Between Us (The Renegade Saints #3) (16 page)

“Hey,” she says from behind me.

Damn. I’m so freaked out I didn’t even hear her coming out of the bathroom. Great. Now my senses are all fucked up, too. Taking a deep breath, I push myself back from the door to turn and face her. No matter what, I’m not going to fuck this up with her, but she’s going to need to know that last night was a one-time thing. We’re not having sex without our third in place. It just can’t happen.

“Morning,” I answer, making sure to smile as I do.

“Can I, um… borrow some sweatpants? I’d wear my dress but the idea of putting on the underwear I wore yesterday is repellant. I took this T-shirt last night without asking,” she says as she gestures down to what she has on, “but I don’t want to paw through your drawers without permission.”

I force down my Neanderthal reaction to how much I like her in my clothes.

“Never worry about stuff like that with me,” I assure her. “Paw away and take whatever you want. Here, I’ll show you where the sweats section is.”

As I step forward, I take her elbow to guide her to the closet. Touching her brings a rush of memories back to the surface. My tongue on her clit, her hands fisted in my hair, the way her thighs felt as they squeezed around me. I’ve wanted to touch and taste her for weeks—and even now, after having done so, I want her just as desperately as I did before I ever set a hand on her. If I’m honest, I have to admit I want her more. I can’t lose her, but I need to find a safer way forward.

We enter the kitchen and find Ian seated at the counter. He’s got a steaming mug of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese in front of him, along with a yogurt and some fruit. Since I’m not a fan of cooking, meals around here are always quick and easy to put together.

I head for the coffee like it’s a pot of gold. Grabbing one of my enormous mugs from the cabinet, I fill it up before adding cream and two sugars. Instead of making anything else, I grab a muffin from the display on the counter. Devon busies herself putting together her own coffee and choosing what to eat. Once she’s settled on a yogurt and a croissant, the two of us sit down at the counter with Ian. I figure it’s best to just get last night out of the way early, so he doesn’t have to sit here and be uncomfortable.

“How’re you feeling today?” I ask. “Any hangover?”

He shakes his head as he sets his bagel down.

“Other than feeling like an asshole, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t an asshole,” Devon assures him.

“No worries,” I say. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Not sure if it is, but it can’t hurt to say it, right?

“Listen,” he mumbles. The rest of what he says is lost because it’s basically said at whisper level.

I raise an eyebrow at him as Devon leans in to hear him.

“Can’t hear you,” I say.

Ian shakes his head as he clears his throat.

“I heard you last night,” he says. “In your bedroom.”

I drop my hands from the counter and into my lap, in order not to draw attention to how they just balled into fists. I hate that he heard her. More than that, I’m scared of
why
I hate it so much. I’m the least territorial motherfucker on earth. Normally. What is happening to me? When he doesn’t immediately follow his statement up with anything else, I know I’m going to need to prod him.

My jaw ticks as I stare at him. “And?”

“I’m not ready now,” he admits, “but I think I will be. I want to… try with you both. I’d like to ask you to wait.”

His words hang out there like brass rings I know I’m supposed to grab. But deep down, I don’t want to. The idea of sharing is suddenly abhorrent. I turn to Devon to gauge her reaction. Her eyes are wide and she looks completely shocked—but the fact that she isn’t saying anything tells its own story. I get the feeling she wants me to be the one to answer him.

My brain rushes around in a thousand different directions. She and I, we need a third. Period. But the very thought of Ian touching her makes me jealous and angry. Maybe it’s just Ian who gets my hackles up that way. Or, maybe I’m a complete pussy who’s getting in too deep with her. I’m saved from having to answer immediately by the ringing of the house phone. Never have I been so glad to hear it. Almost no one has this phone number, so I know it’s either a family or band member. Leaving my stool, I head to the counter and pick up the cordless phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Baby Boy.”

“Hey Mom,” I laugh. I could be ninety and she would still call me her baby boy.

“Honey, something is up over at Todd’s. Sylvia just called and asked for us all to come over as soon as possible.”

My heart starts pounding funny in my chest.

“Like an emergency?”

“Not a bad one,” Mom assures me. “I specifically asked Sylvia if everything was okay and she said we shouldn’t worry. All she’d really say is that it’s family business and they want us there.”

“Is Flynn there already?”

“Mm-hm. In fact, your father says he’s almost certain Flynn slept there last night.”

