4. Passive Insight
Chapter four
Passive Insight
Dex
People make this really fucking stupid assumption that because I don’t take myself seriously, I don’t take anything seriously.
Which—rude.
And wrong.
I joke about shit because sometimes shit is heavy, and if I can make Micah roll his eyes at me, it weighs a little less.
I thought Micah and Ronan knew that about me.
Maybe they do.
Maybe they just don’t realize it means I recognize the same bullshit when Cami does it.
Hearing what happened at Ronan’s parents’ house made something mean crawl up my spine.
Not jealous. Not possessive.
Just this sudden, vicious certainty that I wanted to make sure that asshole never got close enough to make her feel like that again.
Also, like me, I knew she’d pretend like she was fine.
Make a joke about it.
Try not to inconvenience the rest of us.
Because Cami and I have something else in common.
She’ll bleed out emotionally while insisting she’s fine.
She’ll make a joke. Change the subject. Ask you if you’re okay.
Ask me how I know.
Then Micah told me where Cami was and what Griffin had told him…
Don’t get me wrong, I’m absofuckinglutely elated that Ronan finally gave in to everything he has been fighting, but…
Under literally any other circumstances, I’d be doing a victory lap around the kitchen because fucking finally.
But tonight?
Tonight it feels a little too much like two people who are both falling apart deciding orgasms might count as emotional first aid.
Honestly? It’s a lot like when she took Griffin to bed for the first time. It was an emotional, physical, and sexual solution to a problem that needed more than that.
It’s a quick fix.
A band-aid on a bullet wound.
Sex can make you forget the hole for a minute.
Doesn’t mean you’re not still bleeding.
The second I made her look at me, I knew.
Because I’ve worn that exact fucking smile.
I’m fine. Please believe me so I can believe me too.
She saw that I recognized it.
And that was that.
So… now we’re here.
Cami crying on my shoulder.
Micah and Ronan both a little unsure of what to do with themselves.
I catch Ronan’s eyes over her shoulder and wink.
His brows pull together.
Jesus Christ. I’m not flirting with you, Dungeon Daddy. I’m telling you I’ve got her.
Apparently our nonverbal communication still needs work.
As her sobs start to dissipate, Micah clears his throat.
“Princess?” he begins quietly. “I have your orange juice.”
She looks at him as she pulls back from my shoulder, wiping her eyes.
Sniffling, she wipes her nose and then laughs.
“Here,” Ronan offers quickly as he hands her a paper towel.
“Thank you,” she replies softly.
She blows her nose with a sound that should probably require a permit and immediately starts laughing again.
“Sorry.” Offering a soft smile, she looks at each of us.
Finally, she takes the orange juice from Micah and sips at it.
Micah checks her sugar, then leaves his phone unlocked on the counter with the graph up.
No announcement. No discussion.
Just here, we’re all watching her now.
When Cami offers a soft, almost apologetic look to Ronan, he cups the nape of her neck and pulls her closer before kissing her temple.
Micah and I both manage—barely—not to react.
Ronan.
Voluntarily touching someone.
Affectionately.
In front of witnesses.
It’s like seeing Bigfoot use Apple Pay.
You know, intellectually, that anything is possible, but you’re still not prepared when it happens in front of you.
“A faker can’t fool another faker,” I tease her before I brush my knuckles to her chin.
Her smile fades. She stares down into her orange juice. “I wasn’t really faking. It was more that I was ignoring.”
“Ignoring won’t make it go away,” Micah says gently.
“I know,” she admits.
We’re all quiet for a few moments, and then Ronan asks, “Do you need real food, sweetheart?”
“I probably should,” she confesses with another small smile.
“We still have some of that primavera,” Micah suggests.
She agrees, and Micah gets to work on that.
We talk quietly for a few minutes. Cami gives me the abbreviated version of what happened. I already know most of it, but hearing her say it is worse.
My jaw starts hurting somewhere around the part where Ben grabbed her.
Micah catches my eye once.
The look he gives me says don’t.
I don’t know if he means don’t interrupt, don't make this about me being upset, or don’t announce the creative ways I’d like to rearrange Ben’s face.
Probably all three.
Maybe it was the smell of food. Maybe Griffin has some kind of husband bat signal whenever Cami cries. But Griffin finds his way to the kitchen.
He stops walking for a second as he takes us all in.
Ronan and Griffin stare at each other for several seconds, apparently conducting an entire fucking conversation through microscopic eyebrow movements.
Griffin finally nods once at Ronan, and when he walks by to check on Cami, he clasps Ronan’s shoulder—just enough to let him know they’re okay.
The weirdest part of this whole situation is that no one speaks—we just… adjust.
Griffin comes toward her, and I just move.
Like all five of us somehow know the formation changed.
Griffin cups her cheek.
She lasts approximately three seconds under Griffin’s eyes.
Then she’s crying again.
Griffin pulls her closer and kisses her forehead.
She buries her head in his chest and cries more.
It’s different this time.
With me, it felt like I cracked the door she’d been holding shut.
With Griffin, she just stops holding it altogether.
Micah’s hand finds my back, brushing just enough to let me know he’s there.
And somehow Ronan is now standing there looking like the fifth wheel.
“Well, there’s nothing like pasta at two in the morning to bring a polycule together,” I finally say, breaking the awkward silence.
Cami snorts a small, sad laugh.
Griffin smiles into Cami’s hair. Ronan’s mouth twitches.
