe in deeply. Beyond the smell of sex, of us, I realise Em is making dinner, just like he said he would.
My chest tightens. For a moment, I can’t breathe at all. In the next, I’m on my feet, and I snatch up my clothes before I scurry into my room and close the door.
My phone is in my trouser pocket, so I fish it out and sit, still naked, on the edge of my bed.
I only pause when my thumb is hovering over Vince’s contact.
Patch will hear if I call, won’t he? And what’s the point of ringing Vince right now?
He can’t help with this. All he’ll want to do is rush over and fix things for me and that’s the last thing I want.
I toss my phone aside instead and crawl under my duvet, curling up into a ball.
I’m not foolish enough to believe they’re not thinking of me.
Em is too considerate for that. He’ll be making enough food for the three of us—probably enough that Nick can have some tomorrow, even—and Patch can likely hear my every movement, probably already knows that I’m awake and have left Em’s bedroom.
Fuck. I roll over and grope around for my phone, which is somewhere on the carpet. Once I’ve found it without leaving my duvet cave, I drag it into the darkness with me, wincing when I unlock it and the screen just about blinds me.
It’s cowardly of me, but I’ve never pretended not to be a coward. And I need time. Time to get my head back on straight and remember where I’m supposed to be. I have a new job to look forward to. I have friends outside of Patch and Em.
I send a quick text to let Em know that I’m not going to eat, that I just want to sleep and I’ll talk to him in the morning. His phone chirps below, the music dipping quiet.
They’re not close enough that I can hear any words, and I’m only human. But I hear the soft exchange of voices. I don’t want to know what they’re saying. I won’t strain to find out.
I turn my phone off instead and curl up a little tighter. Things will be better in the morning. They have to be better in the morning.