Chapter 17
Joelle
Wade leaves soon after his confession, the rumble of his truck fading down the long dirt road until it melts into the horizon. The silence he leaves behind grows louder by the hour.
At first, I miss the comfort of knowing he’s close: his big hands, and the way he folds me against his chest like he can quiet my whole body with nothing but warmth and strength. But as the afternoon stretches on, my body reminds me of every choice I’ve made these last few days.
By six, I’m aching.
By seven, I’m desperate enough to shove folded tissue into my bra in a pathetic attempt to catch the slow leak that keeps blooming through the cotton.
Wade’s idea, this whole shared family dream he talked about, has been sitting in the middle of my mind all day like a heavy stone as I’ve tried to make sense of how two men could both want that… could want me.
Not the abstract idea of sharing a woman, or the fantasy or the kink of it, but me with all my baggage, my baby, and my still-hurting heart.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understand them.
And even though I keep telling myself it’s wrong, I can’t help circling back anyway, considering the reality of a life like that.
Would they want to alternate sharing my bed, or have me together?
The idea turns my face molten. Before Wade, I could barely remember what sex was like, and now, I’m trying to find the imagination for a lifestyle most people would never consider.
I flush, remembering how I used to watch Wade and Caleb working, their work-hardened bodies slick with sweat, wondering what it’d feel like to touch them. My teenage self was torn up inside at being aroused by them both. Even years later, I still feel the same conflict.
I step out onto the porch to breathe, escape my own swirling thoughts, and I sink into the corner of the swing with a soft groan.
The boards are warm from the day’s sun. The cicadas hum in the fields in rhythmic rasps that lull some calm into me.
The air smells like hay and a hint of the cinnamon bread cooling inside, homely in a way that settles into my bones.
My breasts throb, a heavy tug over my ribs. I press my palms gently against them, trying to ease the pressure.
Eli and Rick have already eaten and left.
Caleb wanted to shower first, and now his footsteps sound against the kitchen floor.
He steps out onto the porch with his plate of dinner, his hair curling damply over his collar, and the scent he carries hitting me in a rush: soap, sun, and something warm and male that’s just a little different to his twin.
Caleb settles beside me without a word, the swing creaking under his weight.
“This smells good,” he says, forking a piece of chicken.
I nod, content that I’m at least doing my job correctly, and he eats in silence for a few minutes.
I keep shifting, trying not to wince when another pulse of fullness hits.
When I rub the top of my breast, discreetly, I hope, Caleb’s eyes flick down, then back up, gray and gentle with concern threaded through them.
“You hurting?” he asks quietly.
I swallow. “It’s been… a while.”
He nods, and I wonder how open Wade has been about my problem and his solution.
Caleb’s gaze drifts back to my swollen breasts, but he’s polite enough not to comment.
Instead, he eats another bite, his knee brushing mine every so often, and it feels like torture, because I can’t stop thinking about the conversation Wade and I had.
I’m overwhelmed by the idea of being shared by two rugged cowboys, and the worst part is, I don’t even know if Caleb’s in on any of it.
It would be just like Wade to make bold promises without bothering to make sure the rest of us are playing the same game.
Maybe he’s already moved the pieces in his mind, drawn out the whole map.
But if Caleb doesn’t know, or worse, knows and thinks his brother’s crazy, then what the hell am I even doing here?
I can’t build a future on one man’s fantasy, not if the other isn’t dreaming it with us.
The truth is, I’ve spent my whole life dodging hard conversations. It’s how I ended up raising a baby on my own in the first place because I didn’t chase after the man who left me aching and alone at the county fair. I told myself there was no point. That if he’d wanted to stay, he would have.
But avoiding things hasn’t exactly worked out in my favor.
If I’m going to entertain the wild thing Wade’s put on the table, I need to know Caleb’s not some shadow in the corner of the dream.
I need to hear it from him.
And finally, I can’t hold it in anymore.
“Wade talked to me,” I blurt, “about the… arrangement. About the idea of… sharing…” My voice trails off, and I stare at my hands. “Do you know about that?”
He sets his fork down.
“Yes,” he says calmly. “Wade and I talked.”
I let out a shuddery breath through pursed lips. It’s a relief they did. I should have known the twins would operate like a unit.
My stomach twists. “Caleb… I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can both want to share the same woman. How isn’t it strange or… or wrong? How do I fit into it?”
