Chapter Twenty #2
He sees me. Although I could make promises to these two men, my work would always be critical to my identity, and the thought of losing everything was devastating to me.
As much as I just wanted to focus on the moment, having the hearing hanging over me like the sword of Damocles was a little much sometimes.
When the worry broke through. When I faced, in stark, brutal honesty, what was likely to happen to me.
“I’m not one to tell you what to do.” He grinned ruefully.
“I caught the worst cold ever during the middle of shooting a critical sequence. I wore a mask, took every drug available, stayed ten feet away from everyone, and didn’t miss a moment.
” He chuckled. “Valentino was not impressed. He pointed out we could have rescheduled.”
“So why didn’t you let them?” Tyson snagged the pillow from my unresisting hand. He grabbed the other two and put all three on the bed. We’d commandeered one from the spare room earlier in the day.
Oh, he’d put my orthopedic pillow on my side of the bed. Absurdly touched, I blinked several times.
Donovan brushed the backs of his knuckles down my arm. “You do what you need to in order to prepare. Tyson and I promise you won’t miss anything. I think I could sleep for a month—given how tired I am.”
Tyson pressed himself against Donovan’s back, laying his head against the man’s shoulder blades and wrapping his arms around Donovan’s narrow waist. “I’ll make sure you get plenty of rest and fluids.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” Donovan placed his hands over Tyson’s and held them tight.
“I’m okay if you guys do stuff.” I held Donovan’s gaze. “I honestly am not the jealous type. If you guys want to…you know…that’s totally fine.”
Donovan cocked his head. “And you can share afterward—but only if you’re comfortable. I’m not going to interrogate you. I’m not jealous either. I trust you.”
Was that one of his rules? I sought to recall what we’d discussed in the cabin on Friday night.
Just four days ago—yet so fricking much had happened since.
I trusted him as well. I didn’t need to know the specifics of what he did with Tyson.
That wasn’t just maturity on my part—it came from a deep level of trust that I was only just coming to comprehend.
“Trusting comes easily for me—with you two.” And frankly, with our incredibly busy schedules, being…
wherever…at the same time would be difficult.
Hands off might seem good in theory, but I could attest how challenging that might be—Tyson and I’d fought the constant force of attraction while we’d waited for our third’s return.
Donovan raised one hand to snag the back of my neck. He yanked me toward him, and without hesitation, I followed his command.
We kissed brutally. Hot, demanding, and necessary.
As I pressed myself against him, Tyson brushed his hand against my hip.
Jesus, I want them again.
And not just in the physical way—although I did as well. But I wanted to know them. To delve into their souls—but not as their therapist. As their friend. As their confidant.
As their lover.
Donovan shivered. “Okay, it’s a little chilly.”
Reluctantly, I withdrew. Immediately, I missed the solid warmth of Donovan’s chest. “I’ll, uh, go and get the blankets.”
“I’ll join you.” Donovan snagged my hand. “Tyson’s going to get under the sheet and start warming our bed.”
Our bed. I wanted that to be a forever kind of thing, and holy cow, that thought was way too soon in our relationship.
I didn’t even know Tyson’s middle name. Or how Donovan preferred his eggs.
Tyson and I had stopped off at the grocery store on our way back from the sea wall and bought enough food to feed a proverbial army.
We didn’t have to leave this place at all if we didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to.
Well, Donovan had to go to work, unfortunately, but we would wait for him. We’d always wait for him.
After surveying the contents of the linen closet, I handed Donovan the wool and fleece blankets, grabbing the cotton myself. Cold had begun to seep into my bones, and I hoped Tyson was generating a little heat.
Donovan headed back toward the bedroom. “I think we should try the wool one. This condo’s damn cold.”
“I can turn up the heat. I mean, I don’t know how you—”
“I’m a good Canadian lad.” Donovan winked. “I’ve played hockey in minus ten.”
“Celsius, I presume.” I smiled guilelessly.
Donovan paused for a moment, obviously doing the calculations. “Fuck yes. Oh God, I can’t contemplate anything colder.”
“Good thing you’ve never lived in the Yukon.”
“Right next to Alaska? Hell fucking no.” He nudged me into my bedroom. “I like being the warmest spot in Canada right now. Even if it is fucking cold with the threat of snow.”
Dark had long come, and I hadn’t checked the weather forecast in a couple of days. I chuckled. “You didn’t like LA?” I placed my blanket on the chair and snagged the fleece one to add to the pile.
Then we laid the wool one over a fetal-position curled Tyson and tucked in the sides and bottom.
“You know our physical exertions are going to dislodge that.” Donovan crawled into my side and scooted to the middle. He lay on his back.
Tyson had turned off the light on his nightstand, so I did the same with mine and crawled into the bed beside Donovan. “Damn.”
“What?” His voice carried amusement at my swear.
“I didn’t pull the blackout blinds.” Even as my vision adjusted, the light pollution from the city filtered in. All the books I’d read on proper sleep etiquette extolled the virtue of blackout blinds and how any light could interfere with circadian rhythms.
Donovan chuckled. “You’re going to be so exhausted you won’t even notice. I have them at home but don’t use them often.”
“Why not?” Tyson moved under the sheets, causing them to shift. “Mine are always closed.”
“Because the light keeps me grounded—reminds me there are other people out there in the world.”
So much to unpack in one simple statement.
But that discussion could wait.
I tucked myself in against Donovan and sighed.
“This is going to be awkward.” Donovan’s amused chuckle had me grinning.
“In what way?”
“I sleep on my side.”
“Oh.” Tyson snickered. “Easily solved. You roll over to face Hamish. I spoon you. You either spoon him or you lie facing each other and, you know, like, hold hands or something.”
“Or I could do the spooning.” We were all about the same height, so that shouldn’t matter.
“I like being the big spoon.” Tyson coaxed Donovan to roll over.
The big man complied.
I shifted so we faced each other. In the dark, I barely saw his irises. “Are you okay with this?”
He grasped my hands. “I’m totally okay with this.”
Tyson wrapped an arm around Donovan and tucked his hand against the man’s chest.
For a moment, I laid my hand over his.
He sighed.
Donovan’s eyes drooped.
Before I could ask if we were going to talk, his eyes shut. His breathing evened out.
Tyson let out another sigh, and soon his breathing evened out as well.
I lay there, in my bed, and thoughts swirled.
I’m not alone.
And if I had my way, I’d never be alone again.
If I had to find a new purpose in life, wasn’t I staring at it? I could find a less meaningful job if it meant being with my men.
On that thought, eventually, sleep claimed me.