FOSTER BROTHERS - A MFM Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” I feel the weight of my brother's anger and it doesn’t feel good.

  “Figure it out dude, you're a grown man. Get your head out of your ass, stop thinking about your own issues and man up. You love her?”

  “Of course I do. She’s our sister. But that woman…that’s not Missi. Not the Missi I know. What can I say to her now, after what we did?”

  Flint rubs his palms over his shaved head, pushing an exasperated breath through his lips.

  “It doesn't matter. Okay, she's our sister, yes, but she's our foster sister. I know you found her and I know you protected her and yes, I know she's our sister, but she's not blood related to us. We don't share any parents; we share a past. All this time we've wondered where she is and now she's back. I don't know why and I don't care either. C'mon man, we can help her now. Look where we are!” He gestures around my large master suite. “We can take care of her now. It can be like it was before, when we were kids.”

  “You want to bring her here?”

  “Why not?”

  “Flint, you know why not. I'm supposed to let her come here and get attached, just so I can break her again when...”

  “I guess you forget about me.”

  “What about you?”

  “I'll be here. I can pick up the pieces.”

  I close my eyes and pinch at the bridge of my nose. I feel like it would be a huge mistake. Bringing her here in the first place when she was just an anonymous hook-up seemed like a big enough step, and now that I know who she is, it’s even more of a risk. Having her around, the possibility of her getting attached, of getting attached to her, I just don’t think I can do it.

  “You don't even know that she wants to come here.”

  “So, if she doesn't I can at least make sure she has an apartment in a safe place. I want her back in my life, Hudson, and I'm going to make sure she's in it, with or without you.” Flint turns and heads down the hall and I hear the door to his room slam shut.

  Is he right about this? Can we do it? Can we bring here? Hell, she probably doesn't want to be here with us, with me, anyhow. Why would she after the way I hurt her? Flint's right, though. We can help her if she’s living the way he said. I may not have a heart, or time, but I have money. Between me and Flint, we can give her a life she deserves. Somehow, though, I don’t think she’s gonna want to listen. We’ll offer and she’ll refuse, then Flint can buy her a nice apartment and bully her into living in it, and it will be over. I crawl back onto the bed and pull the covers around my shoulders, inhaling the scent of Missi's shampoo that remains on the pillow.

  She's family and that’s all that matters, no matter how fucked up things are.

  21

  RIVER ENTERS THE CHATROOM

  Raven: River, why do you keep coming here to talk to me?

  River: Because I like you.

  Raven: But you don’t seem like the kind of person who needs a stranger to talk to.

  River: Why not? I find strangers to hook up with.

  Raven: Yeah, but like you said, that’s not the same thing.

  River: I like having someone to talk to who doesn’t know the real me. You can’t judge me on anything but my words. On the here and now. No preconceptions. No judgments.

  Raven: This isn’t the real you then?

  River: Maybe I should have said the physical me. Or the old me.

  Raven: You’re different now, you mean.

  River: I am. I’m a very different person from who I was even a year ago.

  Raven: Will you tell me why?

  River: No, little bird. That’s a question too far.

  Raven: You never really answered the original question. Why do you keep coming here to talk to me?

  River: I did answer. I like you. I like talking to you. And you’re the one person who will just listen to me without trying to fix my life. That’s refreshing when you have so many people around trying to tell you what’s best for you.

  Raven: If it wasn’t me, would there be someone else?

  River: I seriously doubt it. I don’t think I could find anyone else like you. I don’t think I want to.

  Raven: What would you do if I disappeared tomorrow?

  River: Is that a threat?

  Raven: No, I didn’t mean that I would leave on purpose.

  River: Don’t you dare disappear on me!

  Raven: It’s just that, sometimes things happen that you have no control over.

  River: I know all about that, baby. Don’t mess with me though. I swear I’ll hunt you down.

  Raven: Don’t do that, I don’t want you to get hurt.

  River: I’m pretty damn hard to take out.

  Raven: Just promise, if something happens, that you won’t come looking for me. Okay?

  River: Little bird, are you in some kind of trouble?

  Raven: I can’t tell you that, River.

  River: So many secrets. I can help, you know. Just say the word and I’m there.

  Raven: Promise me, River. Promise you won’t come after me.

  River: I can’t do that. Not after all we’ve been through together.

  22

  MISSI

  Flint's gone, but in the silence of the darkened room, I can’t stop thinking about the past. There was a summer when we all messed around in a kiddie pool. We were such dirty kids I swear our foster parents got that little pool for us just so we'd get some sort of bath. We'd spend all day jumping in and out of it, splashing each other with water that became muddier and muddier as the day wore on. I laugh out loud thinking about how we'd be so dirty that our foster mom wouldn't let us inside to eat. She'd pile peanut butter sandwiches on a paper plate and we'd go to the back of the yard, under the shade of a tree, and lean against the fence while we wolfed them down.

