by Roni Loren
She gave a genuine smile at that. “That’s fantastic.”
“Yep. But that means I need to get my shit together, decide which songs I want to record, and polish them up.”
“And I need to drive out to The Ranch later to talk to Grant about my trainer schedule. Once I go full time at school, I’m not going to be able to do much out there.”
Georgia nodded. “Then I guess I don’t need to feel guilty for skipping out if we all have big to-do lists.”
Colby tugged one of her curls. “Never feel guilty for that, beautiful. There are three of us in this relationship. That can be intense. None of us should feel bad when we need to do our own thing or be alone.”
“Thanks.” But the words fell heavy on her. Relationship. Us. The ache in her chest spread wide. Part of her so wanted those words to be real. But she couldn’t let herself forget that this was temporary. Next week was Thanksgiving. She only had a little more than a month left before she was supposed to head back to Chicago. She gave the two guys a weak smile. “Now get out of here, both of you. I’m a busy, important woman.”
Colby and Keats laughed, and each leaned in for a quick kiss before they grabbed their things to head out. It all felt so domestic and comfortable.
But she couldn’t let herself latch onto that feeling, that comfort. This was not her life. This was her temporary fantasy.
She peered over at the box of letters and inhaled a long breath. Time to remember why she was here in the first place.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Georgia sat on the floor in her living room, letters fanned out around her as she went through the pile Leesha had reluctantly sent her. Her skin chilled as she read each line of the sick love notes Phillip had penned. On the surface, they sounded sweet and romantic—words from a man deeply in love. But Georgia could read the threats tucked between the lines.
No one else can ever love you like I do.
Fate wants us to be together.
I don’t go an hour without thinking of your face.
I won’t let what’s happened get in the way of our love.
She wanted to claw at the words, rip them into shreds, and toss them into the fireplace. But she forced herself to go through each one, trying to find something she could use in court. Surely, people would see that a sane man wouldn’t write a woman a letter every two days when she wasn’t returning them, right? But maybe some would see it as wildly romantic instead of wildly aggressive—a Valentine’s Day movie in the making.
Blech.
She’d learned that she liked her men without all that gloss on them. Colby and Keats didn’t need to write her letters or send her flowers. They didn’t need any flash. Every day they showed her they cared just by being themselves—the little kindnesses, the teasing jokes, and the way they made her feel when she curled up between them.
Being with both of them was . . . overwhelming and intense and sexy and perfect. But the day they’d come back from Keats’s father’s house, something had changed. Instead of just thinking about what fun they were having, she’d found herself entertaining what it would be like if this were something real, if she came back after the trial and tried to live this life with the two of them.
She’d fallen for them hard and fast.
And it had to stop. She couldn’t let herself continue like this.
She’d sensed things moving too quickly from early on. Even Leesha had picked up on it. But now Georgia knew beyond a doubt that it was more than a crush or a fling. Keats and Colby looked at her in a way that made her physically hurt. They looked at her like she mattered. Like this was so much more than sex. Like they wanted her to stay.
But she couldn’t.
She had to go back to Chicago for as long as it took. It wasn’t fair to ask the guys to wait around for her or put their lives on hold. Beyond the fact that there was no guarantee a relationship with the three of them would work long term anyway, her fate was in the hands of the court. If Phillip went free, she wouldn’t be able to come back, and she definitely wouldn’t be able to date anyone.
These letters confirmed exactly how dangerous that would be. No one else can ever love you like I do. Translation: I will kill every bastard who tries.
No. Phillip needed to be out of her life for good before she could let someone else in.
She knew what she needed to do. And part of that meant ending this relationship with Colby and Keats when she left. They could enjoy their remaining time together, but she couldn’t string them along with no definite outcome, and she wouldn’t do that to herself either. Her heart was already breaking, thinking about walking away from them, and that wasn’t where her head needed to be. She needed to put all her focus on Phillip. On beating this man who had hijacked her life and taken her sister away.
Until he was locked away, there was no space in her life for anything else. Love had gotten her in trouble the first time, but she wouldn’t let it derail her again.
She didn’t get to fall in love right now.
The guys would be fine without her.
Even if she might not be fine without them.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Keats popped a chunk of bell pepper in his mouth as he chopped the rest of the vegetables for the stir-fry he was making and sang along with the Keith Urban song playing on the radio. The door opened behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Georgia hauling in a bag of groceries.
He set down the knife and went over to take it from her. “What’s all this? I’ve already gotten everything for Thursday.”
She handed over the bag and set her purse on the counter. “I didn’t see any sweets in your stash, so I bought stuff to make dessert. It’s Thanksgiving, we need pie.”
“Pumpkin?” he said, trying not to make a face. He wasn’t a fan. That was all he remembered about Thanksgivings with his dad and Justin—going to the crappy diner in town and eating instant mashed potatoes, mushy turkey, and wet pumpkin pie.
