Chapter 47
Riley
“KEEP EM IN LINE, SUNSHINE.”
FOUR MONTHS LATER
“HAPPY & FREE: Dark Sins’ Creed St. James, Riley Graves, and their ‘Mystery Girl’ Tell All”
Collins reads the article aloud from her phone as she slides into her chair, carrying a giant bowl of mashed potatoes with one hand before setting it next to all the other food she had prepared for a big family dinner.
It’s our last night at home before starting our tour for the better part of three months.
Sure, there will be small breaks where we’ll come home periodically, but not enough time to settle back into any kind of routine.
It’s raining its ass off tonight, which is rare for California, so it forced us to move our family dinner indoors instead of our usual outdoor setup.
Creed snorts as he finishes setting out all the dishes around the table.
“Hilarious they still call you that.”
Collins just shakes her head, completely unbothered by the media’s title for her. Creed has a point, though. When we first came forward with our own story months ago, they knew who she was.
“I don’t mind it,” she says, still scrolling with a ghost of a smile on her lips, her septum ring glinting in the light. Stealing a roasted pepper from the end of the kebabs she made, she mutters, “Better than anything else they could’ve come up with. People can be nasty sometimes.”
She’s not wrong about that.
This particular article, however, focuses more heavily on the positivity that comes from being open about our polycule.
The world is more inclusive than it used to be, but fans of Dark Sins are nosy as fuck, so naturally, they were curious as to how this ‘mystery girl’ managed to land two boyfriends in the same band.
To say they were pleasantly surprised to find out that Creed and I are also together together is a massive understatement.
‘Boyfriends who are boyfriends’ is how they described it.
I’ve always been a private person, so going public with so many details about my personal life was a bit of an adjustment.
Luckily, it did get easier with the general crowd acceptance of our relationship after our first article was published.
The primary focus behind that particular interview was to focus on Guy and address our scars to get ahead of the narrative.
First, officials were tipped off anonymously to Guy’s probable whereabouts, where the contract killer hired by the McTavish brothers had painted a very colorful picture of his death.
For a while, Guy was the topic of every news station and podcast, because just as promised, more attention was drawn to the fact that it was the Cupid Killer who had done it, which in turn caused people to wonder why.
If Guy was such an upstanding citizen, why would he be targeted by a man who kills the worst of the worst in the world?
This caused an uproar and a deep dive into Guy’s private life. His wife was somehow miraculously found and questioned, which led to the discovery of the therapist that he’d killed. That’s when Collins and I took our cue to make our stand.
Our interview was constructed to look like an investigative reporter asking questions, but Ayla curated the whole thing. Premeditated, meticulously crafted questions allowed us to tell our story from start to finish the way we wanted to.
It was hard, having to recount the time spent in captivity, trapped under his roof, and the abuse we survived. Collins was incredible, though. She’s so fucking strong because she never wavered or drifted when the time came to talk about our time in captivity together.
While things between the three of us have never been better, our own personal battles are clearly nonlinear. We all have our struggles still, but therapy has given each of us mechanisms and tools to use to help one another as well as ourselves.
Creed watches with pride as I carry the heavy casserole dish across the kitchen and set it down onto the table with almost no tremors.
Wilder gave me his seal of approval last month to stop therapy so long as I continued with exercises specifically for my hands once a week.
A lot of my tremors now come from the neurological damage done when I had sepsis.
Knowing how to channel my thoughts and emotions helped to minimize that radically.
Tattooed arms snake around my middle from behind and tug me back until I’m flush with Creed’s hard chest. His leather and citrus scent washes over me, and I sigh into him, rubbing my hands over the top of his.
Receiving affection from Creed has never been an issue, but he’s doubled down from the moment I started initiating and eagerly reciprocating the contact.
It’s like a proverbial green light went off in his head, and he’s all hands on deck… literally.
“Look at this fucking feast, baby,” he hums, kissing my neck. I tilt my head to give him better access. “Our girl did so good, didn’t she?”
Collins looks up from the article she’s reading and blushes as she pushes to stand.
