FOSTER BROTHERS - A MFM Menage Romance

by Samantha Twinn

  River: I never said I was, baby.

  24

  FLINT

  I’m in the deepest sleep when I hear my phone ring. Missi. I don’t know how I know it's her, but I do. I pick it up and peer at the number displayed, then tap the green Accept button.

  "Missi?" I ask.

  "Flint," I hear her strangled voice say. "Flint, I…someone's been in my apartment, someone broke in."

  There’s real fear in her voice and my gut clenches with a rage that fucking hurts.

  "Can you…?” She trails off, her voice hitching. “Do you think you can come? To my place?”

  I jump up, put her on speaker phone and pull on the nearest pair of jeans I can lay my hands on.

  "You're alone now?" I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Stay there with the door locked.” I shove my feet into the boots by the door. “Do not go outside. Make sure the door is locked. Shove something up against it. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” I hear faintly. “Flint, hurry.”

  “Don't be scared, Missi. I'm coming for you.”

  I hang up the phone and bellow Hudson's name down the halls separating our rooms.

  “Hudson! Get your ass up.” I reach his room and beat on the door frame. "Hudson, move it now. Missi's in trouble. She needs us."

  Hudson jumps up and starts pulling on clothes from the pile near the end of the bed. “What happened?”

  “Someone broke into her place. I'll meet you out front.”

  I bolt down the stairs and grab my keys. I'm in the truck and pulling it up to the entrance of the house when Hudson barrels out and nearly collides with the SUV.

  He doesn't even have his door closed before I slam on the gas and careen down the drive.

  “How far away is she?” Hudson asks.

  I give him the address. “We'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “If you don't kill us in the process. Why the fuck is she living in such a shitty neighborhood? Why didn’t she stay at the hotel?”

  “I don't know. She didn't tell me…I get the feeling there's a lot she’s keeping to herself.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “The girl lives in a crappy one room apartment in the worst part of town because her landlord lets her pay cash. She’s got locks on the door that would put Fort Knox to shame. She sounded really scared on the phone, like petrified. Does it sound like everything’s on the level with her?”

  I glance over at him, watching him digest what I’ve told him. Hudson doesn’t look happy. Not one bit.

  The street signs flash by and I take the corners faster than I should, whipping around slower cars who lay on their horns fiercely.

  I come to a quick stop in front of the shuttered bar. Hudson is looking around the almost empty street, taking in the police tape fluttering against the window. I guess we’re just lucky there’s not a puddle of blood or a chalk outline on the sidewalk. There's a woman pushing a cart full of what looks like trash walking past us. When Hudson levers his way out of the truck she hurries off mumbling what sounds like voodoo curses under her breath.

  “There.” I point to the door covered in graffiti and dirt.

  Hudson pushes it open and steps inside. I'm right on his heels.

  “This is where she's living?”

  “Yep.” I shoulder my way upstairs, sidestepping a puddle of puke.

  I snort when I hear Hudson gag behind me. I already know what I want and that’s for Missi to come home with us. Every bit of decay, every evidence of crime, every piece of disgusting trash, and every foul smell can only work to my advantage when it comes to convincing Hudson that it’s the right thing to do. I know he’ll be appalled at the thought of letting Missi stay here.

  I turn when we reach the top of the stairs. "Listen, we can't leave her here. This place isn't safe, especially for a little bit of a girl like her. You didn’t see what went down out there last night. And now this break-in? She’s going to wind up getting hurt if she stays here.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he says. For a moment I’m happy, thinking he’s come around with so little persuasion, but then he continues. “I'm sure we could find her an apartment somewhere safe. Some place gated or with a doorman maybe.” My heart sinks.

  “I don't know…maybe. But not today.”

  I knock on Missi’s door and hear the sound of furniture scraping across the floor. Good girl, she listened. The sounds of disengaging locks echo down the hall and she finally pulls open the door. Hudson gestures toward the locks lining the door and cocks a questioning eyebrow.

