Honey Red (29 page)

He grabbed Brutus and tried to shoulder past them, but Ian held onto him. “How pregnant are you Hannah?” he kept his voice light but he was seeing red around the edges of his vision and knew he had to keep a grip on his temper lest he make this worse than it already was.

“Enough to know, thanks.” She crossed her arms.

“Good, I’ll drive you to the clinic. Get in the car.”

Nick grabbed his arms and shoved him hard, making the back of his skull connect with a bookshelf. “
You
do not get to decide that.” His voice was low, a warning Ian chose to ignore. He pushed the man off him, making the mistake of thinking Nick wouldn’t lash out. Big mistake. Pain exploded in his jaw, then his gut when carefully placed punches thrown by a trained killing machine landed precisely where they were aimed. He grabbed Nick’s arm when the man hauled back to do it again. Ian was no slouch and was bigger.

“You guys are pitiful,” Hannah spit out. “Can’t keep your stupid hands or cocks off each other, fucking or fighting. Jesus.” Ian held tight to Nick’s arm, felt the man’s rage just under the surface. Brutus had Nick’s other hand in his huge mouth, trying to tug him out of what must appear to be a very dangerous situation for his master. “I don’t need your god damned ride, Donovan. I can drive myself to get an abortion, thanks. And you,” she glared at Nick who turned his face to her. “You should ask him about his rules sometime. About how we share but only if we’re all together, as in the same space. He used you today, Nick. Sorry to break that to you.” She whirled and Ian let go of Nick’s hand taking a chance the guy would not try to hit him again. He grabbed Hannah’s arms, but she shook him off.

“Fuck you Ian Donovan. Fuck you and your “sex only for now” bullshit. I’m done. I’ll be taking a couple of days off for the abortion.” Ian winced as she repeated the harsh word and sensed Nick’s temper about to burst over them both. “But this whole experiment,” she made a circle with her finger indicating the three of them, “is finished.”

Nick gasped and tried to pull her to him. “No, wait, Hannah, don’t.”

Ian gaped at them both. “You guys have got to be kidding me.” He let the fury fuel him and the words tumbled out, burying him even deeper. “This is not what we are about. We are a threesome for sex. That’s all I want. That’s what I thought you wanted, but, obviously, I was wrong. In case you forgot, I have a family already, one I didn’t expect, but it’s all I need.” He let go of Hannah’s arm and stepped back. They both stared at him, or at least appeared to, making his heart leap into his throat, regret making his temples pound. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way….” He whispered, meaning it but knowing it was too late. He had not meant anything more than the fact that adding another child to the mix would only complicate everyone’s lives.
But, boy, did you just sound like a selfish motherfucker.
He groaned and touched his aching jaw.

Hannah ran out, slamming the door behind her. Nick stalked out of the room, but turned before he went into his office. “Get out of my house. Get out of my life. I’ll be at Alyssa’s tonight, so I don’t want you to be there. I mean it Ian,” he held up a hand as if sensing the steps Ian was taking to him, to hold him, apologize, fix it. “We are done.” Then he shut the office door with a firm, quiet click, which in many ways was even more final than the slamming front door.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The hell was back. The headaches, sensory overload, throat-closing dread and the deep darkness of his reality closed in on him as Nick sat at his computer, ignoring the worried noises from his dog and the pinging of incoming emails. His phone rang—Jake’s ring tone. He ignored it. He had done the dumbest possible thing. Been untrue to his nature, fallen for a woman, while being manipulated by a man to suit his own selfish pleasure. He stood, nervous, needing forward motion. By the time he walked out of the office and into the kitchen, he realized he had not eaten all day and decided to find food to help some of the churning in his gut.

Brutus was excellent at guiding him around to the various areas of the kitchen so he could function on his own. He could even cook some things alone, as the dog would bark when necessary and the stove had a loud timer he’d retrofitted with a Braille control panel. He put a pot of water on for noodles, grabbed two beers from the fridge and downed them while sitting at the table, brooding.

He would not let Hannah do this. While part of him loved the thought of a baby—his baby—the practical part of him knew that was stupid, lame. He had no business being a father, or so he kept telling himself. It was her body. She should and would do whatever she wanted about it. He got another beer, grateful that Brutus would let him know when the water boiled, but a third beer, plus all the emotion of the past hours or two made his eyes droop. The table’s cool surface felt good on his hot face. He drifted off, knowing he’d meet Dan in his dreams. And he did.

The dog’s frantic barking woke him. That and his lungs’ urgent need for air in the smoky kitchen. He fell to the floor, sensing the heat from a fire that must be slowly engulfing the counter nearest the stove. The harsh smell of burning wood and plastic made him gag. He felt mired in lethargy, as if he were drugged but kept coughing, unable to move. The last fire surrounded him again. His eyes burned, pain from his broken leg made him grunt and grab it, only to find it healed. He heard noise, yelling, gunshots. His head pounded as his lungs tried to suck in clean air only to find it full of poisonous smoke.

Something grabbed his hand, something sharp. He fell onto his back, as the world narrowed to a tiny pinprick, and he heard him—Dan—calling for him crying out his name. A baby was shrieking. He tried to roll over and get to his hands and knees but couldn’t. “Hannah!” he yelled, but it came out a weak whisper. “Hannah, don’t…” he wanted to cry but his ruined eyes wouldn’t allow it. His face was wet from something. He touched it, tasted salt on his fingertips and then he couldn’t hear or feel anything else. But the baby…it kept crying.