“You’re impossible,” Micah whispers to me, but then kisses my shoulder while he’s stirring pasta.
Griffin cups Cami’s face again for a moment before stepping aside as Ronan hands her a box of tissues he grabbed from the other room.
“It’s Dex’s fault I’m crying,” she finally says with a smile.
Pressing a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Just because I bring out the feelings does not mean I caused them, dollface.”
“Still your fault,” she counters.
Cami looks at Ronan and lifts her hand—but stops before touching him.
He gives her the smallest nod.
Annnd, I’m filing that away for later.
Then she hugs him, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Again… Bigfoot.
Micah plates pasta for her, but hands it to Griffin.
Somehow we’ve developed an entire unspoken Cami-care hierarchy in the last ten minutes—probably longer; it’s just obvious now—and I’m not sure whether that’s healthy communication or the beginning of a Cami-centered cult.
Griffin helps Cami off the counter and leads her to the table.
The rest of us all look at each other.
Finally, Micah says, “I could use some nicotine.”
“I think me too,” I admit, and we both look at Ronan.
He nods.
Moments later we’re all smoking on the back porch.
It’s December in Colorado.
So it’s fucking freezing.
But we sit there anyway.
“You okay?” Micah eventually asks Ronan.
“I am,” he answers with a small laugh.
“Soooo… did she finally get you to give up, or did she have to tie you down?” I ask.
“Oh, I was definitely the one doing the tying,” he teases back, then, more seriously, “the way she approached me, I couldn’t say no.”
“Well, welcome to the Cami club.”
“Dex,” Micah scolds with a laugh.
“Well, what else do you want to call it?”
“Maybe, welcome to the polycule,” Ronan offers.
“Oh, fuck off. You’ve been in the polycule for months. Your dick doesn’t need to file membership paperwork.”
Micah huffs an uncontrolled laugh.
Ronan lets loose a slow breath.
It might be annoyance.
It might be amusement.
“Plus, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen her naked,” I add.
After a soft scoff, Ronan replies, “Also true. Although it was the first time she saw me naked.”
And now I’m thinking about Ronan naked… and now I’m thinking about Ronan and Cami naked together… and now I’m thinking about Cami tied up while Ronan does things to her… and now I’m thinking about me tied up while Ronan does things to me.
Well.
That escalated predictably.
“So, we ready to jump right in to full group chaos yet?” I ask. “Because I am fucking ready.”
Micah and Ronan both laugh softly.
But when Ronan doesn’t answer, Micah admits, “I’m ready too.”
Ronan takes a long drag on his cigar and blows out the smoke. “Soon, boys. We need to have some talks first, but soon.”
We’re quiet for a moment before he adds, “I think maybe Griffin is anxious for that, too. He wants to start the group chaos with just Cami and me.”
“Okay, so serious question,” I announce, “and I know it’s me, but it is a serious question.”
I pause, and when they don’t respond, I continue, “Am I like… not supposed to look at Griffin? Because I know he’s straight. Obviously. Very, aggressively heterosexual. But the man is hot. Straight doesn’t make my eyeballs stop working?”
I’m a little surprised when they don’t laugh.
They actually contemplate it as a serious question.
“I think as long as you don’t ogle….” Micah begins and then doesn’t quite finish the thought.
“Agreed,” Ronan says. “But it probably is something we’ll need to discuss with him.”
“I’m sure that man gets ogled every day at work,” I say. “Man in uniform, just walking around all hot and stuff, while he saves lives.”
“Is it just the naked part that’s got you spinning in circles?” Micah asks with a smile.
“I mean… yeah.”
They both laugh.
“Unless he has a tiny penis, then maybe it won’t be so impressive,” I tease.
“Jesus, Dex,” Micah says, while Ronan chuckles softly.
“I’m sure his penis is just fine,” Ronan contends.
“Guess we’ll find out soon.”
We’re quiet for another few breaths before I look at Ronan. “Are you okay, man? Seriously?”
He loudly inhales through his nose and nods.
“I am. I think I’d be more upset if Cami was less okay or my family had sided with my brother.
But, while I know she needs to process all of it, she’ll be okay.
” There’s a short pause before he adds, “She is worried it is something that will happen more often. There’s also a concern that it may happen to us, too. ”
“Oh, so now we’re worried about incest, too?”
Ronan lets out an amused scoff. “No.” He shakes his head. “But it may be something we have to answer for sometimes—people thinking that polyamory equals promiscuity. I’m sure it’s something that… vanilla people confuse frequently.”
“Yeah, welcome to the club,” I mutter. “People have been assuming I’ll fuck anything with a pulse since I started openly seeing men.”
Micah looks at me.
“What?” I shrug. “Pan means greedy. Flirty means easy. I make sex jokes, so obviously I can’t commit to anyone. Same bullshit, different packaging.”
We’re quiet for a few heartbeats.
“People confuse being open about sex with not taking relationships seriously,” Micah adds.
“Exactly,” I say a little dramatically. “I can be a slut and still be in love. Two things can be true at the same time.”
Micah smiles, but then adds, “I understand the concern. I think it’s legitimate to discuss and prepare for.”
“I just hate that different automatically means less real to some people,” I say finally.
No one laughs at that.
Good.
Because it’s not a joke.
“A lot of people have been fighting for that for a long time,” Micah eventually says quietly. “I think it’s better than it used to be, but we still have a long way to go.”
We sit in relative silence before cigarettes and cigars are extinguished, and we head inside.