Blue Motel Room

by Tymber Dalton

  Kimbra didn’t want kids. Kimbra had her shit together.

  Kimbra was determined and went after what she wanted and usually got it.

  Yet…

  Kimbra had also given her the space Eve had asked for, not shocking after Kimbra divorced Walt for him wanting more than she could give him emotionally. Kimbra was driven and fueled by an inner furnace that on the outside Eve knew others thought she also possessed…

  Except she didn’t.

  Not really.

  She liked coasting along in this comfortable little rut she’d found herself in and not having to make any…decisions.

  This shit was so much easier when it was Ev I was worried about.

  She one-armed hugged Wylie so she didn’t drop the cheesecake she carried. “Where’s the big guy?”

  “He’ll be out in a minute. He was working in the shop later than he planned.”

  She followed him to the kitchen with the cheesecake she’d brought. “What smells so good?” She tucked the cheesecake into the fridge.

  “Chicken piccata.”

  “Oh, my god. I love you. If Ev hadn’t married you, I probably would have.” This was another thing she felt guilty about.

  She’d known for years that Ev was gay. Had encouraged him to come out to their parents. Insisted that they would understand, all while holding back her own secret. Yeah, she was technically on the bi side of queer, but she’d been a total coward and let him go barreling into the breech first with their parents.

  And now…she didn’t have a good excuse anymore not to tell everyone about her and Kimbra.

  Honestly? She was shocked no one had said anything to Ev and Wy about it yet. While only a couple of lifestyle friends, like Ron, and Kimbra’s ex, Walt, knew the full truth, they were all a pretty close-knit group. In retrospect, she supposed she’d hoped it’d accidentally get out and she could deal with it then.

  The longer the secret remained held…

  The less inclined she felt to disturb that carefully balanced canoe.

  Wylie studied her. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  “Just…tired.” She forced a smile. “Really tired.”

  “You coming out to join us on Saturday?”

  She flinched, then her brain belatedly connected and realized he was meaning that literally. “What’s happening Saturday?”

  “We’re having Ron’s Viking group over. Ev’s going to show them blacksmithing, and I’m going to show them homesteading stuff. They’re going to have their shield-fighting practice here, too, since we have the room.”

  “Oh. That’s right.” Ev had mentioned it the week before, but she’d honestly forgotten all about it. “Um, sure. I guess.” It was the perfect excuse to not have to make plans this weekend.

  Or you could ask Kimbra to join you, dumbass.

  Then Ev emerged from their bedroom and it spared her having to think about that.

  I’m a chicken-shit.

  Bok.

  She’d own it.

  Didn’t give her an easy way to overcome her anxieties and worries.

  And yet she still couldn’t walk away from Kimbra.

  * * * *

  “You all right?”

  Kimbra looked across the table at Ron. This Wednesday evening, he was all Viking’d out in full garb. With his sister staying home with her boyfriend due to the man’s bad pain day, Ron had called her at lunch and begged her to be his DD tonight so he could hang with his Viking friends and drink mead and not need her professional services later.

  “I’m fine, boo.” She played with her glass of Coke, swirling the ice with the straw. “Just…thinking.”

  “Aboooout?”

  “We’re here tonight for you, not me.” She waggled her fingers at him. “Enjoy.”

  She was still playing text tag with Eve. One of their ironclad points was their “relationship” could not interfere with their work. Apparently, Eve was deep into a case right now, and needed her evenings to either work or catch up on stuff at home.

  Except…

  It sure felt like she was being put off. Like once Eve heard Kimbra wanted to “talk,” Eve…didn’t.

  To be honest, Kimbra didn’t want to have this talk, either. She suspected Eve would rightfully go off on her.

  Strike one—getting freaky with a guy while blind drunk.

  Strike two—fucking him bare.