“Hey, hold this one, will ya?” Alyssa poked his shoulder and Nick held out his hands for a nephew, loving the baby smell that permeated him. “He’s fed, but won’t go to sleep. Work your Uncle magic.”

He coughed, his lungs still recovering from the searing kitchen fire that ruined half his house. The little boy snuffled around, making mewling sounds. Nick kissed him. “Settle down, little man. Give your mom a break.” Tyler had come home finally but was still on a monitor twenty-four hours a day, and Alyssa absolutely refused to leave him on his own. Especially after one scare that sent them back to the hospital for an overnight in a small oxygen tent. So, the household took turns being awake with him. Nick didn’t mind. He loved it. Frankly, the sensation of his nephews in his arms was the single thing that allowed him to feel normal by grounding him in a tiny bit of sanity and keeping him from doing something permanent about his misery.

He had steadfastly refused to let Ian or Hannah near him. Mortified for being so supremely irresponsible as to set the fucking house on fire like some kind of invalid he was grateful all the computers and servers had survived. The fire department had been able to contain the blaze to the back corner of the house. But, of course, he couldn’t live there anymore. He palmed the baby’s back, shifted down on the couch so the boy was nearly horizontal on his chest. He kept patting, soothing, both Tyler and himself. He stayed awake per Alyssa’s orders but let his thoughts drift while the infant rooted around before he fell asleep.

He wondered how Hannah was, if she’d recovered from her procedure, if Ian had made the Honey Red beer, and whether he’d ever retrieve that magical, connected feeling he got when he was with them both. Something was pulling at him, making him want to be up and out of here, on his own again. While that seemed right, healthy, it also terrified him at the same time. Alyssa put a hand on his cheek. “Sleep, Nick. I’ll sit here and feed Lucas. The boys are around so if his alarm goes off somebody will hear it.”

Nick nodded, groggy from lack of sleep. He still didn’t have a handle on Gavin’s other twins but they seemed to be getting used to him now that he lived in their house. One of them, Nathan, had started reading to him the day he showed up from the hospital, burns on his hands, his lungs still weak, and alone once again. He was enjoying the Harry Potter books, but actually liked talking with the kid. He was a quiet, very smart boy, while his brother Alex was loud, showy and best Nick could tell an asshole in training.

He let sleep take him. And entered the dark, quiet place where even Dan had abandoned him.

Hannah sat on the hard plastic chair and filled out the medical forms—she had no allergies, no heart murmur, asthma, religious objections to blood transfusions; all very innocuous, as if she were there for a checkup. Her hands shook. Telling the receptionist she had a friend coming later to pick her up, she mentally concocted an excuse for the phantom friend. How hard could it be? She’d refused to tell her mother, knowing how that conversation would end.

The waiting room was like a cold storage unit. She rubbed her arms and turned in the forms, smiling weakly at the perky girl behind the desk, and ignored the rest of the women sitting around the room. She clutched her hands, pretended she was doing the right thing, making her choice as a strong, independent woman. A woman with no husband or even boyfriend to help her out, a job she wanted to keep, and zero support otherwise.

 “Hannah?” A nurse appeared at the door, her smile so wide Hannah winced. Jesus, these people could at least act sad. This was sad. This was bullshit. She was about to…she shook her head and followed the woman down a sterile hall. She sat, got her vitals taken, had to endure a painful, boilerplate counseling session. “No, I don’t feel okay about this. No I don’t really want to be here. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, can we please just get the fuck on with it?” words she didn’t say, but thought, loudly in her head.

“Okay, Hannah,” the perky nurse was back, grinning at her as if they were buddies about to have a girl’s night on the town. “Get changed here, then I’ll be putting the IV in to give you something to help you relax. The whole procedure only takes a few minutes. I don’t see your friend yet though. You should call and check on them before we give you any meds.”

The door shut. Hannah sat. Unshed tears clogged her throat. Of all the tears she’d allowed herself while with her men—tears of joy brought on by tapping deep wells of emotion she’d forgotten she possessed, it seemed they’d dried up since catching Nick and Ian alone, fucking, when she’d come over to tell them the truth. Memories of Nick, his beautiful green eyes, his words, his body and soul overwhelmed her, making her clench her eyes shut.

And Ian, his brutally handsome, but angry face, harsh words about their sex only arrangement, the first time they’d had sex…made love…when he’d been so gentle and loving. The men, at each other’s throats, the poor dog trying to break it up.
Hannah Williams, you are a fool. Get this done. Get back to your life, and leave all that shit behind.
She’d contacted the head hunter again, determined to get the fuck out of Ian’s orbit for good, hoping she could escape by leaving Ypsi Brewing altogether.

She clutched the generic hospital gown, stared at her hands. Then stood, looking out onto the busy parking lot. Nick’s voice that time, on the kitchen table ghosted through her brain. When she knew damn good and well she had no diaphragm in and had taken him. She clenched her jaw, gripped the curtains and let a rogue tear drip down her cheek before brushing it away.

 She had not spoken to either man since rushing to the hospital the night of the house fire to make sure Nick was okay. He wouldn’t talk to her anyway. Alyssa claimed he was embarrassed, thinking everyone would assume he’d try to kill himself again. But it had been an accident. She’d kissed his cheek and left the hospital room, unsaid words making her throat ache. Ian snagged her on the way to the elevator, his eyes wild with worry. “He’s fine.” She said, unwilling to engage in conversation beyond the basics.