TWENTY-SIX
Colby sat on a chair in Georgia’s living room, listening to her story and fighting the urge to scoop her up and hold her in his lap while she told it—buffer her somehow from the memories. She wasn’t crying anymore. After letting him and Keats inside and getting through a wash of tears, Georgia had left them briefly to wash her face and get some water. When she’d returned, she’d been composed again except for the telltale puffiness around her eyes. Emotions tucked back under the bed.
Colby understood why Georgia felt the need to wear that kind of armor, but he wished she felt safe enough to be vulnerable in front of him. No one was here to judge her on how tough she was. But despite her current stoicism, he knew it was a huge leap of trust that she was telling them her story.
She tucked her hands in her lap, her thumb rubbing the center of her palm. “I dated Phillip for a year. He seemed like a great guy. There for me after my friend Tyson’s death, understanding, supportive. Our connection felt comfortable and familiar. He was smart and successful, good-looking. He seemed to almost worship me like I was on some pedestal. Doted on me. Spoiled me. Always bringing me little gifts and going out of his way to do nice things for me. I loved that. I know that probably sounds self-centered and stupid.”
“Not at all,” Colby said, keeping his voice quiet so as not to startle her out of sharing this with them. “No one is going to fault anyone for wanting to feel cherished.”
“Looking back, I realize now that he knew exactly what buttons needed pushing for me. I was getting older. My friends were getting married and starting families. I hadn’t dated anyone seriously for a while, and I was getting that itch for something more long-term, getting those white-picket-fence fantasies. Tyson hadn’t been up for that, and really, we were better suited as friends, anyway. But once he was gone, Phillip could step in and fill that need I had by lavishing me with all the romance, courting me with gifts, trips, giving me all of his free time, talking about our future like it was an inevitable conclusion. It was hard not to fall into. But it was an acquisitions game for him, and I was simply the target. He wasn’t going to settle for anything less than complete possession.”
Colby’s neck prickled. He had a feeling this guy’s ideas of possession had no relation to the sexy kind in his world.
“At first, it was heady to be at the center of all that attention. That’s what women are supposed to want, right? The guy who only has eyes for you. But then he started to do things that weren’t so romantic, like make negative comments about my close friends or plan things so that it made it hard for me to spend time with them. His jealousy went from sweet and amusing to irrational over the course of the year we dated. By the end, pretty much any guy I came in contact with became a suspect in his mind. He’d swear he trusted me but not them. I’d had friends in abusive relationships and saw the signs heading that way, so I broke it off.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t take that well,” Keats said, his tone gentle but his eyes flickering with barely banked anger.
Colby knew the feeling. The thought of anyone hurting Georgia, of making her this fearful, sent murderous thoughts running through his head.
Georgia rubbed her lips together and shook her head. “No, he became obsessed, relentless. A creepy stalker right out of one of my novels. I hoped it would pass. I talked to the police, ignored the behavior, didn’t encourage him. All the things everyone had advised me to do. I started dating again, hoping that would send a clear message that I wasn’t coming back. But then . . .” She paused to take a shaky breath. “That just sent him over the cliff.”
Colby couldn’t stop himself this time. He moved from the chair to sit next to Georgia on the couch. He didn’t try to touch her but stretched his arm over the back of the couch. To his surprise, she scooted closer to him and leaned in. His arm went around her. “If this is too hard . . .”
“No,” she said with a little head shake. “Maybe it’s good I get it all out.”
Keats leaned forward and put a hand on her knee. “Go ahead, George. We’re listening.”
She didn’t speak for a few seconds but then seemed to gather her strength again. And when she told them the rest of the story—Tyson’s car accident, her almost-rape, her sister’s murder—Colby went cold all over, rage like an icy river running through him.
“He didn’t want to kill me because in his twisted mind, we were still meant to be together. But he wasn’t above hurting everyone around me to get to me. He took everything from me. And didn’t leave a bit of evidence behind.”
“Jesus,” Keats breathed. “George, I can’t even—please tell us he’s locked up.”