  At least her period had started, a little lighter than average, but the past year or so that’d been normal for her. Sometimes early, sometimes late, sometimes barely a day or two of spotting, sometimes days spent looking like a fight scene out of Ash vs. the Evil Dead. She wasn’t in menopause yet, but she was catching up to it and knocking on its door.

  But that worry was off her plate, fortunately. She’d have to get a couple of rounds of testing done over the next few months just to make sure, but she suspected they’d come out neg. The guy was a doctor, and likely very damn careful.

  Still, she and Eve needed to…talk.

  Kimbra wanted the talk to not only be about what she’d completely own up to doing, but also about where Eve really wanted them to go, if she still even wanted to be with Kimbra.

  Yeah, she loved Eve. But this was not sustainable, nor was it healthy. For either of them. Kimbra had finally hit her point that she wanted someone in her life. At least to the extent she could cuddle with them at night before falling asleep. Didn’t need to be attached at the hip, but being alone was…

  No longer preferable.

  Ron finally went back to chatting with his friends. Everyone had been nice tonight, and he’d even invited Kimbra to some Viking thing over at Ev and Wylie’s house on Saturday, except…

  No. She didn’t know if Eve would be there—because it was, after all, Eve’s brother’s house—and if she hadn’t even talked to Eve by then it would make for an uncomfortable day for everyone.

  She wasn’t into bringing her drama around others. If anything, she kept it deeply covered, putting on a mask for the world to see. Part and parcel of being an attorney.

  The mask.

  That’s the way she’d keep doing things.

  * * * *

  Ron was feeling absolutely zero pain when they finally finished dinner and he poured himself into Kimbra’s passenger seat for the ride home.

  “So…Saturday?” he asked. “Come with?”

  “Nah, I’m good. I think Momma said they have something going on they wanted me to put in an appearance at.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You have a talk with Eve yet?”

  She hadn’t told Ron what happened Saturday night, but the man wasn’t an idiot. She had told him she was going to talk with Eve, though. “Things’ll happen when they happen. I’m in no rush. How’s your love life?”

  “Touché.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

  “For the record, I won’t mention anything to her about last weekend if she’s there Saturday.”

  “I appreciate it.” Even more reason not to confess things to him yet. He’d likely chew her a new one for being careless, blame himself for being distracted—for taking her there in the first place—and worried to death about her until she had a few rounds of testing come back neg. Kimbra was a big girl and could deal.

  He didn’t need that extra burden in his life. The Dom was concerned, caring, and would absolutely take over and try to “fix” everything if given the slightest inkling his help was desired.

  Ron was a nurturer. The way he’d taken care of his older sister, Meri, and moved her from St. Louis back to Florida a few months earlier. She was a breast cancer survivor, and had lost her job—and insurance—and blown through her life savings and retirement paying for treatment. On top of that, her boyfriend had dumped her literally the day he drove her home from the hospital after her mastectomy. She hadn’t even told Ron what was going on until that final straw made her call him and tearfully admit it.

  Ron h
ad immediately flown out then to take care of her, then again months later to move her home to Florida, to his home.

  Now, it seemed, Meri had drastically improved her life by getting a new job Ron had arranged for her through Leo, Ev’s boss and another “friend in common,” as well as by meeting her boyfriend, Wynn, a man new to the lifestyle but a good man.

  And considering the brother was a slightly darker spitting image of Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson, a damn fine looking man.

  Lucky woman.

  If Wynn had been the slightest bit subby, she would have been all over that in a second.

  No, I have to be pining over a woman who’s got a subby streak, but who’s even more independent and stubborn than my own damn self.

  * * * *

  Ron knew it was the mead chattering at him, but he said it anyway. “Have you asked Eliza and the Frightful Five to set you up?”

  He wasn’t too drunk to see how she tensed. “No. And don’t you dare ask it for me.”

  “Why not? I thought you were going to?”

  “Because I’m not ready for that yet. No need to make an already complicated sitch even more so.”

  “Complicated how?”

  “Just…as it is. Everything about it. I don’t even know what Eve and I are right now.”