  Hudson and Flint ate more than anyone I'd ever known and always squabbled over the last one. I’d tear it in half and make them share. Then we'd lie back in the grass, me between my two boys, dirty feet propped on the fence, and talk while shadows grew long across the back of the house. We'd talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up, when we were out of foster care. My ideas changed from day to day but Flint’s was always the same, he wanted to be a veterinarian. We weren't allowed to have pets but I remember once when he helped a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest.

  Hudson didn’t know what he wanted to do, he just knew he wanted to be rich. When I asked him why he said because money is power and he never wanted to be in a position where he was weak again.

  It looks to me like Hudson has lived up to his dreams, anyhow. I wonder what they do, how they made so much that it didn't matter how much this fancy hotel room cost. One night had been more than the rent on my tiny efficiency apartment for a month. The house, the fancy SUV with the slick leather interior, the expensive motorcycle. Whatever they do, they do it well. They're certainly successful.

  What I don’t get is why Hudson is so sad. What's changed him over the years? He was happy growing up, I mean, when he was with me and Flint, he was happy. He was always the sensible one, the responsible one. He had his work cut out keeping Flint out of trouble, but he was happy. Now, his sadness, his loneliness seems to have seeped deep into his soul. He’s such a big man; tall, strong and muscled. He always seemed larger than life to my little girl eyes, but something about him seems smaller now. His eyes seem to have lost the spark of determination that made him the Hudson I knew when we were little.

  My Hudson was strong, physically and mentally, and faced challenges head on. He wasn't afraid of a fight and stood up for me and Flint all the time. My River is broken, lonely and afraid of love. He has secrets that he won't tell me about. Worries that burden him so much he won’t live his life the way he should. Look at what he has to enjoy, and he’s spending every night in a chatroom talking to me.

  I love Hudson and I love River, but I don't know which one is real.

  There’s a part of me that feels like I don’t know Hudson anymore.
I don’t know what’s happened in his life. I don’t know anything about the things he’s done. Time can change a person if they’re forced to do horrible things.

  I feel like I know River. His thoughts, anyhow. I don’t know everything, of course. River holds back with me, but what he does tell me is honest and raw, and I know when we talk that I help ease whatever pain he’s feeling. Even before I knew he was Hudson I felt an undeniable connection to him that went beyond our chatroom talks. We just fit in the way that puzzle pieces slot together.

  I felt like I was home.

  Then Flint had to step in. He surprised me tonight, taking over as my protector. He still has that steely determination in his eyes that he had when we were kids. There’s something missing though. Through all the tough times, Flint was always the one who kept cheerful. His eyes were always so playful and mischievous. Now I just saw worry. I could tell he wanted to protect not only me, but Hudson too. I could tell he was concerned about the both of us.

  I sigh and roll over, tucking the bedding in tighter around me. I can’t believe I’ve found my boys again. Thinking about leaving them again hurts so bad. But I don’t have a choice because it's too dangerous for me to stay. I know it’ll be safest for everyone if I just go, but part of me, the part that is as empty as a black hole, doesn’t want to.

  I wish I could rewind time and go back to the days when I slept between them. Hudson and Flint were like two shields against all the bad in the world. If it was just me, then maybe I could find a way to stay, but I don’t come without my baggage. Too much trouble and pain follows me in the shadows, and I don’t want to bring anything bad to their doorstep.

  I sigh and close my eyes, feeling so alone. There’s no one for me to call. No one to share any of my heartache with. But for the first time in a long while, I feel safe in this anonymous room. I don’t know how long it takes for me to drift off into sleep with Flint’s steely eyes and Hudson’s pained look in my mind.

  A light knock on the door stirs me awake. The room is brighter and a voice calls out “Housekeeping” so I’m guessing it must be morning. I roll over and peer bleary-eyed at the alarm clock beside the bed. That’s when I notice the roll of bills on the table. Holy shit. I pick it up and count. There’s close to a thousand dollars there and Flint’s phone number is scrawled across a piece of the hotel’s stationery.

  The door knob rattles. “I still here,” I call and the rattling stops.

  “Oh, sorry, I’ll come back later,” the lady on the other side says through the door.

  “No, it’s okay, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I push up out of the bed and fish around on the floor, finding my pink dress and pulling it over my head. I search for my boots, finding them near the closet and pull them up over my calves. I step into the bathroom and flinch when I see the damage I did last night. I hope Flint doesn’t hate me for losing it. I know he paid for the room on his credit card and that the hotel will charge him for my rampage.

  I’ll pay him back somehow.

  I splash water over my face and try to smooth my hair with my fingers. I’m a classic example of a morning after walk-of-shamer. Sighing, I decide it’s as good as it’s going to get and I let myself out of the hotel room, slipping past the housekeeping cart and taking the stairs down to the lobby.

  Outside, I squint at the sun glinting off the mirrored windows of the skyscrapers around me. I’m looking around for a bus stop when a man dressed in a long maroon coat and black pants with a sharp crease down the front approaches me. “Car, miss?” he asks.

