Chapter Fifty-Six – Fawn
“That’s why your pancakes are burned. You need oil,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“But oil is unhealthy.”
“Eating too much of anything is unhealthy.”
“I don’t know. I could eat you all day and never get fat.”
“Very funny,” I reply, squinting.
Shirtless in gray joggers, Dylan starts dancing around the kitchen with a spatula in his hand, swaying to this goofy old song blasting out of the radio. The pancake batter splatters over the edge of the pan as he tries to juggle it all.
“Right, I am adding the oil,” he declares while tipping the bottle.
I palm my forehead. “You need to oil the pan before pouring in the batter, Dylan.”
He stops and looks at the frying pan, then at me. “Hey,” he says with a shrug and a smile I’ve missed so much, “some oil is better than no oil?”
Laughing, I shake my head. God, I’ve missed this — him. The chaos. The confidence. The fact that he’s somehow still alive after cooking like this his whole life.
I can’t hold my tongue. “Now you let the oil render off, and then you can flip the pancake.”
He turns to me with a mischievous slanting of his eyes. “Listen, princess. If you want to cook, then do so.” He shoves the spatula across the island then places his hands on his hips.
Oh, gladly. Walking around the kitchen island, I bump him out of the way with my hip. “Move it, mister. I’ll show you how a pro does it.”
He lets out a dramatic gasp and takes a few steps back. I take over the stove, sizing up my pancake. As soon as it’s ready, with a flick of my wrist, I flip it.
“Fuck, I love a woman who can flip a pancake and boss me around,” Dylan says before landing a gentle slap on my ass and continuing to dance.
I know he’s doing everything he can to return to normal after losing his mother, carrying the loss silently while pretending the weight of it doesn’t kill him. If he does crash, I’ll be here this time, to hold him . . . together.
Suddenly, I hear a familiar deep voice. “She bosses you around because, other than me, someone has to.”
I raise my head to find Torin standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. “Good morning, baby,” he says with a grin plastered on his face, arms crossed. He’s looking hot as ever, in a tight black T-shirt and jeans.
Of course, I feel the usual flutter in my stomach. “Good morning.”
He walks across the kitchen in a few long steps, lowers his head, and plants a quick kiss on my mouth before going straight to the sink to wash his hands. He and Dylan share a look between them, a silent one with many undertones, then a quick nod.
Hmm, suspicious.
After drying his hands, Torin positions himself behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his hands guiding mine in flipping a pancake. “I’m glad you took over,” he says. “I’m not sure my stomach could have handled any more burnt food.”
I grin to myself. “Hey, Dylan, can you use a knife properly?”
“Princess, if I can handle a hockey stick, I think I can handle a knife.”
“Yet you can’t use a fucking stovetop,” Torin mutters under his breath.
I nudge him with my elbow. “Can you cut up some strawberries, please?” I ask, an innocent smile firmly in place.
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
He grabs the carton from the fridge and starts chopping, tongue poking out in concentration.
This is everything I ever wanted. No secrets. No running. No fear. Just the three of us, a messy kitchen, terrible cooking techniques, and heartfelt banter.
Torin helps me turn another pancake. “So, baby, how are you feeling this morning?”
And just like that, my stomach drops as I suddenly remember we are still living in a fantasy. This isn’t how we can be anywhere but within these four walls because of the coach’s rules.
Instantly, I tense, the spatula trembling slightly in my grip. Torin realizes the tension and takes a step back, his eyes clouding and his eyebrows drawing together. “Baby?”
I drop the spatula in the pan and start pacing. “Oh my God. I can’t . . . I can’t be seen with you two. The coach—” Torin laughs, and I stop dead. “Why are you laughing? This is serious.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes out his phone, presses the screen, and with a smirk that looks like that of the devil himself, he shows it to Dylan, whose jaw drops. “No way. Fucking hell, Torin—”
“What? What is it?” I demand. “Show me!”
“Princess,” Dylan starts, already laughing, “I don’t think you’re gonna—”
“Torin, we said no more secrets.” I cross my arms, trying to act tough. “Show me.”
He nonchalantly shrugs, showing no signs of worry, and turns the screen. “So,” he says calmly, “I don’t think that coach is going to be a problem for us anymore.”
Tilting my head, I stare at the screen, trying to make sense of what I’m looking at — then it hits me.
It’s the coach bent over the office desk, his balls and cock on display.
My jaw drops, and I’m speechless. With my eyes wide, I look up at Torin, and he just stands there grinning. “Told you I would fix it, baby.”
My mind starts racing, too many thoughts collide at once.
How did he even do that? Did Torin get hurt? What does this mean now? What about the rules?
Torin moves in closer and puts his hands firmly on my shoulders to ground me. “Fawn?”
I look up at him with an uneven breath. “What — What does it mean?” I stutter, the words pouring out of me faster than I can control.
“It means the video no longer exists,” he says calmly. “It’s gone. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. He can’t blackmail you. I made sure of it.”
The pressure in my chest dissipates, and my eyes start to water. “Thank you. Oh God, thank you,” I manage to say, with a broken voice. “I love you so much.”
He pulls me into a hug without any reservations, his forehead gently pressed against mine. “I love you, too, Fawn. And I hope that you know that I would do anything for you . . . For us.”
I know they’d do anything, and that’s what frightens me the most because I would do anything for them, too. I could never run away like I did before. Not when every piece of me is tied to them, pulling me back no matter how far I run.