  “Her brother’s gay. Why is she putting this off?”

  “I don’t know, Ron. If I did, I wouldn’t be in this situation one way or the other, now, would I?”

  Her testy tone silenced him for all of maybe thirty seconds. “Want me to talk to her?”

  She let out one of those sighs and shook her head, her wild curls bobbing. “No. Absolutely not. No white-knighting on my behalf unless I expressly ask you for it.” She stopped for a light and looked him in the eye. “Red.”

  He grumbled. “Just want to see you happy.”

  “Worry about you, honey. I’m fine. You’re thirty-six. I’m older than you. I’m a functioning adult—I got this.”

  “I hate seeing you unhappy.”

  “I know, baby, and I love you for it. But I’m not miserable. I’ll work through this. Eve and I could be married in a month, or gone our separate ways, for all I know.”

  “You’re going to talk to her about this.” He hedged it more, by tone, as a borderline order.

  She caught that, too. “Don’t Dom me, boy. Hear me? We’re friends, and I love you, but I meant it. Red.”

  “Fine,” he huffed. “But promise me if you end things with her that you’ll at least talk to Eliza, huh?”

  “If I end things with Eve, I want it to be on friendly terms. We have too many friends in common, and I don’t want to mess any of that up. So this needs to happen between me and her, not with outside assistance, a’ight?”

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  She pulled into his driveway and he saw Meri’s car wasn’t there. She was supposed to spend the night at Wynn’s house and leave for work from there. “Text me when you get home, huh?”

  Kimbra smirked. “Baby, you’ll be passed out in bed by the time I get home. I ain’t textin’ you good night.” She pecked him on the cheek. “Now go on and get in there. I’m fine.”

  She waited until he’d unlocked the door to back out of his driveway. Once she was gone he locked the door and reactivated his alarm. If Meri did come home, she’d know to turn it off when she came in.

  After having Meri living with him, returning home to an empty house felt…

  Empty.

  Yeah, he’d need to shoot Eliza a text soon to see if they’d come up with any prospects for him yet, although he suspected if she had she would have been pounding on his door. No, this couldn’t be rushed, but after last weekend’s goose-egg, and now faced with his solitary life…

  I’m lonely.

  Chapter Six

  “Thanks again for letting us have this here today,” Ron told Everett for the bazillionth time Saturday afternoon. “We really appreciate this.”

  “Dude, seriously, this was cool. We enjoyed it. Thanks for the sword commission.”

  “Hey, I love your work.” Ron had shown Ev a picture of what he wanted a couple of weeks ago, and Ev had quoted him a price that was extremely reasonable and meant he’d get exactly the kind of sword he wanted. He wanted one he could use for their combat, with the heft and feel of a real sword, but without the sharp edge to it.

  Instead of buying some cheap Chinese crap off the Internet, he wanted to pay someone he knew, someone local who did quality work, to make him exactly what he wanted. He’d already given Ev the cash for the deposit, the rest to be paid upon completion.

  Ron and Everett currently occupied camp chairs outside Everett’s home shop and were watching some of the kids running around in the deepening twilight. Half of their Viking group had already packed up and left, and it looked like most of the rest were starting to think about doing that, too. Wylie had already returned to the house to finish some monthly accounting paperwork.

  Everett had held demonstrations on blacksmithing today, letting some of the adults and older teens who wanted to try their hand take a crack at pounding metal. Meanwhile, Everett’s husband, Wylie, demonstrated how to milk goats and other homestead activities. Maybe not exactly Viking-age stuff, but pretty cool nonetheless. In between those activities, they’d had shield fighting practice, while under a couple of picnic tents for shade, and with extension cords stringing to the shop, others had used sewing machines, or had been working on nålbinding, card weaving, chainmaille, or leather crafts. All of that followed by a scrumptious potluck barbecue that left Ron not wanting to move much even if he hadn’t been drinking heavily already.

