Chapter 17
Troy
I stumbled through our apartment door at a little after eight in the morning, my body weighed down with the bone-deep exhaustion that only comes after a twenty-four-hour shift with a late-night call.
The place was quiet—no Rhett blasting music while making breakfast, no Olive and Cheeto racing around like their tails were on fire.
My irritation at Rhett for skipping work to play bodyguard to Aimee flickered like a dying ember, stubborn but fading.
I couldn’t really blame him. If I hadn’t been on shift, I’d probably have done the same damn thing.
Still, the silence made my stomach twist with an uncomfortable question: where the hell were they?
My duffel bag hit the floor by the door, and I winced at the thud it made against the hardwood. We’d responded to a three-alarm fire at a warehouse downtown, and every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I bent to unlace my boots.
“Rhett?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to wake Aimee if she was still asleep. No answer.
As I padded down the hallway, a thought wormed its way into my brain: what if they’d fucked?
The image flashed unbidden—Rhett’s broad back, the flex of his muscles as he moved above Aimee, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, those blue eyes of hers locked on his face.
I expected jealousy to hit, waited for it like bracing for a punch, but instead found myself half-hard in my jeans.
Well, that was new.
Rhett’s bedroom door stopped me short. My hand hovered over the knob as I imagined what it would be like to find them together, naked, and in the middle of something I most definitely wanted to participate in.
But the old worries came flooding back, making me wonder if they’d really want me in there.
What if they didn’t want me to join them?
Fuck it. I turned the knob slowly, easing the door open just enough to peek inside.
The sight that greeted me sent my heart into overdrive.
Rhett and Aimee lay tangled together under his rumpled sheets, her head tucked against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
They were clothed, as far as I could tell—I could see the strap of Aimee’s tank top and the worn collar of one of Rhett’s sleep shirts—but the intimacy of the position hit me like a sucker punch.
I’d seen this movie before. Straight guy experiments with me, has his fun, then runs back to the safety of women when things get real.
That knife-twist of rejection was all too familiar, the memory tightening like a fist around my ribs.
But Rhett was different. He’d given me every assurance that he was just as into me as I was into him. Why couldn’t I just fucking trust that?
Rhett blinked awake, focusing on me with surprising clarity for someone who’d just woken up. A slow, sexy smile crossed his face as he lifted a hand and waved me closer, trying to extract himself from under Aimee, who was fast asleep.
My panic must have shown in whatever clusterfuck of emotions was playing across my face, because his left eyebrow arched up as he tiptoed over to give me a kiss on the cheek.
“Aimee’s agreed to stop freaking out.” His voice was barely above a breath. “That doesn’t make it your turn.”
The simple joke punctured my panic, releasing some of the pressure building behind my ribs.
I tried for a reassuring smile, but I could feel how weak it was. “I’m trying not to be paranoid. I just had a whole talk with myself about it.”
At the sound of our voices, Aimee stirred, her eyes drifting open. A sleepy smile spread across her face when she focused on me, and something in my chest loosened at the sight of it—warm and genuine, without a trace of guilt or awkwardness.
“Yay, you’re back.” Her voice was rough with sleep. “What time is it?”
“Just after eight.”
She groaned and flopped onto her back. “Way too early for me to be awake. Let me sleep.”
“Not all of us can sleep in ‘til ten, podcast princess.”
“I had a traumatic week.” Aimee stuck her tongue out at me, then grabbed the pillow from behind her head and launched it at me with surprising accuracy. It hit me square in the chest, and I caught it on reflex, laughing despite my exhaustion.
Leaning down, I kissed her forehead. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been snarky.”
“You’re forgiven. Now go fuck Rhett in the other room or something.” She burrowed back into the blankets. “I’m going back to sleep until at least nine.”
Rhett snorted, extracting himself from the tangle of blankets. “She really does have a lot of good ideas.” He winked, and heat rushed through me. “Come on, T. Let her sleep.”
I tossed the pillow back onto the bed and followed Rhett out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind us. The moment we were in the living room, he turned to face me, his expression shifting from playful to serious.
“We didn’t have sex.” He met my eyes. “In case that’s what you were worried about.”
My cheeks heated. “I wasn’t—”
“Bullshit.” Rhett crossed his arms over his chest, and I couldn’t help but notice how the movement made his biceps flex. “I saw your face when you came in. You looked like you were bracing for impact.”
