Three Brothers: A Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  “Be right back,” I say. I hustle into the kitchen, grab Mitchell's sandwich and deposit it in front of him unceremoniously. “I have to take care of other customers, but we're not done.”

  About ten minutes later, when I'm nearly caught up, I run into Rita in the kitchen. “Had a bit of family drama?” she asks. “Everything okay?”

  “Ugh!” If anything, my frustration has increased while I was waiting tables. I've been trying hard to move on — and a date with someone new may have helped me do that — but Mitchell just stood in my way.

  I fill Rita in quickly while we wait for our orders. “Do you have siblings?” I ask her. “Is this what brothers are like?”

  “Hmm. Could be.” She looks thoughtful.

  “He really had no right,” I say.

  We collect our plates and head back out into a full swing lunch rush. When I can, I stop by Mitchell. “Need anything else?”

  “Just the check,” he says. “Are we okay? I didn’t mean any harm.”

  I glare at him while I reach in my pocket for my order pad. “I appreciate that you were looking out for me,” I say, exhaling a deep breath, “but I can look out for myself, despite what you've seen of me since our parents died.”

  His face crumples as if I just punched him. “I never thought you couldn't.”

  “If you were concerned, you could have said something to me later. You shouldn't have interrupted and made me look foolish in front of Ethan.”

  I lay his check on the counter and push it slowly toward him, softening my body language. He needed to know he was out of line, but it’s not my intention to make him feel bad.

  Mitchell takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I'm sorry.”

  “Okay.” I look around at the busy café. “I need to go. But is there going to be some sort of celebration for Finn?”

  “I don’t know… I did want to talk to you about that. Our aunt was going to come, but she has bronchitis and can’t make it this weekend. It’ll be just the four of us. Not much of a party.”

  “We should do something. Maybe just a nice meal. How about a cookout?”

  Mitchell’s face brightens. “That would be good.”

  “I’ll get a cake. Maybe Reid and I can work out a menu tonight?”

  “I think Finn would like a cookout. That’ll be great. Thank you, April.” He smiles at me, his long lashes framing his kind eyes, and I feel the warmth of it down to my toes.

  8

  Comfort and Kindness

  The next day is humid and already uncomfortably hot at ten in the morning. Big, heavy-looking clouds threaten rain, but the forecast promises it’ll hold off until the afternoon.

  We’re all feeling the absence of our parents even more than usual as we ride to the stadium. Finn’s gone ahead of us, but Mitchell, Reid and I ride together in the pickup, and through some unspoken agreement, none of us mention what’s most on our minds.

  “It’s good that you encouraged Finn to do the ceremony,” I say, as I stare straight ahead. The pickup’s cab isn’t as wide as the landscaping truck, and there’s not enough room to avoid contact with them. I’m hyper aware of my legs touching theirs each time we go around curves.

  “I don’t think ‘encouraged’ is the right word,” Reid says with a chuckle. “I seem to recall bodily harm being threatened.”

  “That seems extreme,” I say.

  “Nah,” Reid says. “Sometimes that’s what it takes to get through to our little brother.”

  I exhale a laugh. “You might want to double check. I think your little brother might be an inch taller than you.”

  “I could still take him,” Reid says.

  Mitchell and I both laugh at Reid’s show of bravado. “It must be nice having siblings,” I say. “I mean, I bet you had fun when you were growing up.”

  “Most of the time,” Mitchell says.

  “Sometimes I wanted to be an only child,” Reid says.

  “Me too. And I was, for a blissful two years,” Mitchell says.

  “You don’t know how lonely it can be,” I say.

  They don’t respond, and I fear that I’ve come too close to the pain we’re all suppressing today. I’m trying to think of something to say to move past the uncomfortable silence when our attention is drawn to the big line of cars ahead of us.

  “Traffic? In Woodford? I never thought I’d see it,” I say.

  “Sure. It happens all the time,” Reid says.