I’m grabbing my keys from the bowl on the counter before she even finishes her sentence. If Flynn spent the night at his dad’s, something is up.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I assure her.

“Drive safely, Speed Racer,” she admonishes. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

As soon as I hang up, I turn to Devon and Ian. “Sorry to do this, but I have to go. Take your time eating. You can hang around the house and chill out if you want to. My assistant is around somewhere—probably in his office—so just let him know when you go so he can lock up. I’ll catch up with you both later, okay?”

“Is everything okay?” Devon asks.

“I hope so,” I answer honestly. “I’ll let you know once I know.”

I want to hug her—so I go for it. For a few seconds, I allow myself to pull her into my arms so I can feel her against me. I’d stay forever, but I need to get to my family. After dropping a kiss on her lips, I turn to Ian. Since I’m not about to hug him, I shake his hand.

“Like I said, make yourselves at home—don’t feel like you need to rush out. I’ll be in touch.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I turn and haul ass toward the garage.

When my parents and I walked into Todd’s house and I saw his face, I was immediately transported back to the months following Rachel’s passing. Even the spot he was sitting in—the sofa under the front window—was a reminder. Yes, the furniture had changed several times over the years, but the bones of the house were the same, which made it easier for the memories to come.

In a million years, I never would have expected him to say it seemed highly probable that he’d fathered a set of twins not long after Rachel died. I got why he turned to sex, and I didn’t blame him one bit. But the reminder of how far off the rails he’d gone back then and how close we’d come to losing him, too, freaked me the fuck out.

Not surprisingly, everyone was taking it well. My parents were excited that Todd might have daughters who had already indicated they wanted to meet him if the DNA tests came back a match. Gram was basically over the moon with the idea of having two more grandchildren, which meant Pop was happy about it too. And Flynn—well, he was far more pumped about the possibility of having sisters than I would have expected.

The problem was Todd. As excited as he was about the prospect of knowing his daughters—if they were definitely his—he was beside himself because he hadn’t known about them for all of these years. It left him all over the place emotionally and he was hammering away at himself for being a failure as a father. No matter what any of us said, all he could see was how much damage he’d done to himself, to his son, and possibly to his daughters, because he hadn’t been able to deal with Rachel dying.

It wasn’t an issue we could just gloss over and make better for him, unfortunately. Flynn was fine, as was the rest of the family, but Todd had been told that the girls hadn’t had an easy upbringing, which was a tough pill to swallow. Knowing that made it impossible for him not to blame himself. It hurt like a motherfucker to see him so upset.

I managed to stay in the moment to be there for Todd, for Flynn, and for Gram and Pop the entire time I was there—which was almost ten hours. But when I left that night, I made it two blocks down the street before I had to pull over due to the panic attack I was having.

Somewhere in the midst of panicking, I decided it was probably partially attributable to having been with Devon alone. I’d broken the rules and was being reminded of what happened when you allowed yourself to become vulnerable. There, on a side street in the neighborhood I’d grown up in, I sent a group text to Devon and Ian.

Me: Ian, we will wait for you. The 3 of us can be something great.

Devon: Um, is everything ok with ur family?

Me: Everything is going 2 b fine. I will explain soon

Ian: That’s great about your family

Me: I have 2 go but I will b in touch in a day or 2

Devon: Please call me if you need anything

Me: I will. Thank you Devon. I appreciate it

“A
ny word from the amazing tongue?”

Looking up from the video I’m editing on my computer, I roll my eyes at Lana.

“He texted earlier. We’re going out to dinner tonight with Ian. And stop calling him that. It’s embarrassing.”

Completely ignoring my no asses on my desk rule, she perches on the edge. She keeps her eyes on me as she peels an orange, discarding pieces of peel in the trashcan next to the desk.

“Did you or did you not tell me his tongue should be dipped in gold?”

“Uh,” I grouse. “Yes, I did say that. But—”

“But nothing,” she says dismissively. “He’s the amazing tongue now. At least, until he slips you the D. Then we can rethink the name.”

Before I can argue, she pushes an orange slice into my mouth. I hum appreciatively as the juice slides over my tongue.

“Where’s dinner tonight?”

After swallowing the orange, I answer, “We’re going to a steak place in West Hollywood.”

Lana’s lips curve into a smile. “So,” she drawls, “this is like a date, date. You planning to say anything to him about you not being so sure you want to do Ian?”

“I’m not sure it’s open for debate,” I answer honestly.