She lifted her gaze to him. “He’s out on bail in Chicago but can’t leave the state. No one except the legal team and my therapist knows where I am. I’m supposed to testify in January. I’m the key witness since I’m the one who saw his erratic behavior up close. And I’m the one who talked to my sister every day and can vouch that she was in no way depressed or suicidal. I’m the one who can tell them about that day in the kitchen and the threats he made. Without my testimony, they don’t think they have enough to get a murder conviction. And here I am, the girl who can’t even cross the street without panicking.”
Colby rubbed her chilled arm. “Baby . . .”
She sat up, her shoulders stiffening, before he could say any more. “God, it sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”
Keats frowned. “Of course it doesn’t. You had a murderer after you. You lost people you loved. No one would blame you for being scared.”
But there was a fierceness morphing Georgia’s expression as Keats spoke. She stood. “Don’t give me an out, Keats.”
Keats’s eyebrows raised. “I was just—”
“Raleigh fucking died. Tyson died. Because of me. And here I am like some damn mouse hiding in the basement.” She paced across the floor, then turned to face both of them. “This isn’t what my sister would’ve done. She would be on the steps of the courthouse, shouting into the microphones and demanding justice. She would be fighting.”
“You are fighting,” Colby said. “Every damn day. Sometimes our bodies and brains don’t cooperate like we want, but I don’t see a woman giving up.”
She shook her head, her eyes wet again, but not in defeat—in frustration and anger. “No. I’m not fighting. I’m only surviving. That’s not good enough. I broke a mug in my kitchen today and freaked out. That—something as stupid and simple as that—should not control me.”
She stalked over to the coffee table and lifted the glass of water she’d been drinking.
“George—”
But her arm was already in motion. She tossed the glass against the wall, where it shattered into glittering wet shards. She bent over, hands to her knees, breathing hard.
Colby went to her side, and Keats jumped up from the couch. Keats disappeared into the kitchen, probably to get something to clean up the mess, and Colby wrapped his arms around her.
“Ready to call the men in white coats yet?” she quipped.
The comment brought a little smile with it, and relief coursed through him. She was upset but not panicking.
Keats was back in a flash, but instead of a rag, he had a tray full of coffee cups. “Come on, George. Let’s not do this halfway.”
She lifted her head. “What?”
He set down the tray and handed her two mugs. “Fuck these mugs. They’re nothing but colored sand. They don’t mean anything. They can’t hurt you.”
Colby stared at Keats as Keats lifted one of the mugs and launched it against the same wall Georgia had used for target practice. It hit with a thud, then broke when it hit the wood floor.
Georgia blinked, glanced between the two of them.
“See?” Keats said. “Nothing. Take that sound back. Breaking glass isn’t about the past. It’s about right now when you and your insane, but devastatingly handsome, neighbors completely demolished your coffee cup collection for shits and giggles.”
“You’re nuts,” she said, but there was light in her eyes.
“Yeah, he is,” Colby agreed, taking a cup from Keats. “And a genius.” Colby sent a cup flying. It shattered on impact, the simple act of destruction sending an odd zing of satisfaction through him. “Ahh, that’s definitely what I wanted to do when the principal put me on leave.”
Keats threw another. “And that’s what I wanted to do to Hank when he broke into my place.”
Georgia tossed one of her cups with more strength than Colby would’ve suspected she had in her. “And that’s for every time this damn fear has kept me in the house.”
Keats cheered and handed her another. Before long, they’d gone through most of Georgia’s set, Georgia doing most of the tosses. And she wasn’t crying anymore; she was laughing. They all were.
As Georgia launched the last mug, Colby reached out and grabbed the back of Keats’s neck, giving it a squeeze. He looked over at Colby, his gaze questioning. Colby leaned close to his ear. “Good job, Adam.”
Keats’s eyes warmed in a way that Colby knew he’d never get tired of. Hell, he’d still been shocked to wake up this morning and find that the former straight guy he’d sent to bed sticky and used had woken up without regrets. Keats had shuffled into the kitchen, looking fucking edible with his mussed hair and loose pajama bottoms, and had walked straight up to Colby and said, “I woke up smelling like you.”
“And?” Colby had asked, expecting the ax to come down.
“And it took everything I had not to jerk off.” Then Keats had kissed him.
