by Mia Moon
Getting flirty texts from the guys after that had almost been more than I could handle.
In the end, I responded to the couple by saying that if they were at the point where they could trust each other in that situation, and they believed it would enrich, rather than impede their relationship, they should give it a try.
To my surprise, Terry the Editor loved it. No one had given me any details, but I got the sense the column might’ve been the boost to Saturday sales they’d hoped for. I personally hoped it had—job security was great for my wallet.
By Friday night, I didn’t have any plans set up with the guys. Feeling emboldened by my work, I reached out via group text and invited them to come over the next night.
Right away, my phone buzzed—three messages so close in a row the vibrations went on in triplicate, uninterrupted.
Heyyy! Hells yes. I was just getting ready to ask when we’d see you again. Andrew replied.
Oh, baby, it’s like you’re in my head. We’ll be there. Eric said.
Can’t wait. Wish it were already Saturday. That was Jonathan.
Another from Eric came right after that. Jonathan just had an amazing idea. We’ve got it covered. Are you in your PJs? Wish I could see that.
I wondered if I should invite him over. Instead, I replied to all of them. Wait, are you guys together without me? I added a frowny face.
Work stuff. Bunch of end of the month paperwork, Andrew sent back. We’re safe, just bored out of our skulls. Rather be with you.
That made me smile—he was always the first to let me know they were okay. And he texted me every night to make sure I’d locked up, even though the neighborhood was ridiculously safe. I sent him back, Thanks. I’m already locked up for the night.
Good girl, he replied with a wink emoji.
Send pics, Eric responded.
I laughed out loud. Knowing he was shy underneath made his bold teasing all the sweeter. I was, indeed, in a tank and PJ shorts. I snapped a quick selfie, checking it to make sure I didn’t have anything in my teeth before sending it out to them.
Then I waited. And waited. And waited. My nerves kicked up when I didn’t get anything right back.
Finally, my phone buzzed, and I opened a picture message to see all three guys—shirtless—grouped in together. They’d written huge letters with what looked like permanent marker on their chests! I squealed with laughter. Jonathan’s chest read we, Eric’s said miss, and Andrew’s said you.
You guys are crazy! I miss you, too! I sent back. I didn’t admit I’d probably look at that picture all night while I put my toys to work again. That was for me to know and them to never, ever find out.
On Saturday, the doorbell rang a full fifteen minutes earlier than the last time. When I’d welcomed the guys in, they’d traipsed through the house with more stuff than I could have imagined.
The backyard had never looked so good. Glass jars full of tiny lights were strung up in the lower limbs of the big bur oak. A hammock stretched on a portable stand next to the tree, and a set of bright lawn chairs was grouped nearby.
The stickiness of the air had finally dissipated, leaving behind the cool calm of night. It was late enough that the neighborhood had quieted down. We couldn’t even hear Jimmy hollering or running next door at Birdie’s anymore.
Eric and I had curled up in the hammock. He stroked his fingers over my bare arm as we gazed up at the stars.
Jonathan and Andrew were leaned back in the lawn chairs, peering up at the sky with us.
“You were right,” Jonathan said. “It’s perfect, just like you said in your romantic date column.”
I grinned and peeked over the edge of the hammock at him. “Thanks. I guess I’ve got a good imagination because I don’t have the personal experience to inform most of what I write.”
Eric’s fingers hesitated for a split second before they returned to their lazy crawl over my skin.
“You write a column like yours and don’t have the experience to back it up?” Andrew asked.
Their eyes were all on me, predatory in the hottest way. It was like they’d all been daring each other to ask it first.
“No,” I squeaked out.
Eric trembled and groaned next to me. “You’re killing me, baby,” he teased, tickling my arm. “Can’t think about you all innocent and so sexy at the same time. It’s making my brain feel like it’s running in two different directions.”
“Um…thanks?” I asked with a laugh.
“So that column today, then,” Jonathan spoke up, his voice rough around the edges. “How did you answer that couple who wanted to have someone watching if you’ve never…or…I mean—wait, have you?”
My cheeks were on fire—and not the kind the guys could put out. If anything, they’d make it worse. “No. I’ve never done anything like that. I had to think a lot about it, though. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be to imagine myself in positions I’ve never been in.”
“I imagine you in positions you’ve never been in, too,” Andrew teased.
I reached over to swat his arm, though I couldn’t quite reach him.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I just think through the scenario and decide how I feel about it.”
“But without any experience, how would you know?” Jonathan asked, still prodding.
“Well…I mean, how would you respond?” I asked.
The guys went quiet. Too quiet. Quiet for long enough that realization crept over me.
“Oh…you’d know how to respond because you have experience, don’t you?” I murmured up to the stars.
Eric’s caresses on my arms took on a comforting strength. “Yeah. A little. We all do.”
The way he said it lit my reporter brain up with questions. That part of me that was so well-versed at picking out both what someone was—and wasn’t—saying kicked in. “Together?” I asked.
“Would it freak you out if we said yes?” Jonathan asked.
I considered that for a moment as I blinked up at the stars. My blood pounded in my ears, and my breaths grew short—not from panic, but from lust. All those crazy fantasies I’d dreamed up of them during the week didn’t seem so crazy, after all.