He turns toward me, one arm draped along the back of the swing. “It’s only wrong if it feels wrong. Does it feel wrong to you?”
I blink at him, my throat thick. “I don’t know.
I don’t know anything right now. I came here for a job in a place I was familiar with.
Maybe some space to breathe. And now it feels like…
” My voice cracks. “Like I’m caught up between doing what’s right and.
..” I don’t even know how to admit the second part of my sentence was, what feels good.
He exhales softly. “You’re overwhelmed,” he says. “And you’re hurting. And you’re trying to make sense of somethin’ new and big.” He shifts closer, his knee pressing against mine. “But Jo… I want you, too.”
My heart stutters. “Why?”
He huffs a faint, sad laugh. “Same reason Wade does. You walk into a room and everything feels warmer. You’ve had a hard life, and yet you’re still gentle.
You’re strong in ways you don’t even recognize.
You’re so beautiful it makes my heart hurt.
” His voice drops. “And I want to take care of you. Both of us do. We can give you a home. A life. A place for your son. A family.”
The tears hit before I can stop them, hot and sudden, and Caleb is there, placing his plate on the floor and reaching for me. “Jo. Come here, sweetheart.”
I don’t even think before I fold into his arms, and when he cups the back of my head, thumb stroking gently as he kisses my temple, my cheek, the corner of my jaw, I begin to tremble. Not because it feels wrong, but because it feels right.
Different from Wade, yes, but comfortable and familiar.
And then Caleb freezes.
I pull back slightly, confused until I notice a large damp patch spreading across the front of his clean shirt.
“Oh God—Caleb, I’m so sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”
I swallow hard. “It’s been hours, and Wade’s not—”
“I can help,” he interrupts, his eagerness apparent. “If you want me to.”
My breath catches. Shock. Relief. Shame. Desire. They all barrel through me.
“You don’t have to,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. “But I want to, if you want me to.”
His eyes are warm, gentle, and hungry in a softer way than his twin’s. Sparkling rather than devouring. He’s always been so kind to me. So willing to make me feel better.
I nod, and my whole body trembles with permission, my milk letting down immediately.
He stands and holds out a hand. “Let’s get you comfortable,” he says.
I slip my fingers into his, letting him lead me inside to the soft lamplight of the family room.
I settle into his lap on the couch, straddling him like I did with Wade, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
His hands are big and firm on my hips, guiding me slowly closer. His breath brushes my cheek.
“Joelle.”
My name is a rasp of desire, catching against the tightness of his throat. I swallow thickly, anticipation a throb that heats my breasts and lower to all the places his brother has discovered, but he hasn’t.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Caleb whispers.
“I won’t,” I breathe.
His lips brush my collarbone first, feather-light, tracing heat down my chest. He helps me lift my shirt and undo my bra, and then I’m bare to him, flushed and full and ready for his mouth.
He looks up at me, his full lips parted, eyes wide, and hands desperate at my hips.
“Joelle. You’re so beautiful,” he says, and then his mouth closes around me, warm and reverent.
My head falls back with a soft cry, the relief instant, sweet and overwhelming, pulling tears from my eyes as tension releases from deep inside.
His hands steady me, one at my hip, one splayed over my back, holding me against him, his mouth coaxing warmth from me with slow, deep suction that curls my toes.
I’m trembling, my fingers tangled in his damp hair, when the front door opens.
Boots on the floor. Thud. Thud. Thud.
I should pull away, but I can’t. My hips jerk as arousal surges. Caleb is lost, his eyes closed, his face serene. Behind us, there’s a sharp inhale.
“Caleb?”
Wade’s voice sounds rough and confused.
Caleb lifts his mouth from my breast, wiping the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. His arms stay around me, holding me firmly in his lap.
I turn, heart hammering, to see Wade standing in the doorway, eyes wide, jaw set, heat radiating from him like a storm rolling in.
And all three of us go utterly still.
My heart thunders in my chest, fear crashing over me. Tears spring to my eyes. Caleb says something soothing, but I’m too paralyzed to make out the words. Have I done something so wrong, letting Caleb perform Wade’s sacred task, that they might ask me to leave?
Wade told me he wanted to share me, but did he mean this or something different? I try to cover myself, but Caleb stops me.
Then Wade slumps into a chair next to us, tipping up the brim of his black hat with his index finger. “Don’t stop on my account.”