  “I told you,” I mutter.

  Missi is standing there, face blotched, eyes red-rimmed and glittering. “Thanks,” she says softly.

  “No problem,” I say, and reach to brush her cheek with my fingertips.

  I hear Hudson cuss and look over Missi's head into the room behind her. Holy shit. The place has been torn to pieces.

  Hudson pushes past Missi, tensing when his arm brushes her shoulder, and stands in the middle of room, taking in the tiny space that he overfills with his bulk. I see his thoughts as he looks over the mess the intruders left behind and the shabbiness of the dingy apartment. A shout draws him to the window and he peers outside, shaking his head.

  I look down at Missi. “You okay?”

  She half nods yes and shrugs at the same time, chewing on her lower lip. Fresh tears well up in her eyes, now dark blue with fear. I see her start to shake again and pull her into my arms, fitting her slight frame snugly against my chest. She takes in a shaky, heaving breath.

  “Missi, do you have any idea who did this?”

  She steps back from me and looks around. “No.” She shakes her head.

  “You’re sure?” I ask again.

  She nods again, eyes sliding away from mine. I don't believe her. The fear I feel rolling off of her isn't just because of a simple break-in. Living in neighborhoods like this, it may not be the first time something like this has happened to her. Something else is going on.

  “Okay, get your stuff.”

  She blinks up at me. “I don't need to go back to a hotel, Flint…and I can't afford it. Oh.” She digs into her pocket and comes up with the roll of bills I left for her earlier. I see Hudson raise an eyebrow.

  “I can't take this.” She shoves it into my chest. “And I owe you forty dollars for the car service home. Plus tip.”

  “You're not going to a hotel.”

  Hudson's brows shoot up to his hairline.

  “Get all your things. You're coming home with us.”

  “I don't think…” Hudson starts.

  “There's no way I can go with you guys,” Missi says at the same time. “Let me call someone. I have a friend on the other side of town; she might let me crash on her couch.”

  I shake my head, "If she were that good a friend you'd have called her first. I'm not taking no as an answer…from either of you.” I pick up her backpack from last night. “Is this it? Anything else?”

  “I…fine.” She looks resigned as though all her protesting was just for show. I’m hoping it was, because I’m so happy that she’s back in our lives. Missi’s always been fiercely proud, even when she had nothing worth anything to be proud of. If she needs to pretend we’re dragging her out of here against her will then so be it.

  Hudson is across the room, still as far away from Missi as he can get, and he goes back to staring out of the window as though he doesn’t know what to say or where to look.

  “So, anything else?” I ask again.

  Missi moves around the room, opening up the small drawers on the table and then stepping into the bathroom. I hear her moving around inside before coming back out with a small box full of items. She opens a small cabinet and pulls out a few more things, packing them into the box. She empties the tiny closet of clothes, pulling them off hangers and shoving them into her backpack. Everything else fits into a black garbage bag she pulls from the bottom of her closet. It's over in
less than five minutes.

  “That's all,” she says, standing with her pitiful few belongings piled around her feet. I look at her sadly. I don’t know what’s happened to Missi to get her into this state, but I do know that only people who’ve learned to leave some place in a hurry can pack their entire house that fast.

  25

  Raven: What’s wrong with you, River?

  River: What do you mean?

  Raven: What’s wrong with you? You spend so much time here with just me to keep you company. You do things that look like you’ve got some commitment issues. So what’s wrong with you?

  River: Why does there have to be something wrong with me? Maybe I just enjoy basking in the joy of your company.

  Raven: Hey, I know sarcasm when I read it.

  River: Nice to know I don’t have to hold back.

  Raven: So? What is it? It doesn’t matter to me, whatever it is. We’re all imperfect. So, is it the way you look? Do you have scars? Are you ill?

  River: Yes.

  Raven: Which one?

