Though they reluctantly pulled away from her to let the medical personnel take her to a makeshift triage area they had set up, they watched her like a hawk.
“Mike Zahn was just picked up,” Officer Joe told them. “And he’s admitted to the near hit-and-run and this.”
“So it’s over?” Ash asked.
“Yeah, you can take her home tonight. But she’ll probably have nightmares for a while.”
“Yeah,” Keaton murmured. “But we’ll be there from now on to protect her.”
* * * *
Late that night, they lay together in bed, their bodies slick with sweat and their hearts racing in the afterglow of lovemaking. She lay curled up against Keaton’s side with Ash spooning in behind her, his leg thrown over both of theirs.
A lamp was on in the corner of the room, casting a light glow in the darkness of the room.
“I’ve changed my mind about being buried,” she said suddenly.
“What?” Keaton asked tiredly.
“I don’t ever want to be buried again,” she replied. “Not even when I’m dead.”
“Shh,” Ash shushed. “Don’t ever speak about dying. We’ve got sixty or seventy years before we need to think about that.”
“We’re going to be together in sixty or seventy years?” Momo asked.
“Of course we will. I love you, both of you. My life, my music, doesn’t mean anything without you two.”
She looked at him. “Really?”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“Well, I know you love Keaton but—”
“But I love you, too,” he said, interrupting her.
They shared a kiss that was full of emotion and promise.
She snuggled back into Keaton and Ash, loving how she felt safe and warm between them. Their bodies curved naturally together, three distinct notes loving harmoniously. Lulled by the gentle rhythm of their breathing serenading her, she fell asleep.
THE END
www.bethdcarter.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am a full-time writer and stay-at-home mom which means I watch a lot of Pixar films. Over and over and over again. I hate washing dishes but I love cooking. I hate washing clothes but I love wearing them. I try to write characters who aren't cookie cutters, ones who are full of angst but where love redeems them. I push myself to write complicated situations that I have no idea how to resolve, forcing me to think outside the box. Music inspires me as do the boats and arguing seals in the marina where I live. I hate people who don't pick up their dog's crap in public places and I really hate people who are rude and condescending. I especially hate discrimination in all and every form. The perfect birthday presents are gift certificates to bookstores. And I love to hear from readers. I’m really easy to find on Facebook or Twitter.
Also by Beth D. Carter
Ménage Amour: The Scarlet Dove
Ménage Amour: Lawless Hearts
BookStrand Mainstream: An Innocent Heart
Siren Classic: Black Leather Pants
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
In a Chord (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 10