  The men both held red plastic cups filled with mead. Ron had brought several sixty-four-ounce growlers with him, reserved for sharing with their generous hosts. He wouldn’t bother going home tonight, because Ev had offered ahead of time to let him spend the night in his old Airstream trailer, the Tin Can, parked under cover next to Ev’s shop. Even had air-conditioning.

  That way, Ron could drink to his heart’s content and not worry about driving.

  And Ron’s sister, Meri, and her fiancé, Wynn, could have Ron’s house to themselves tonight. Wynn’s neighbor was in the process of having a new roof put on, and they would be working tomorrow morning. During the work week, Wynn was up and out before they got started, but he wanted to sleep in tomorrow since he’d been having a bad week with his pain levels.

  Wasn’t like Ron had anyone to share a bed with.

  He shoved his loneliness back.

  Eve walked over and took up an empty camp chair. He’d been able to mostly avoid Ev’s sister all day without it even looking obvious.

  “What are you guys drinking?” She’d come over earlier and had fun helping Wylie teach the younger kids about goats and chickens and gardening. Ron had spent what contact he’d had with her that day being nice to her, friendly, not saying anything to her about last weekend. If Kimbra wanted her to know, that was between the two women.

  No matter how much he wanted to fix this for his friend, he knew he couldn’t.

  Especially since he’d been asked not to. Worse, she’d safeworded. Meaning he’d respect that.

  Even if he reeeeally wanted to fix this for Kimbra.

  “Mead,” Ron said, leaning over to snag another plastic cup from the sleeve of them next to his private cooler. “Here.” He pulled one of the jugs out of the cooler and poured her a little, just enough to taste.

  She gave the contents a tentative sniff before sipping. “Holy cow! This stuff’s awesome.”

  “Has a kick, too,” he warned as she held her cup out for him to pour more.

  She shrugged as she sat back and took another swallow. “Not like I’m going anywhere tonight.”

  “She’s crashing in our spare bedroom,” Ev volunteered.

  “I’ve already had a couple of beers,” she admitted, then gently elbowed her brother. “Big bro confiscated my keys.”

  “Ah.” Ron took another couple o
f swallows. He was already on cup number two and feeling no pain himself, so he wasn’t judgy.

  As more people packed up, helped clean up, and said their good-byes, Wylie rejoined them and took his own cup of mead. By the time they were down to just the four of them, it was after dark and Ron didn’t know about the others, but he was pretty shit-faced. Fortunately, Everett had a relatively new addition to his shop, a full, working bathroom, including a shower. Ron didn’t have to impose by going into their house or try to use the tiny one in the Tin Can. There were still nearly two full growlers of mead left, and he was going to do his best to chip away at it tonight, probably while watching gay BDSM porn on his laptop.

  Hell, wasn’t like he was worried about going home tonight.

  Didn’t have anyone to go home to. Not in a romantic sense, leastways.

  He’d showered and was returning to the Tin Can when Eve walked over from the house, a slightly lopsided smile on her face. “Any of that mead left?”

  He grinned. “Want to help me finish it off?”

  “Fuckin’ A, I do. Mead is forever, right?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, mead is forever. That is one of our battle cries for a very good reason.”

  He held the trailer’s door open for her and let her go first. Unlike the very brief time he’d seen her out and about with Kimbra at a munch, she’d acted very chatty today, friendly. He halfway thought maybe he could sound her out for Kimbra, despite Kimbra asking him not to.

  But…he hated seeing his friend so…miserable. And just like he was an “up in your business” brother, he considered himself that kind of friend.

  From the way Kimbra had sounded and acted last weekend on the way home from the Toucan, it proved to him she loved and wanted Eve. He wasn’t sure what had happened to adjust Kimbra’s thinking during that Saturday night—or maybe she’d had some soul-searching discussions with the twink she’d been talking with—but she sure acted like a woman in love and pining to him.

  If the two of them could get out of their own fucking ways and get together and work things out, maybe they could be happy together.