A warmth spreads through my body, but then suddenly a thought slams into me. Pulling back, I lightly smack Torin’s arm. “Hang on! So there was no car emergency?!”
Torin freezes, then slowly turns his head toward Dylan. You lied to her? He mouths.
Dylan immediately holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey. There was an emergency. I didn’t mention a car, so technically—” He smiles. “I didn’t lie.”
“Very clever,” I retort, staring at them for a second, then shaking my head, laughing through the last of my tears.
Fuck, I can’t even be mad. Dylan’s right. Annoyingly, fucking right.
He didn’t lie to me. No, he told me the truth in a way that conveniently left out the part about the coach. I breathe deeply, my hand going over my face as the reality sets in.
I glance at them, both of them looking far too innocent for men who just outplayed me. Clever fuckers.
Torin squeezes his hand and glances at his knuckles.
“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” I ask as I examine him, and each part that could be bruised. I feel a pang of concern in my chest.
He lets out a constrained chuckle, “Oh, baby, no. I have thrown more potent punches on the ice. Believe me, it is nothing that he did not deserve.”
“What if he goes to the cops?” The fear slips out anyway. It’s a reflex now. Worry has lived in me for too long.
He raises an eyebrow, “He won’t, trust me. I made up some bullshit saying I knew people who would make him disappear.” After a brief pause, he holds my cheek, tracing the area just below my eye. “Anyway, he does not have any business being within our world, now. It is time for us to move on.”
Dylan moves in closer. I can feel the warmth of his body, and I focus my attention on both of them. My heart is about to burst. “I don’t deserve either of you,” I whisper.
“No, no, no,” Dylan says immediately, his voice firm but kind. “You’d better not think like that again. We have each other, and that’s all that matters. The past doesn’t get to touch us anymore. This moment, right here . . . this is the beginning of our lives.”
Torin tips my chin up. “He’s right. You need to listen.” His eyes search mine. “We can’t lose you to your own thoughts, not after everything. If you fall apart, fall into us. We’re in this together.”
I nod, trying to ease the emotional knot in my throat.
“Come on,” Dylan adds with a grin. “Let’s hug.”
They draw closer, their height towering over mine, surrounding me with their bodies. Their arms wrap around me, and for a fleeting moment, the world comes to a halt. “I love you . . . both of you.”
At the same time, they say, “I love you.”
My heart melts. I’ve never felt so safe and loved, but then, a smell ruins the moment. It hits my nose, making my nostrils flare as I take in a big whiff.
It’s smoke.
Instantly, I pull back, eyes widening. “Damnit! The pancakes!”
Torin huffs and moves toward the stovetop. “Fuck, guys,” He takes over with ease. “I’ll cook them, as you two clearly can’t.”
Dylan and I sit on stools at the island, shoulder to shoulder, as I instinctively twirl the necklace around my fingers.
“Delilah’s back soon, isn’t she?” he asks, leaning against the counter. “Are you gonna tell her what happened?”
I freeze, my brain immediately replaying Delilah in full protective-best-friend mode. Screaming. Threatening. Possibly committing a felony on my behalf.
“I’ve missed her like crazy.” I pause. “Uhh, I’ll tell her what she needs to know. She’s the kind of person who would hear the words blackmail and coach and then Google how to get rid of a dead body.”
Torin snorts. “She seems the type.”
“Delilah with a motive is basically a crime documentary waiting to happen,” I shrug, popping a strawberry into my mouth, “So, I might . . . leave some parts out.”
“Good call, baby. Ivywood does not need a murder investigation.”
There’s a silence for a moment; it’s not awkward, though. I can tell we’re all in deep thought. I’m thinking about our future and how terrifyingly beautiful it feels to want it.
“You know, princess, there’s one thing that’s been plaguing my mind,” Dylan says, breaking the silence. “The letter . . . Why did you scribble out the words I love you?”
“Truthfully—” I admit, my voice barely steady, “I didn’t want to give you any reason to come and find me.”
Dylan’s gaze hitches on mine and stays there. “We were always going to find you, no matter what,” he murmurs. “Forever isn’t something you can run away from.”
Torin exhales, a small smile touching his lips. “As for me, I don’t know how to love halfway. You’re ours . . . always.”
“And you’re mine. I wouldn’t want it any other way. You two are my yin and yang. I’ll always choose you, in this lifetime and every one that follows,” I say, realizing I never stood a chance. Loving them meant they belonged to me just as much as I belonged to them.
“Anyway, baby,” Torin says, plating up his perfect pancakes, “most importantly, when are you gonna finish your book?”
I tip my head back with a laugh. “Now that I have you two back in my life? Hopefully soon.”
“Atta girl.”
I used to think I was undeserving of a second chance at love, that I was too flawed, not good enough, but sitting in this kitchen, I finally understand the truth.
Two amazing men show me what true love is; they make me feel wanted and beautiful.
Nothing makes me happier than knowing I will wake up to them every day for the rest of my life.
I promised myself a year to heal — no men, just peace. Turns out, life had other plans. I swore I wouldn’t fall again, yet somehow, I fell twice.
“Guess what? I got to fuck her this morning,” Dylan teases with the cockiest smirk.
“What? Really. That’s unfair,” Torin replies. “Nope. I’m not having that. Bedroom now, missy.”
I hop off the stool with a smile. “What about the pancakes?”
“Fuck them.”
“Nah,” I giggle. “That’s what I have you two for.”
Before I can even protest, Torin hoists me up, the world tilting as I’m slung over his shoulder. We all head to the bedroom.