  River: All of them. I’m ugly on the inside. My soul is scarred. My body is ill.

  Raven: Now you’re just playing with me.

  River: It’s the truth, little bird.

  Raven: I don’t know why I bother.

  River: You love it. You got anyone else to verbally spar with?

  Raven: No.

  River: That’s sad, cause I’m not exactly the worthiest of opponents.

  Raven: Can we get back to the question?

  River: Sure. I’ll try to answer for you.

  Raven: Truthfully please.

  River: As truthful as I can be.

  Raven: I’m waiting.

  River: Yes, there are things wrong with me. There are reasons I can’t make a commitment to anyone, reasons I can’t let anyone in, reasons I can’t let you get close.

  Raven: Are you going to tell me what those reasons are?

  River: No.

  Raven: What if I wanted to take the risk?

  River: I can’t let you do that.

  Raven: I’m not asking your permission.

  River: This conversation is over.

  Raven: Coward.

  RAVEN LEAVES THE CHATROOM

  26

  HUDSON

  Flint is driving, thankfully not as fast as before, and Missi is huddled and quiet in the backseat of the SUV. I'd offered her the front seat but she declined, climbing into the rear and snuggling down into the warmth of the heated leather.

  The silence in the car is deafening and I don’t know what it’s going to be like once we get Missi to the house. Where’s she gonna sleep and what am I going to say to her? I need to say something about what we did. I need to acknowledge it and let her know that it wasn’t intentional and that it won’t be happening again.

  Like she’d want that anyway.

  I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. My head is pounding. I know we can find her a nice apartment somewhere. She doesn’t have to stay with us long term. Maybe just a few days. Maybe I can keep to myself for that long.

  I'm watching the car eat up the miles, the signs flashing by, but I'm not really taking them in. Sooner than I realize, we're turning up the curving drive to our house.

  Flint puts the car in park and turns to half-face the back seat.

  "Listen, I know it seems a little…uncomfortable right now, but I think this is for the best. This is safest for Missi.” He nods at me. “We'll be fine. And it's a big house, there's plenty of room for all of us to be there.” He looks at Missi. “Everything’s going to be okay now. You’re safe with us.”

  Then he's out and around the car, opening the door for her and leading her up the steps. He’s taking my role and I’m glad, because this is the way it needs to be, but it cuts me up too.

  I follow behind, keeping my distance, watching as he guides her up the stairs with a possessive hand on the small of her back. That small touch sends a jealous spark through me that I don’t like or understand. Flint is Missi’s brother too.

  When they reach the top he leads her left, towards my room. I take the stairs two at a time and slam my hand onto Flint's shoulder when I catch up with them in hall.

  "Where you going, man?" I ask.

  “Uh...” Flint points to the door across the hall from mine.

  "There are five other bedrooms in this house…pick one of those."

  Missi’s face drops like I just slapped her. Shit.

  “That room,” Flint points down the hall at the room next to his, “is for Red's use when he's here. He's already got his things in there. We have two more with no furniture because you decided to renovate and haven't gotten around to having the contractor finish up. And the other two are on the far side of the house. I just figured Missi would feel safer up here with us.”

  I feel my nostrils flare. Missi takes a step back, moving closer to Flint. I must look like a pissed off bull to her. I must be scaring the shit out of her. It’s not my intention. I don’t want her to be scared of me, but I feel scared of myself right now.

  “Fine,” I snap.

  “Here, show her in then. I'm going to go grab her things.”

  And with that Flint has left me alone with Missi for the first time since I brought her home from the club and fucked her senseless.

  She's standing there, looking up at me with those seawater eyes, colors shifting from blue to green and back again in the light. God, she's a beautiful little thing. So tiny, so adorable, so vulnerable looking. I feel my cock tighten and turn quickly away, shoving the door open so roughly that it bounces against the wall with a thud.