The couch caught me as I sank down, aware of how tired I was. “Maybe a little. It’s just... I’ve been here before, Rhett. I swear, I’m trying not to be paranoid.”
“I just don’t understand how you still think I’d cut you out? That I’d choose her over you?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time this happened.”
“Really?” Rhett’s voice took on a teasing lilt as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “So how many other times have you started fucking your best friend’s sister with your other best friend? Damn, T, you’ve been holding out on me.”
A laugh escaped me, the sound muffled against his shoulder as he pulled me into a hug. “Fuck off. It’s just straight guys, you know? You never know when they’ll decide they’re not into dick anymore.”
Rhett pulled back, framing my face with his hands, forcing me to look at him. The playfulness had vanished, replaced by something fierce and determined that made my breath catch.
“I’m not them,” he said, each word deliberate and firm. “And I’m definitely not straight, at least not where you’re concerned. I don’t know what those assholes did to you, but I’m not going to wake up one day and decide this was just a phase. What we have is real. It’s not going away.”
I wanted to believe him—fuck, I needed to believe him—but doubt was a persistent little bastard. “You can’t know that for sure.”
“Can too. And I know how to prove it.” Rhett snatched his phone off the kitchen counter, his jaw set in a way I’d only ever seen when he was about to do something either incredibly brave or profoundly stupid.
“Who are you calling?” Panic flared through me.
He held up a finger, shushing me as the call connected. “Hey, Chief Ramirez? It’s Donovan. I need to find out what to do to declare a relationship with HR.” He went quiet for a moment. “Yeah, it would affect work assignments. Okay. Got it, we’ll leave now.”
He hung up and pocketed the phone before looking up at me with a challenge in his eyes.
“What the fuck was that?” I demanded, my voice rising enough that Aimee stirred in her sleep.
“That,” Rhett said, his voice low but intense, “was me committing. Officially. On the record. Where it impacts my job and my life in very real ways.” He reached for my hand, threading our fingers together.
“I’m not going anywhere, Troy. Not away from you, not back into the closet, not deciding this is just a phase.
I’m all in. So all-in that it involves HR paperwork. ”
The lump in my throat made it hard to speak.
No one had ever done anything like this for me before—put their career on the line to prove their feelings were real.
I stared at our joined hands, at the way Rhett’s thumb traced soothing circles against my skin, and felt something fragile and precious crack open in my chest.
“You’re serious.”
“Dead serious. I’m going to get dressed and tell Aimee we’re leaving, and then we’re going. No arguments.”
“Damn, Rhett, I kind of like you bossy,” I said.
He stepped closer, narrowing his eyes as he sized me up. “Only out of the bedroom. In our bed, I’m your filthy little submissive slut and you better not treat me any different.”
An unexpected laugh burst out of me, the sound a little broken around the edges, and I leaned in to kiss him. He met me halfway, and I pinned him to the wall, shoving his hands above his head as I nipped his bottom lip, then nibbled my way down his neck.
“Shit. Why’ve you gotta activate my slut mode when we have to go?” he whined, then huffed out a breath.
I laughed and backed off. “Clean up before we leave, and maybe you’ll get a reward after we get back.”
“And by reward, I can only assume you mean a thorough dicking?” With every teasing word, the tension eased. He wanted me. I needed to stop getting in my head about it.
“Shower and make sure everything is clean.”
“Everything?” If it was possible to perk up even more, Rhett did.
Shaking my head, I shoved him into the bathroom, then wrote a quick note for Aimee, smiling as I realized I was following the format of our previous notes.
When Rhett came out, he jumped on the note, adding his own little cartoon, in this case with the two buff firefighters holding hands in front of a desk with a grumpy-looking fire chief on the other side.
“No Aimee?” I asked.
He grinned and added a cartoon Aimee holding cartoon Troy’s hand.
“Perfect.”
“Come on, let’s get there before Chief Ramirez leaves,” he said, cheeks going pink.
Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in front of the Battalion Chief.
His desk was surrounded by framed department photos and service awards.
Beside me, Rhett’s knee bounced with nervous energy, his usual easy confidence nowhere to be found.
I kept my hands clasped in my lap, fighting the urge to reach for him.