“No,” I said with more certainty than I expected.
I wanted to sit up and inspect their responses, but that felt too intimate. Like I wouldn't be able to keep my hands to myself if they looked back at me the way I knew I’d be looking at them.
“I can practically hear the question buzzing in your brain,” Eric said, curling his arm tighter around me and snuggling his cheek against my head. “Yes, we’ve shared women before. It’s been a while, but we have.”
“Is that how you—I mean—prefer it or whatever?” I asked. Fire blazed up my thighs as I anticipated their answer. The wind, which was picking up around us, did nothing to cool the burning ache.
“Yes,” Andrew responded without hesitation. “But it’s not how we have to have it.”
“There’s no pressure on you,” Jonathan said, answering the question hanging in the air. “But we wouldn’t argue, either.”
“Oh.” It was all I could say. My mind was reeling. Should I try to straddle Eric in the hammock and go to town or jump up and demand they all ravish me at once? If I were honest, the thought of being naked in front of even one of them gave me cold sweats. Especially in my current condition—I hadn’t gotten a wax or even done a thorough shave in…wait. How long had it been? Yikes!
“Storm rolling in,” Eric said, his focus back on the stars, which were fading out behind thick clouds. Like they hadn’t just admitted they liked to share. Like they hadn’t just admitted they’d like to share me.
Share. What did that mean? Would I be with each one of them alone? Would I be with them together? We’d always been together so far. Was that how they liked it? The endless options flew through my head with dizzying speed.
A crack of thunder caused me to yelp and rush to untangle myself from Eric and the hammock. Lightning lit
up the sky, followed by another shot of harsh, clanging rumbles. The storm was close. It had come in so fast. It was right on top of us. Shivers overtook my body, and my teeth chattered. “We need to—this stuff should go inside. It won’t be safe out here. It’ll fly around everywhere. It could hurt someone.” My voice grew shriller with every word.
The guys jumped to the ready, though confusion laced their expressions. In no time, everything—right down to the pretty little jar lanterns they’d hung in the tree—had been picked up and piled in my living room.
Jonathan held me while Eric and Andrew did all the work. Without questions, he soothed me, stroking my hair and breathing deeply in and out. The rhythm of his breath against my back was strong and regular. I clung to it, trying to match my breath to it, though tears rolled down my face and embarrassment washed over me.
Andrew had just locked the sliding door when rain began to pelt the house. The drops sounded huge. Lightning lit the windows in terrifying blue-white bursts. The thunder rolled over us so loud it shook the windows and rumbled the floor. With every new crash, I jumped again and sobbed harder.
“Bree, Bree, Bree,” Jonathan murmured, continuing to stroke my hair after he’d tugged me down on the sofa, into his hold. “Breathe, baby. Focus on my breaths. Follow them. In and out. Come on.”
Andrew tucked a blanket tight around us, caging me in while he and Eric squeezed in on either side. Surrounding me.
“It’s only a storm, baby. It’ll pass,” Eric murmured, tucking his arm around me from my other side.
“You don’t understand,” I gasped out in hiccuped breaths. “It won’t be okay. It’s never okay!”
My incoherent rambling didn’t faze any of them. Jonathan continued to hold me close, exaggerating his breaths, so his chest pressed against my back where he held me, coaxing me to match every inhale and exhale.
“We understand more than you know, I think,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head. “I’ve been there.”
I sniffled and tried to move to frown up at him, but the blanket was tucked so cozy and tight around me, all I could do was shake my head.
“I know you think you’re alone,” he said, squeezing me in his hug. “But you’re not. It’s…it’s PTSD, isn’t it?”
Blanket be damned, I did manage to spin around on him then. “How do you know?”
“Been there, done that,” he said, a sad smile touching his face. “I was so good at it I should’ve won a damn trophy.” He tipped his head at the guys. “They were there through the whole thing.”
“But…you can’t just look at me and tell, can you?” I demanded, harsher than I meant to be. I’d known it all along, hadn’t I? Eventually, someone was going to see right through me, and all my issues would be on display.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Eric said, reaching out to stroke a stray piece of my hair back. “Someone who doesn’t have experience probably wouldn’t see it at all. But we thought we recognized the signs.”
“What signs?” I asked, though my indignation melted away to desperation.
“You prefer to stay in your safe space,” Andrew said, reaching around Jonathan to squeeze the hand I’d unearthed from the blanket. “You’re a little jumpy. You’ve got that look—like the world might fall apart around you if you don’t use all your energy to hold it together. It's the same stuff this one did at his worst,” he adds, tilting his chin at Jonathan.
“You?” I asked, finally grasping Jonathan's secret truth. Concern for him took over my awareness of the storm. “What? How?”
He sighed and held me closer, shifting so I was almost in his lap. “You might've covered it for the paper. I thought I recognized you when we met up close at Birdie’s barbecue. Do you remember that big fire downtown several years ago? The apartment building that went up like dry kindling?”
I nodded, then sucked in a breath. There had been one death in that fire. A child—four years old, if I remembered right. My heart and stomach dropped.