  “So, here you go,” I say, ushering her in with a wave, stepping back so she doesn't brush against me when she enters. I catch a waft of her fragrance as she passes and I want to lean in, to breathe deeply, to remember the way her skin smells. I want her close enough to feel the heat from her, and I repulse myself with these thoughts.

  She's in the center of the room, not moving, her hands clasped in front of her so tightly her knuckles have whitened.

  I clear my throat. “Bathroom,” I point to one door then another, “closet.” I can hear how clipped my words sound but I'm just trying to maintain some fucking composure here.

  I move past her to the double hung doors on the far side. "There's a balcony,” I push the doors open, "view of…” I wave my hand towards the mountains in the distance, the pool glimmering under the noon sun.

  When I turn, she's still staring at me. I want to say something, anything to make it better but I'm afraid of what will come out if I open my mouth. Her eyes are shining and I see her trying to keep her emotions steady. I continue my ten-cent tour.

  “We have a housekeeper who comes a few times a week. She'll change your sheets. There are extra blankets and pillows there.” I point to a chest in the corner. “And there's soap, shampoo and toothpaste already in the bathroom if you need that stuff. We can, I mean Flint, can take you…"

  “Hudson,” she interrupts.

  “…to get anything else you…”

  “Hudson.”

  “…need. What?”

  “I'm sorry,” she says quietly.

  I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth around. Why is she apologizing to me?

  “I didn't know. I didn't know it was you. I never would have…you have to know that. You do know that, right? And I'm so, so sorry. Please don't be angry with me. I don't think I can stand it.” Her voice hitches. "I can't stand it if you're angry with me, so let's just be okay. It's done, it can't be changed.” She gives the smallest of sobs and I see tears tracking down her pink cheeks.

  Why can't I say anything to make her feel better? Flint is good at this shit, this consoling thing. He'd pick her up in a big bear hug and she'd laugh and everything would be fine and then they'd go have ice cream or something ridiculous. All I can do is stand here staring at my little rebel Tink. Is she my Tink, though? What am I to her? Not her brother, certainly not anymore. And I can't be her lov
er with the past we share. So what does that make us? What do I want us to be to each other?

  She's crossed the room and I feel her fingers drift lightly over my arm, giving me the slightest of squeezes and resting her hand there lightly, trying to see what I'll do. And I pull away because that one touch is all it takes to make my cock stir and to bring memories rushing back of the way she tasted on my fingers and the sweet, low moans she breathed into my ear as she came and came around my dick. My cock jerks just thinking about it. Her blonde hair stirs when the air from the opened balcony door drifts through.

  She smells like the wild strawberries we used to eat from the edge of the school field.

  Her hair is the still the same color it was when she was a child.

  What the fuck!! What the actual fuck is wrong with me? I feel sick to my stomach now, picturing her as a little kid, running around barefoot in the backyard, thinking about holding her in my arms when she was just a baby.

  I shouldn't even be near her when I’m capable of thinking and feeling these things. My arms ache to hold her, but why? For comfort or to pull her close so I can feel her curves. I'm one sick fucking bastard.

  I put up a hand between us and turn, walking away and leaving her in the middle of her room, looking confused and scared. I hate leaving her like this but I don’t see another way. I have to get away from her before I do or say something we’re both going to regret.

  I don't look back, even when I hear her call my name. I take the stairs two at a time and stride out the front door, needing to get away from the biggest mistake I ever made.

  27

  FLINT

  Hudson's phone shunts me to voicemail again. With an aggravated huff I thumb off my phone and toss it onto the low table in front of the sofa. My brother is acting like a real asshole and it’s pissing me off. What kind of man disappears when the shit gets tough? I think about everything that’s happened to him and I do feel sympathy. It isn’t an easy thing to face. If I was in his position, I’d be tempted to take off. But I’m not sure I would, with Missi so vulnerable. Then again, he has a whole load of other stuff going on in his head that I can’t even imagine having to deal with.