The truth was, she hadn’t been sure she was ready to move on from Rafe. Despite all he’d said about what he couldn’t give her, she felt safe with him. Protected. Not to mention understood. The idea of losing all that, of losing him, made her sick to think about. It was part of why she’d been avoiding decisions about her future. Maybe now she wouldn’t have to.
She truly cared about both of them, and something was definitely brewing between Mikey and Rafe, so why couldn’t the three of them have a relationship that colored outside the lines? Poly-fidelity was a term she’d learned while performing in that play; the idea of being faithful to more than one person, a closed arrangement all parties agreed to. They didn’t need to comply with any rules—the Theory of Deviance said so—and they could be living the dream.
They could rent a little cottage somewhere. Mikey could keep playing guitar. They could do summer stock and community theater, filling their days with song and their nights with frantic, sweaty sex.
Krissy twirled around, skipped over to drop onto the futon, and smiled at the ceiling. Was it having sex again or being onstage that was making her feel this good? Her performance had brought on a massive high better than any drug, and now she felt amazing. Invincible. Even her skin was tingling. She’d bet she could fly if she tried. She almost wanted to go to the roof to see if it was possible, then laughed at herself. That was crazy, and she wasn’t. She was just really happy.
Her phone buzzed in her sweatshirt pocket. When she thumbed over her screen, the euphoria ebbed. Quiet, like the snow outside.
What are you doing up so late?
She could almost hear her big sister’s disapproving tone in the text message. The twelve-year age gap between them had Kim acting like another parent growing up, and even more so since Krissy had gotten sick.
I could ask you the same thing, Kimmy.
It was a dare, a goad for her sister to dish some juicy gossip about how blissful her newly married life was. A reply came quickly.
I just finished doing my rounds. Call me.
Of course. Kim was an oncologist in a children’s hospital, her husband a respected surgeon. Her late nights were spent saving lives, not fingering herself in between two gorgeous men.
Her loss. Krissy chuckled, thumbed over to her contacts, and tapped on her sister’s name. It barely rang once before Kim picked up.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.
“Hello to you too.” Krissy sat up and stretched her legs out in a split, leaning toward one pointed toe. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not that late.”
“It’s so late, it’s early.”
“Then I’m getting a jump on tomorrow!”
Krissy brought her nose to her other knee, feeling the burn in her calf as the tension eased. She should take ballet lessons again. She could become a ballerina. Start her own dance troupe.
“Mom called me.”
Krissy froze mid-stretch.
“So?” she asked, but her sister’s sigh said it all. “I’m on vacation, Kim. And I’m twenty-one. I don’t have to check in every single second.”
“It’s not every single second, it’s once a day.” The sound of chair wheels screeching against a linoleum floor made Krissy wince. She could see her sister leaning back in her seat, jet-black hair in a perfect bun beneath the hospital’s fluorescent lights, white lab coat over her scrubs, a concerned scowl marring her elegant features. “It’s what we all agreed to, after what happened.”
“After I went crazy, you mean.”
She used the word on purpose, even though she wasn’t supposed to.
It had been barred from her family’s vocabulary when her therapist corralled them into his office a few days after she’d been released from the loony bin and set up her recovery plan. Daily check-ins, that was the deal they’d made. Everyone involved to minimize the chance of another hospitalization. But how long was she going to have to stay on lockdown like this? Didn’t they see how hard she was working? She was busting her ass to be the person she was before her fall from grace. She’d fucked up, but as Mikey pointed out, it wasn’t her fault. When were they going to stop punishing her for it?
“You’re not crazy,” Kim corrected. “You have an illness. A serious one, that needs to be managed properly.”
“How am I not managing it properly?”
“By not making any plans for after college. By spending all your time with your gay roommate. Going off to spend a week with him and some guy you just met—”
“I am making plans!” she hollered, then caught herself and whispered, “I went to a theater today to see about auditioning. And Mikey isn’t some guy. You met him at your wedding. You said you liked him.”
Kim’s accusations cut deep—the allegation that Krissy wasn’t trying. That what she was doing here was a sign of her symptoms being on the rise again. But that wasn’t the case. She was enjoying herself. Having fun. Sure, she’d gotten a little off track, but she could rein it in. She could manage it.
“I did like him, but Krissy…” Kim sighed again, and this one was sadder. Heavier. “Mom and Dad are worried. I’m worried.”
“I’m fine,” Krissy insisted through clenched teeth.
I’m not getting sick again.
“All right.” It was a white flag thrown on the battlefield, a stay of execution, until Mom and Dad woke up and sent in the real troops. “Is it nice out there? You’re having fun?”
Krissy glanced out at the snowy horizon again. A real answer wasn’t what Kim wanted. She wanted lip service, the verbal confirmation that Krissy was okay, proof that she was still the person she used to be.
“It’s nice,” she responded stiffly. “We ate lobster. It was great.”
The shrill sound of Mikey’s cell phone ringing interrupted her. Who would be calling him at this time of night?
“I’ve gotta go.” Krissy bolted to her feet and searched for the source of the noise. “Talk to you later.”