“Nope, pecan. Plus, cranberry vanilla cheesecake. Got the recipe from my good friend Giada.”
“So Food Network?” he teased. He’d learned over the past few weeks that Georgia had a bit of an addiction to cooking shows.
She touched her finger to her nose and pointed at him in the universal you guessed it gesture, but her smile seemed distant, distracted. “It will probably be a complete disaster. I’ve never made it before, and I had to buy a special pan and everything. Is your brother still coming?”
“Yeah, he’s bringing the liquor, which is good. He may need it when he finds out that I’m also dating a guy and that the guy is Colby.”
“You think he’s going to freak out?”
“Probably. But I think he’ll be fine once he gets over the initial shock. I went to lunch with him the other day and told him I’m bi. He was totally okay with it. He said my dad’s views were never his and that after almost dying from that roadside bomb in Afghanistan, he’s learned how important it is to grab happiness wherever you can find it.”
Something flickered through Georgia’s eyes, but whatever it was disappeared before Keats could pinpoint it. “I’m really glad things are working out for you two. It’s good to have family around.”
“Yeah, it is. I didn’t realize how much I missed having that in my life.” He peered into the bag. “Did you go out and get all of this on your own?”
She tilted her chin up. “Yep. Second solo trip this week and no panic attacks. I even strolled through a bookstore before I got the groceries. They have my newest book on one of the front tables.”
He set aside the groceries and swept her into his arms. “Score.”
Since that day they’d gone to see his dad, she hadn’t let herself go more than two days without leaving the house. She’d put herself on a training schedule like a marathon runner. Each time she went out, she stayed out for longer, pushing herself to her limit.
He and Colby had taken to humming the Rocky theme music to her every time they got in the car, which always made her roll her eyes. And late last week, she’d decided she was ready to try it without him or Colby accompanying her.
And really, since that first shopping trip they’d all taken together, she’d had only two occasions where the panic had gotten the better of her. Once when an overzealous fan of her books had recognized her in a store and had hugged Georgia without warning. And another this past weekend when they’d gone to the bar to listen to Colby play and a drunk guy had crowded her in the hallway, trying to come on to her. Keats had been a few yards away and had hurried over when he saw what was happening, ready to kick the guy’s ass if he put his hands on Georgia. But before Keats had reached her, Georgia had put out her palms and shoved the guy back, shouting, “Back off, asshole.”
The guy, unsteady on his feet already, had hit the wall and said something nasty to her. She’d stepped up to him, poked a finger into his chest, and told him something Keats hadn’t been able to hear. The guy’s eyes had gone wide and he’d raised his palms in surrender.
When she’d stalked back Keats’s way, she’d grabbed his arm and dragged him with her out to the parking lot. “Get me to the truck so I can get this damn panic attack out of the way.”
She’d been shaking but clear-eyed. He’d hustled her into the cab of the truck, and she’d leaned her head back and breathed through it. Afterward, she’d insisted they go back into the bar to hear Colby’s set. She’d ordered a drink and had been fine for the rest of the evening. When Keats had asked her later what she’d said to the redneck, she’d smiled sweetly. “He told me to suck his dick. So I told him exactly what I would do with that appendage if he put it anywhere near me. It involved rusty knives and profuse bleeding.”
Keats smiled at the memory and looked down at Georgia. “Well, two solo trips in a row. That’s definitely something to celebrate.”
She shook her head. “No way. Tonight we’re celebrating you. I can’t believe you walk in to find out about a demo tape and land yourself a job.”
He gave her another squeeze and let her go. “I have a feeling a certain Mr. Fix-It pulled some strings, which normally would piss me off. But I’m not going to complain this time because it’s too good a gig. Entry-level, errand-running kind of stuff but at a recording studio, so I can’t ask for a better shot than that. And I really liked Pike, the guy who owns the place. You’d dig him. He has this bleached blond spiked hair and that whole rocker thing going on—more ink than me. And his band is a pretty big deal, so I kind of expected him to have that I’m-a-badass attitude. Because, really, I’ve heard their music. He is a badass. But he was so laid-back. And he’s totally into this pet project of having his own studio and producing start-up acts, so I think it’s going to be fun.”
“Is he interested in your music?”
He shrugged and went back to the cutting board. “He really liked the song I played and said he’ll try to bring in one of his friends to hear my stuff, a guy who has more experience with country music.”
“That’s awesome, Keats,” she said, sliding onto a stool at the island. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”
He frowned. “I don’t want that word to ever be in the past tense with you—knew. Fuck that, George.”
Her gaze flicked up to his, strain there. “I leave in a few weeks. You know that.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t come back afterward.”
She looked down the counter, her posture stiff. “The trial could take months.”
“So.”
“My life is there, Keats. My friends, the house I own. My lease is up on the house next door in January. You know this was never meant to be permanent. It was an unexpected detour.”
He put his back to her and turned the dial on the stove, a foul mood seeping in. “And me and Colby? We’re just a detour, too, then?”