“This is a huge moment for us, for the band,” she explains, skirting around the table and shuffling up to where we stand in the corner of the room.
“I just want to have one last family meal here before it’s back to road chaos and hectic schedules. ”
Her arms stretch, attempting to band around both Creed and me. We adjust our hands so that we’ve both got a grip on her before she settles. I love how tiny she is and how well she fits with us.
And between us.
Thankfully, the doorbell rings before Collins notices the slow hardening of my dick because of one arrant thought, and places a kiss to the edge of my jaw before exiting the dining room. “I’ve got it!”
Soaking in the last moments of quiet, I turn in Creed’s arms and interlock my fingers around the back of his neck.
Tipping my chin up, I meet the light, brilliant blue of his eyes and just take him in.
He’s never stopped being the caretaker, but he’s been relaxed enough to know when it’s my or Collins’ turn to take care of him.
Leaning in, I press my lips to his.
“You ready?”
“For family dinner?”
“Smartass,” he teases, his fingers running deftly across the skin of my lower back beneath my shirt. “For the tour.”
I give him a quizzical look as I drag my thumb against the velvety, freshly buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. “A bit late to be asking me that, isn’t it?”
“Like I haven’t been asking you daily for the last month?”
I laugh, just a bark of humor before confessing to him, “I’m nervous, but I’m ready. I’ve still got my adaptive equipment, should I need it, but I—I feel good, Creed. I’m ready.”
He nods, thankfully dropping it at that.
So often lately, he’s asked me about getting back on the tour bus, but the memory of getting shot and dragged away like nothing more than a bloody rag doll has had my stomach roiling and in knots for weeks.
I’ve avoided the question every time he asked it.
I’m not ready to get back onto a tour bus, but I am ready to start playing for the world again.
I miss losing myself to the music on stage and feeling the crowd’s energy pumping me up and encouraging me to keep going.
“I’m more worried about Collins. She’s been zoning out more often, and I think it’s the stress of the upcoming tour.
” I confess, stepping away from Creed and peeking through the entryway to see Collins smiling and laughing with Bear and Ayla.
He’s been in a better mood lately, and it’s good to see my friend looking and feeling more like himself.
Creed steals a cherry tomato from the salad bowl and pops it into his mouth.
“I noticed,” he says, swallowing. “I hate that it’s stressing her out, but we’ll be there for her. And if she can’t get back on the bus—either one of you, for that matter—we’ll figure it out. Together.” He smiles, and I love the way his eyes shine with love and determination. “We always do.”
I can’t help but smile back because that’s my man. Optimistic as always and never willing to give up on us. More voices filter into the house, and I instantly recognize Blair’s iconic laughter, followed by Asher’s.
Knowing we’re running out of time before the room is filled with family, I rush Creed, grabbing him by the fabric of his shirt and backing him up until he comes flush with the wall behind him with a dull thud.
My lips crash against his, hot and heavy, while he lets me take what I want from him.
Kissing Creed and Collins is probably one of my favorite new hobbies because I’ve learned that I can just take them whenever I want.
An affection I’ll never hold back or hide from them again.
In true Creed fashion, it’s only a matter of moments before his hands are gripping my face as he spins us, reversing our positions so he can devour me.
I hadn’t intended to provoke him, but I know he won’t live this down later, and it’s got my dick fully hard just thinking about what he’ll do to us later to satiate his need.
Fletcher’s voice filters through into the dining room while Creed peppers my neck and collar bone with kisses, his own jeans rubbing against mine, the evidence of his arousal as obvious as mine.
A feminine throat clears behind us, and my eyes shoot open to find Collins leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.
Her smirk is a tell that she’s not nonplussed as she waits for Creed to pull away from my skin.
I, on the other hand, am beet-red because I could hear the number of people entering our home, and all I wanted was to have Creed’s hands and mouth on me before his attention was stolen away for a while.
It wouldn’t stop him from seeking me out throughout the evening, but I’ve learned it’s okay to be selfish sometimes, and stealing my partners’ affections is my favorite form of greed.