  “More like three times a year,” Mitchell says. “Move-in day, move-out day, and graduation.”

  “Don’t forget football games,” Reid says.

  “Those crowds haven’t been as big since the team stopped winning a few years ago.” Mitchell applies the brake, and we join the line and inch toward the stadium.

  I let my mind wander during most of the ceremony. I can’t help but remember how excited and hopeful I felt at my graduation, and I don’t want to go down that path. It only leads to sad and painful places.

  I try not to think about how unfair it is that Finn isn’t even getting a chance to feel that same sense of hope, no matter how fleeting it may be. I don’t know at what point a person should find out how hard life can be, but twenty-two is too young for that reality.

  I remind myself that many people experience hardships even earlier: kids who lose their parents earlier in life, children who themselves have serious illnesses, families in war-torn countries. I shake my head, pull myself out of the grief I’m wallowing in, and instead try to count my blessings.

  This is a day to celebrate, not a day to mourn, and I have three strong, caring stepbrothers in my life. I have an education; I have my health. Things will be okay. Eventually.

  Finally the graduates are filing onto the stage, one by one, and when Finn’s name is announced, I manage to catch a glimpse of him through the crowd. On my right, Reid’s taking a video with his phone, and on my left, Mitchell is standing stock still, looking quite proud.

  When Finn has received his diploma and is following the line back to his seat, I reach over and grab Reid and Mitchell’s hands in mine, giving them each a squeeze before I release them. We exchange smiles, and I think genuine happiness passes between us.

  Afterward, we meet up with Finn and take the obligatory photos to commemorate the day. We don’t make too big a deal of it, and Reid cracks even more jokes than usual, making sure our moods don’t falter.

  “We thought we’d have a cookout today to celebrate,” Mitchell says to Finn. “Do you want to invite some friends over?”

  “Or if you were planning to go to parties, we can cook out tomorrow,” Reid adds.

  Finn’s face is serious. “A cookout sounds great. I might go to some parties next week, but today, what I’d really like to do is visit the cemetery.”

  All the smiles we’d mustered for the congratulations and the pictures fade away.

  “Sure,” Mitchell says. “Sure, we can do that.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Reid says, clamping his hand on Finn’s shoulder.

  “We should’ve thought of that,” I touch Finn’s forearm and then let my hand slide down and take his hand in mine. “Let’s go.”

  He squeezes my hand, and warmth radiates all the way up to my cheeks. “Want to ride with me?” Finn asks me. To his brothers, he says, “We’ll meet you there.”

  The four of us make our way to the parking lot and then go our separate ways. Finn and I are still hand-in-hand until we take a path between parked cars and need to separate to fit through the narrow space. At his car, he gallantly opens my door and closes it behind me when I settle in. Michael, and maybe even their mom, definitely taught these men how to make someone feel cared for.

  “I’m glad it didn’t rain,” I say when he’s in beside me.

  “Sure looks like it could any minute.”

  “Yeah. Hopefully it will hold out for another hour or so.”

  There’s another traffic jam — if you can really call it that here — as we leave campus,
but the drive to the cemetery is a short one. Mitchell and Reid are already parked near the gravesite when we arrive.

  I’ve been here only once since coming to live in Woodford. I feel my mom with me everywhere, so I don’t feel a strong pull to visit her grave, but when I did visit, it was nearly overwhelming.

  “We didn’t bring flowers,” I blurt out, when we’re all out of the vehicles. “We should get flowers.” The small regret hits me nearly as hard as so many others have. I should’ve called more instead of texted. I should have visited more. I should have said “I love you” so much more.

  “It’s okay,” Mitchell says. “They’d get drowned later today anyway.”

  We all look up to the sky, and agree that he’s probably right. My panicky wave of regret slowly subsides.

  “We can come again soon and bring flowers,” Finn says.

  “Sure. Anytime,” Reid says.