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
He put oil in the pan, the dismissive comment stinging more than it probably should. He knew he was too attached already, that he shouldn’t be feeling like this after only a month, especially when Georgia had made her intentions clear all along. But some part of him had been harboring hope that this happy turn in his life wasn’t just an interlude before everything went to shit again. That’d been his cycle so far in life. Like those games at the fair where you throw a ring around the bottle and get a big stuffed animal. It seems so easy. Ooh, look, you’re going to get to have this really cool thing! Look, look how awesome it is. Here we go! Then, clunk, the rings fall back into the pit. Ha, ha, just kidding. Hand over another dollar, kid.
He could hear Georgia’s heavy sigh behind him and then she was against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist. She set her chin on his shoulder. “Believe me, it’s going to be hard on me, too. But you know even if I were staying here, this isn’t realistic.”
“Colby’s friend Jace has that kind of relationship. From what I understand, they do all right.”
Her breath coasted along his neck. “Is that what you really want, Keats? I’ve loved being with you two, and part of me wishes the three of us could make it work because I care for you both so much. But it’s complicated. And you’re twenty-three. I’m almost thirty-one and at a different stage in my life. I’m in a place where I want to settle down. One day sooner rather than later I want to start a family.”
His stomach knotted. “And you assume I don’t want those things, too? That Colby doesn’t?”
“Maybe Colby does. And I’m sure you do, too. One day. But at your age, you’re—”
“Immature, barely employed, incapable of taking care of you or kids.” He stepped out of her embrace and went over to the cutting board again. “It’s fine, George, I get it.”
“Keats, that’s not what I meant.”
But it was. They both knew it. If he wasn’t in the picture and it was just Colby, would she be saying the same stuff? With Colby she could have all those things she wanted—traditional marriage, a family, a guy who could win Dad of the Year awards. But no, here he was, in the way. And she was too nice to kick him out of the picture.
Colby got home from running errands a few minutes later and the conversation was dropped. They spent the evening eating together, talking about Keats’s new job and how Colby couldn’t wait to get back to school. It’d been relaxed and domestic. Comfortable. Happy.
It’d been that stupid game from the fair, waving the pretty stuffed animal in Keats’s face.
But he’d sat back and really watched Colby and Georgia together and could paint their future in his head. Things would be so much easier for them both without him photobombing the picture. Colby wouldn’t have to hide the fact that he was dating a former student. Georgia could have the kind of life she wanted without having to answer questions about her lifestyle. God knows what people would call her around here if they found out she was in a relationship with two guys. That kind of thing raised eyebrows anywhere, but here in Texas, it’d be a social death sentence. And he couldn’t even imagine what that could turn into if kids were ever part of the picture.
Maybe he had been immature to think something like this could work long term. He’d lived his adult life on the fringes of society, where people looked the other way and minded their business about things. The street had its own code of don’t ask, don’t tell. But that wasn’t the real world. That wasn’t the world Colby and Georgia lived in.
And so, as he lay in bed that night, watching Colby and Georgia curled up in sleep next to him, he knew what he needed to do.
Tomorrow, he’d get up and look for an apartment. Because he’d finally figured out how he could repay Colby for all that he’d done for him.
Keats would give him the girl he loved.
And get the fuck out of the way.
—
Georgia rolled over in b
ed, expecting to run into another warm body, but only cool sheets pressed against her back. She opened her eyes in the gray morning light. Colby was next to her, sleeping soundly. Keats was gone. She wasn’t surprised, but melancholy rolled through her like winter fog.
Yesterday she’d been honest with Keats, but it had come out all wrong. She’d told him their relationship was temporary; he’d heard disposable. She’d told him he was young; he’d heard immature. The words had cut him. She’d seen it on his face, how he’d instantly shut down. That sweet, open soul had scrambled back under its hardened shell, and the bitter mask he’d honed on the streets had slid back into place. Never before had she felt like such a selfish bitch. In that moment, she’d realized that no matter how genuine her feelings were for both of them, she’d used them.
She’d always known she would have to leave, but she hadn’t kept the boundaries clear. Yes, she’d told them the situation was short-term from the start, but her actions had sent a completely different message. She’d led them on, letting hope linger and bloom—maybe because she’d latched onto a little bit of it herself. Then she’d gotten those letters, and reality had slammed back into her.
She’d been stupid and reckless with two men who had been nothing but thoughtful and loving with her. And now her continued presence was only driving the knife deeper for them all. She’d felt it last night throughout dinner and their evening together. She’d wanted to talk to Keats one-on-one since they’d never finished their conversation from the kitchen. But he’d actively avoided being alone with her all night.
So when they’d finally reached the bedroom late last night and Colby had stepped out to get something from the bathroom, she’d broached the topic. But Keats had shaken his head. “It’s okay, George. We don’t need to talk about it. I’m fine.”
“You’re not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way—”