Kim’s goodbye vanished under the sound of another ring. Krissy finally found Mikey’s phone on the kitchen table, the word Dad on the screen.
Thoughts about horrible emergencies passed through her mind. The call went to voicemail before she had the chance to get Mikey, but it didn’t matter because he was racing from the bedroom, bare feet skidding over the floor as he shoved his glasses on. His hair was a mess, his thin, strong body naked except for boxer briefs.
Krissy swallowed down the pulse of desire it shot through her. Now wasn’t the time.
“It was your dad,” she said.
“Great.” Mikey held out his hand. He passed his free one over his forehead as she handed him the phone, dragging back the dark mop falling into his eyes. “Why is it freezing in here?”
Oops.
“The window.” She nodded jerkily over her shoulder. “I needed some air.”
Frowning at her, he pulled her to the futon, wrapped a blanket around her, then marched to the still-open window. He paused for a second, looking out at the wintery landscape before drawing the glass down and palming his phone. Sighing, he held it to his ear.
“You called?” he asked, then shook his head. “I’m off this week, Dad.”
His shoulders slumped as he bracketed a hand against the window. Krissy didn’t know what was being said on the other line, but Mikey’s replies of “Yes, I see the weather” and “Fine. I’ll be there soon” were a pretty good clue.
He ended the call and turned around. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Because of the snow?”
Stupid question. But she had to quiet the nasty voice inside her that whispered, no matter how much Mikey’s actions had proven the contrary, he was leaving because of her.
“Yeah. It’s not a blizzard or anything. Just bad enough that they need my help.”
He grabbed the remote, flipped the TV on, and fo
und a local news station. A winter weather warning blared from the red ticker at the bottom of the screen.
“I have to head home to suit up,” he said. “I won’t be gone long. We should be done before the morning rush hour. What are you doing up, by the way?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She put a tentative hand on his arm, circled her thumb and forefinger around his wrist. His hands were lovely, so capable of creating so much music and pleasure. “Is this what you want to be doing?”
Mikey laughed. “Freeze my ass off while I shovel? Not so much.”
“No—” She paused. It was no more the time to be asking him things than it was to be getting horny, but now she’d seen the real him. She hated it that he had to go out there and put a mask on, become someone different just to please everybody else. “I mean, who you are for your parents and the people at your church. Is that the version of yourself that you want to be forever?”
It was a loaded question, one with so many layers to it even she couldn’t keep track. But she was looking for…something. A confirmation, to see where he stood. To see if the fairy tale she’d fantasized about having with him and Rafe was something he’d be game for too.
“I don’t know.” Mikey held her gaze for a moment, then rotated his wrist so he was the one holding her hand. He brought her knuckles to his lips for a chaste kiss. “Can we talk about this later? I’m sorry, I’ve got to shower and get moving.”
She smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the raw edge of nerves behind it. “Sure.”
When he’d finally gone out into the day, cold air rushing inside along with a burst of snowflakes before he shut the steel door behind him, Krissy went to the bedroom and crawled under the covers beside Rafe.
“You okay?” he mumbled. He was facedown, muscular arms hugging the pillow beneath his head.
“I think so,” she whispered, tracing the lines of ink on his back.
She knew how much he loved the design. He was proud of the idea that he was a fallen angel, something wicked and rebellious that had been cast out of his family’s narrow-minded version of heaven, and wanted that permanently etched on his skin. But Krissy always wondered if a small part of him had done it as a penance—a reminder of the person his parents had seen when they looked at him in the hospital, any good in him forever tinged by the bad.
Sometimes, she didn’t feel so different herself.
“You like Mikey, don’t you?” she asked.
“Of course I do. I told you that.”
“Not just for me. For you too.”
He sighed, then slowly turned over, reached up, and touched her temple.
“What’s going on in there?” he asked, gazing at her from those soft, dark eyes that, even when he said they couldn’t be together, had always felt like home.
“Just thinking this doesn’t have to be only a week. The three of us…we could be more.”
His lips curled up into a small, sad smile. She loved Rafe, she truly did, but why did he have to look at her the same way her family did?
“Let’s not talk about this now,” he said. “Come here. You need to sleep.”
His response wasn’t so different from Mikey’s.
Krissy gave in, closing her eyes and sinking onto the mattress as Rafe curled an arm around her. Maybe they were both right. Now wasn’t the time to make decisions. She didn’t want to deal with reality anyway. She wanted to be here, in the bliss she’d found with the two of them in this quiet corner of the world.
So she burrowed deeper under the covers, letting Rafe shelter her as he always did, and waited for Mikey to return to them.
Chapter Ten
Mikey dug his shovel into a pile of white on the sidewalk, secured it there, and stretched. The hind ridge of the storm hugged the water in the distance, sun breaking through at the faint edge where the grey horizon of ocean met the clouds. It was a good thing too, since seven a.m. was approaching.
Exceptional service was the Pelletier Promise, and their customers signed their contracts with the knowledge that their driveways would be clear by the morning commute. Given the quick punch of today’s storm, it was no surprise Mikey’s father had called him in.