  Together, we walk up to the graves. The men aren’t just visiting their dad; their mom is here, too. When she died, Michael bought a plot next to hers. When Michael and my mom died, there was no plan in place for their burial. I had no idea what to do, no idea what she would have wanted, and Mitchell suggested that she be buried next to Michael and their mother. They insisted that their mom would have wanted Michael to be with both of them.

  I start to choke up before we reach the graves, overcome with the memory of the comfort and kindness these three men offered me, even while they were grieving themselves. My mom had no other family; they welcomed her into theirs, and now they’re welcoming me, too.

  “Thank you,” I say, my voice filled with emotion. I can’t say more, and I hope they somehow know my gratitude is for more than their offer of a return visit here.

  Mitchell puts his arm around me as we approach, and we all stand close, heads bowed, silent for a long time.

  So many images pass through my mind, a slow procession of both memories and thoughts of the future, all of them mostly heavy, dark, grief-stricken.

  I don’t know how much time passes, but gradually I’m aware of the wind picking up.

  Reid breaks the silence. “He made it, Mom and Dad. Finn graduated.” He makes a choked and forced-sounding whoop of celebration, and Mitchell pats his youngest brother on the back.

  “Want a moment alone?” Mitchell asks him. Finn nods.

  Mitchell bends down to clear a few sticks from his parents’ grave. The date our parents died has been added under their father’s name. My mom’s plot is indicated by a temporary marker; the gravestone is still being made. I touch the marker, send a thought her way, and slowly move away with Mitchell and Reid, who both put their arms around me as we depart.

  I feel their support and comfort, physically and emotionally, and I also notice that they don’t ask me if I’m okay. It’s a small but important victory. I am incredibly sad, but I am okay.

  The rain holds out until we’re about a mile from home, and then it pours, as if holding back all morning multiplied its power. A few big drops hit the windshield and then it’s a solid downpour, coming down so hard that the windshield wipers can’t keep up.

  Finn keeps driving, though at a much slower speed, and we make it home safely. Through the deluge, I see Reid and Mitchell standing on the porch watching us as we make a run for it. We’re thoroughly soaked by the time we reach them.

  “What happened? You get wet?” Reid asks. He and Mitchell are dry, apparently having made it home just in time.

  “Yeah, a little,” Finn says, shaking his head back and forth with the intention of spraying water onto his brother like a wet dog.

  Reid reaches out to roughhouse him but instead pulls him into an affection bro hug. “You hungry?”

  “Starved, actually. You, April?” Finn says, turning to me as I wring water from my hair.

  “Sure. Let me change into dry clothes and then I’ll help cook.”

  When I step into the house, something feels different. It feels like home for the first time. Refuge from a literal storm. A place of comfort and protection. It feels like family. My family.

  I know it’s only a temporary harbor for me, but it feels good to know that I will have this home in my life, even when I move on.

  After some quality time with a thick bath towel and a hair dryer, I head back downstairs in a loose t-shirt and yoga pants. It’s still pouring outside.

  “What’s the rain plan?” I ask Mitchell, who’s in the kitchen forming burgers.

  “I can still grill. It’s covered. As long as the wind isn’t blowing too much.”

  I pull aside the curtain at the kitchen window. “Seems a little calmer,” I say. “Doesn’t look like it's stopping anytime soon, though.”

  “I love this weather,” Mitchell says. “It means we’ll have more business this week, cleaning up debris, maybe clearing downed trees.”

  “That’s good, I guess. I love it, too, because it makes being inside feel so cozy.”

  Mitchell looks over at me and smiles, a beautiful, rare, unburdened expression on his face that makes my heart sing. The irritation I felt toward him yesterday at the café is gone. I know he had my best interests at heart, and I suspect he won’t overstep in the future, if a similar situation should arise. It's nice to know that he's looking out for me, though.

  “I’m going to make a salad,” I say. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Don’t let her cook anything,” Reid says loudly as he comes into the room.