  I’m normally more of a bus girl but then I remember the roll of bills in my pocket. I’m not going to keep all of Flint’s money, but I think I can manage to pay back a few dollars for a cab ride home. I glance at his nametag, “Sure thing. Thanks, Randy.” He smiles at me and lifts his arm while giving a piercing whistle. A spotless black car peels out of the line idling near the curb and pulls to a stop in front of us. Before I can reach the door, Randy has leaned over and opened it for me. I slide into the seat, the leather cool across the back of my legs, and settle in. Randy touches his brow and says “Have a good day, miss,” and shuts the door, tapping on the roof to let the driver know it’s okay to go. I stifle a smile. A girl could get used to being treated like this.

  The car pulls to a stop near my apartment and the driver jumps out and rushes around to open my door. I thank him and add a tip to his fare. This time of morning the street is empty of the hookers and drug dealers that usually populate the area. The security shutters are drawn at the bar below my rooms, and police tape flutters across the broken window from the fight that happened the night before. I know from experience the bar won’t stay closed long. The owners will just board the window up with plywood today and probably reopen again tonight.

  Now that I’m back in my neighborhood I don’t feel safe anymore. I feel like there are eyes on me, watching. I try to shake off the feeling. I look around but don’t see anyone. There’s a dark colored truck sitting at a stop sign a couple of blocks down. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I fish around for my keys and push quickly into the entry hall.

  The stairwell smells disgusting but that’s nothing new. I put my hand over my nose and mouth and dodge a puddle of something I don’t even want to look at. Who the fuck leaves this shit here and who knows how long it will be before someone comes to clean it up, if they ever do. I stop on the second-floor landing and look around again. I still feel like there are eyes on me. That's when I notice my door is open. I take a huge breath to steady my thudding heart and lace my keys between my fingers, brass knuckle style. Standing to one side I nudge the door open with my foot and peer inside.

  The place is a wreck. Someone has completely ransacked my room. My tiny table is upended, the ugly lamp in two pieces. My sofa pillows were scattered and the pull-out mattress has been slit down the middle with a knife. Tufts of padding billow out. I hear a wet plop from the bathroom.

  My heartbeat thuds in my ears and my vision blurs around the edges. I don’t want to cry because this place isn’t home, not really, but it’s the only place I’ve got. I cross over to the bathroom, trying to quiet my breathing, and kick the door open.

  There’s nothing there, just the shower dripping. The water makes a thick splash when it hits the tiles. I run back out into the other room and slam my door shut, shooting the security bolts home, hands shaking as I slide two security chains into place.

  I buckle to the floor then, all the adrenaline of the past minutes leaving me in a shivering puddle. I'm pretty sure I know who was in my room. This is what Donnie does. He finds me and plays with me first. Fucks with my head because he likes the chase. He wants me paranoid and panicky. It’s how he gets his sick kicks.

  Some people thrive on love.

  Donnie thrives on fear.

  I tug my phone out, fingers hovering over the buttons to call 911, but I don’t want to call the police. What will I tell them? That someone has broken into my apartment and I think I know who it is? I have no proof, and even if I did, I don’t want to poke the bear. Donnie is bad enough as it is without me getting the law onto him.

  I think back to the truck I saw on my way in. I cross the room and peer out the window. There's no truck outside now. Still, I can't take the chance or going out there by myself. The last time I tried to run, he caught me. I listen for the thud of boots in the corridor outside. Maybe he's in the building and is planning on bursting in here to take me with him again.

  I finger my pocket where Flint’s number is nestling along with the roll of bills. I could call him. I know he’d come and get me. It wasn’t in my plan, but I’m fucking scared. Too scared to leave my room. Too scared to face this by myself. For the first time in years I have people who I can turn to. People who Donnie knows nothing about.

  I know I’m going to put them in danger, but maybe, if I hide out for long enough, maybe Donnie will give up. He might thrive on the fear of others but I know the sight of my brothers would scare the
shit out of him. I take the paper out and look at the number. I can do this. Still, even with my sudden certainty, my fingers tremble as I punch in the numbers.

  23

  RAVEN HAS ENTERED THE CHATROOM

  Raven: You ever feel like there are ghosts around you?

  River: You’re in a mood tonight, aren’t you?

  Raven: I’m being serious, River.

  River: What’s wrong?

  Raven: Sometimes I feel like there are eyes on me, everywhere I go. It’s like I’m never alone.

  River: Some people find that comforting.

  Raven: Not like this. This isn’t a comforting…presence.

  River: Do you feel threatened?

  Raven: Sometimes, but it’s never a direct threat. It’s just a feeling.

  River: Sometimes it’s best not to ignore those feelings.

  Raven: I’m just spooked I think. Overthinking things.

  River: What can I do to help?

  Raven: You’re doing it.

  River: Are you somewhere safe at least?

  Raven: As safe as I’ll ever get, I suppose.

  River: Let me help you.

  Raven: You already are. I’m fine, River. I’m just, alone.

  River: I’ll stay right here with you all night if that what’s it takes to make you feel safe.

  Raven: You’re a kind man, River.

  River: I wouldn’t go that far.

  Raven: Name one thing you’ve done that’s wrong.

  River: I fell for you.

  Raven: Now you’re just making fun of me. Maybe you’re not one of the good guys.