They would’ve been out earlier—two was the usual time to get started—but the storm had taken everyone by surprise, accumulating more than predicted.
He should’ve realized it was approaching when he’d left the theater last night. The air had been oppressive, heavy with the kind of cold humidity that came with snow on the coast. Any other day, Mikey would’ve been watching the Weather Channel and going through inventory to make sure they had enough salt, looking over their client list and planning which route to take. A lifetime working outside meant he’d gotten pretty good at predicting the weather, but he’d been otherwise occupied.
He took in a lungful of cold, clean air, retrieved the shovel, and went back to work, clearing out the sidewalk around one of their customer’s side paths. The hushed skittering of wind through the trees was so peaceful, which was funny since quiet winter mornings hadn’t been his favorite in the past.
Three of the company trucks had plows on them, and he’d usually rock-paper-scissors with the other employees to at least be on driveways, warm in the cab with a thermos of coffee and music to keep him company. He always felt loneliest during those times when his only company was a shovel or snow-blower, but he’d volunteered today, content to be outside with his thoughts. He’d attacked the ground with gusto, not needing a break at all, and it wasn’t the thermals beneath his sturdy Carhartt coveralls keeping him toasty.
It was the memories of last night.
Amazing. That was the only way to describe it. He was no longer a virgin on so many levels, and Mikey felt like a new man.
Last night was the most accepted, the most comfortable with himself and other people he’d ever felt. Not to mention the most pleasure. The urges he’d had for years were sated, his body relaxed in a way it never had been before. And that final time with Krissy bouncing on top of him, Rafe cupping his balls and easing a lube-slicked finger inside him until he found a spot that made Mikey writhe—he didn’t care if it was deviant. He’d do anything to have it again.
The concept of deviance had been on his mind when he’d left the warm den of the apartment and gone out into the dark, bitter morning. Deviation wasn’t inherently bad. It just meant departing from accepted social standards. Put in that context, it didn’t have to equate to something obscene, a monstrous crime he should abhor. It was all up to interpretation.
So was the word abomination. After all, the Bible said eating shellfish was an abomination, but he didn’t see everyone in southern Maine boycotting lobster. And Jesus didn’t let cultural norms dictate his relationships. He dined with prostitutes and was loved by social outcasts. He looked beyond what society said to do and saw into people’s hearts instead.
Maybe Jesus was the original deviant.
Mikey finished the pathway he was working on, feeling for the first time like a bit of a rebel. All his life, he’d never had the courage to do anything defiant. He hadn’t been wild like Dean and Connor were—never got detention, never got into fights or slept around without giving a rat’s ass. He’d merely sat in their shadows while they were the irresponsible bad boys he never had the guts to be, reaping the rewards of their protection and reckless attitudes.
Now he wanted to be like them. To have sex. Get a tattoo. To misbehave, and fucking enjoy it, for once.
The last driveway on their list cleared, Mikey helped the rest of the team pack their equipment into a company truck. He was dropped off at his parents’ house shortly after. Dean’s pickup was parked on the driveway where he’d left it, his getaway back to Krissy and Rafe clear, but Mikey could see his mother through the living room windows.
She was at the dining room table, her laptop open in front of her, ever-present cup of herbal tea to it
s side. She did the billing for the business and was no doubt emailing customers about today’s work, invoices with the Pelletier Property Services logo still decked out in red and green for the holidays.
He hadn’t gotten to greet her when he’d come through earlier, in too much of a rush to change and hit the pavement. He should at least go in and say hi before heading out again.
He opened the door and stomped off his boots on the mat in the entryway. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. Dad still out there?”
Mikey nodded. His father had radioed in from the other side of town. “A few places got more than South Portland did. He shouldn’t be out much longer.”
“Great. Thanks for helping today.” She put her elbows on the table, threaded her fingers together, and balanced her chin on her entwined hands. “Are you having fun with Krissy? Is her roommate nice?”
Mikey covered his cringe by looking at his feet, pretending to search for more caked-up snow. He’d told his parents about Krissy when Dean arranged the visit. His mother had tried to hide her enthusiasm, and he could see her doing it again now. A part of him wanted to be honest, but what could he possibly say?
Things are going great, Mom! Turns out her roommate is bi too, and we all fucked like rabbits last night.
“I am,” he answered. “Having fun.”
“Great. Why don’t you invite both girls over for dinner?”
He pinched his lips together. “Krissy’s roommate is a guy, Mom. His name is Rafe.”
Her mouth opened and closed as she blinked away her surprise. “Oh. Okay. Well you’re still welcome. We’d love to meet them.”
It was the normal response to have. After all, his mother would never think Mikey was doing…what he was doing.
“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’ll pass.” He paused, needing to give her some kind of explanation. “I don’t know if this is serious with Krissy. I’d rather wait until I’m sure, okay?”
She nodded, the prospect of him actually being serious with a woman enough to pacify her. “Sure. No problem.”
The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3 Page 12