  “Stop picking on her, or I’ll make you go outside and cook in the rain,” Mitchell says.

  “I don’t mind,” says Reid. “Want a glass of wine, April? I bought two different reds.” He brings them from the pantry to show me.

  “Thank you, Reid. Either is great.”

  “Beer, Mitchell?” Reid asks.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  After setting us up with drinks and grabbing a beer for himself, Reid takes a bag of marinating chicken out to the grill, and Mitchell follows with a plate of hamburgers. I put on a pot of baked beans and am preparing the salad when Finn comes in. His hair is still damp and he smells fresh from the shower.

  “We’ve started celebrating without you, Finn. Want a beer or a glass of wine?”

  “Sure. I’ll get it. Need any help?” He leans against the kitchen island just across from where I’m chopping vegetables.

  “Want to get a big bowl down? That’s really all I need.”

  After he sets a glass bowl beside me, he says, “Thanks for being there today.”

  “Of course. Are you glad you went?”

  “I guess so. Yes. I’m just glad it’s over, really.”

  “I get that,” I say, pausing my knife cuts to meet his eyes.

  The door bangs and Reid comes back in.

  “Too many cooks at the grill?” I ask.

  “You could say that,” he says with a laugh.

  “Got yourself a beer, little brother?” Reid says. Finn raises his bottle and Reid clinks his against it. “Cheers, and congratulations.”

  “Cheers.”

  I smile over at both of them and again feel a sense of homey comfort wrap itself around me. It’s the simple things, all of us talking and cooking together, safe inside this big house while the rain beats down on the roof in a steady rhythm and flows from the gutters.

  I’m content, and it’s a terrific feeling.

  9

  Sure, Strong, Steady, All Man

  Our indoor cookout turns out great. Instead of eating outside as planned, we gather around the kitchen table and feast.

  As a finale, I bring out a cake I bought for Finn that I'd hidden in the back of the refrigerator. We sing his praises and toast his accomplishments again before digging into dessert.

  “Are you ready to get to work tomorrow?” Reid asks. “Ready to take Nolan Landscaping to the next level?”

  “I've been ready,” Finn says. “I have a lot of ideas. Are you ready to hear them?” He looks at both of his brothers and there's a note of challenge in
his tone.

  “It was important that you focused on school. I didn't want you to get distracted by the business and let your grades slip.”

  “That never stopped you from putting me to work on the weekends,” Finn says.

  Mitchell's voice grows serious. “That's different. There are challenges to managing things, and I didn't want you worrying about it.”

  “What specific challenges?” Finn asks.

  Mitchell glances at me then looks back at Finn. “Now isn't the time to talk about it.”

  But Finn has set down his fork and is fully focused on his brother. “Are things in bad shape? You should've let me look at the books.”

  Mitchell looks uncomfortable and hesitates.

  “Finn, you know the truck is always breaking down. And we want to grow the business but that means more workers and more equipment,” Reid says.

  Mitchell clears his throat.

  “But now isn't the time,” Reid says. “Today we're celebrating. You can dive into the books tomorrow.”

  “He's right,” Mitchell says.

  I've been quietly eating during their conversation, wanting to stay out of what feels like it's not my business. I'm taken by surprise, though. I knew about the truck, but didn't realize there were other issues. I'm curious, of course, but it's clear the discussion is over.

  “More cake, anyone?” I ask, rising from my seat.

  The brothers chorus their “no thanks” so I pack up what's left and put it away.

  “I would like another beer while you're in there, please, April,” Reid says.

  “Me too,” says Finn.

  “Mitchell?” I ask.

  “I'm good. Thanks.” He drains the last of his bottle, takes his plate to the sink and leaves the room without saying anything else.

  I start to clean up and Finn rises to help me.

  “Go relax,” Reid tells him. “It's your party. I'll clean up.”

  “Yeah, we'll get it,” I say.