Understanding sparked in Jonathan’s eyes. “Yeah. That sweet little kid. I’m the one who couldn’t save her.”
The other guys drew in a breath, ready to argue, but Jonathan shook his head. “It’s not like that now. But that’s how I felt when it happened. It was my fault—that was all I could think. All I could hear was her crying. I was sure I could see her reaching for me, though the investigation afterward revealed I was never even close. There was no way I could have gotten to her. None of us could.”
He drew in a shaky breath and hugged me even closer. Comforting me with his embrace and comforting himself with the closeness. “When I was a little kid, my mom lost a baby. A miscarriage. Nothing she did wrong. It just happened. But afterward, she was never the same again. I couldn’t stop thinking about that after the fire. I was so afraid that family would crumble like mine did. They had an older boy, about the age I was when my mom fell apart. I convinced myself that he’d suffer like I had because I couldn’t save his precious baby sister.”
He roughed a hand through his hair before curling his arm back around me, that contact so necessary in the dark moment. My big, thick bear of a man, tucked all around me in a way that felt so warm and right.
“I thought I was cursed, you know? Like mental illness was my lot in life. Something I couldn’t escape. Something I’d brought on myself. My depression and darkness would’ve fucking killed me if I didn’t have these guys watching my back. Taking care of me when I couldn’t care for myself.”
“You were always stronger than you knew,” Andrew said. “You just needed us to remind you.”
“We had your back. Like always,” Eric added.
“I’m not trying to depress the hell out of you or scare you,” Jonathan said, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’m saying it’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to be scared and to have issues. But if you ever want it, I can point you in the direction of help. Get you the care you need so you can come out of whatever you experienced that brought this on you. Because—and hear me on this one, angel—you didn’t bring it on yourself.”
The room fell quiet. Nothing but the sound of Jonathan’s breath guiding mine. The worst of the storm had passed, though the rain persisted.
“Why don’t we stay with you tonight?” Eric asked, straightening the blanket back up around me. “Nothing naughty. Just in case the weather kicks back up.”
“Please,” I whispered, curling into their warmth, strength, and comfort and taking in everything I’d learned.
Chapter Six
After the storm, my relationship with the guys changed. With my dirty laundry out in the open, I no longer feared being honest about my issues. In fact, it was a relief when I let them in on my awkward secrets. I didn’t carry that baggage alone anymore—and the judgment I’d feared for so long didn't come.
When I’d told them about the tornado that haunted me, they’d been so understanding. Who wouldn’t be wrecked after something like that? Andrew had asked. Instead of feeling isolated and different, I felt…normal. I’d had a normal response to what happened to me. Any other decent human might have experienced the same.
Jonathan had been especially encouraging and open with me. He’d turned his experiences into something positive. He now advocated for understanding about mental health issues whenever he could. He’d even started up a support group online for rescue workers who’d had similar experiences. His attitude about it gave me hope—I might not always feel the way I did. With the right help and care, maybe I'd find the light again.
After talking all week via text, he presented me with a gentle challenge on Friday night.
Let me pick you up tomorrow night. I live a block away. Come to my place. Just you and me. It’s safe, I promise.
I steadied my breath like he’d shown me during the storm. Focused on the in that always came, bringing in fresh air. The out that always went, sweeping away the anxiety that still rocked me when I was caught off guard.
With shaking fingers, I tapped out my r
esponse. Two letters. Not the hardest I’d ever typed, but close. OK.
The rush that swept through me surged with worry, but excitement held more sway. I went to my closet to pick out my outfit in advance. Dark jeans and a crimson button-down tank that dipped low enough in the front to flaunt a hint of cleavage. It was prettier than anything I’d worn in a while. The deep red gave me an extra boost of courage. I hung it up on the hook over my door so I could gaze at it while I tried to sleep. I was strong. I was brave. I could do this.
Jonathan picked me up in his big navy blue truck. True to his word, his house was one block over. How had I lived that close for so long and never noticed him walking out his front door or driving home?
I touched my hair with nervous fingers after he helped me out of the truck. I’d pulled it up in a clip, but that was the most I was good at, besides my running ponytail. Makeup and I were almost mortal enemies. Beauty routines might as well have been a ritual for an ancient curse. There was always blood and someone screaming…usually me. I decided to stick with what I knew—quick mascara, sheer gloss.
We were having dinner at his house.
Don’t bring any food with you, his last message teased. He was still picking on me—sweetly—about my awful choice in store-bought cookies.
Sweat prickled the back of my neck. I shifted my weight, mentally talking myself down. I didn’t have to run or hide. He saw me. He understood me. I was safe.
Jonathan grinned over his shoulder, holding the door open for me to step in first. “I’m so glad you were up for this,” he said.
I stepped through the door and waited for him to follow. “Thanks for asking me,” I replied. “And for encouraging me, too.”
He took my hand as he closed the door behind us. “So, this is my place,” he said, flipping on the lights. He kept his home nice and cool.
The kitchen was, without a doubt, the heart of Jonathan’s home. An undeniable warmth emanated from it, calling me forward. The living room was a quaint afterthought, tight with cozy furniture.