Colby’s chest had filled with some feeling he couldn’t pin down, and he hadn’t been able to stanch his need to touch Keats again. He’d pushed Keats’s pants down and off, then used them to bind his wrists to the handle of the fridge. He’d then sat down and eaten his breakfast while he watched Keats stand there naked and hard. After Colby had eaten his last bite, he’d stripped, grabbed a bottle of olive oil, and jerked them both off, cock against cock. They’d both been weak-kneed and recovering when the texts had come through from Georgia.
Colby had read them aloud, and Keats had switched from obedient, willing submissive to man on a mission in two seconds flat. He’d pulled off the bindings and yanked up his pants. “Get in the shower and be quick. We’re going over there.”
Colby hadn’t corrected him on the sudden order. He’d wanted to get to Georgia as soon as possible, too. So they’d jumped in their respective showers and gotten ready in record time. Colby had at first insisted he go over alone so that they didn’t overwhelm her. But Keats had refused outright. Now Colby was glad he hadn’t wasted any time fighting that battle. Because Georgia had needed them. Both of them.
Colby knew he was good at being a calming force. With hysterical teenagers. With subs bottoming out. With his not-always-stable family. He’d learned how to be a steady and soothing presence amongst chaos. And Georgia had needed some of that this morning. But that hadn’t been all she needed. She’d also needed a little wildness, a way to fight the bad crazy with good crazy. To find her own fire again. And Keats knew how to jump outside the lines and act on pure emotion. He knew how to light matches.
So seeing Georgia laughing and visibly relieved as she walked over to the pile of broken glass felt like a victory for all of them.
“Looks like you’re going to need to send your slacker assistant to Bed Bath and Beyond,” Colby said. “Or give up coffee.”
Georgia turned around, her brown eyes full of emotion as she stared back at them. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”
“Would you like a list?” Keats asked. “Because I have some suggestions.”
Georgia laughed. “Most inappropriate employee ever.”
Keats shrugged, unrepentant. “Want to fire me?”
Georgia glanced at Colby, smiled, then walked over to Keats, put her hands on his cheeks, and planted a full smacking kiss right on his mouth. “Yep. You’re canned.”
Keats blinked, clearly astonished. But when Georgia moved to step away, Keats hooked the collar of her shirt and brought her back in for more than a peck. Colby could hear Georgia’s gasp at the contact and he watched, riveted, as Keats parted Georgia’s lips and gave her the full devastating power of his mouth. Colby knew firsthand what that felt like and how impossible it was to resist. And sure enough, though Georgia had stiffened when Keats had pulled her back to him, now she melted in his grasp and kissed him back, sliding her fingers into Keats’s hair.
Colby had to swallow back the groan. So. Fucking. Hot. Both of them. His lovers.
No, not quite. Not his. Not really.
Not yet.
The last thought punched him right in the chest. The driving intention seeming to come from outside himself.
No, that wasn’t what this was. This was supposed to be casual, messing around. A little fling with Georgia. A little training with Keats. Maybe a threesome thrown into the mix if the two of them were open to it. That was what they were doing. That was what he’d agreed to.
But watching Georgia and Keats together, he knew he was lying to himself. If they all three ended up in bed together, he couldn’t imagine he’d be able to simply move on like he did every other time. Have some fun, do some kink, on to the next adventure. No way. He was in too deep already with both of them separately. Put them all together, and he didn’t have a fucking shot at staying cool and devil-may-care about it.
Because as he stood there he found himself wondering what it would be like to have more. To have it all. To have them both. What if they were truly his?
But he had to shake himself out of those fantasies. What he was imagining was a pipe dream. There were three of them. And two of the three weren’t looking for a relationship. Plus, even if they were out for more, this wasn’t a simple boy-meets-girl or boy-meets-boy arrangement. This shit would be more than a little complicated. And yes, his friend Jace had somehow managed to maintain a triad relationship, so Colby knew it could be done. But he’d also watched many others at The Ranch try nontraditional arrangements like that and fail miserably. Hell, his own record with all types of romantic relationships was damn dismal. Just because he’d started to want a committed relationship didn’t mean he’d necessarily be good at it.
He just needed to get his head together and enjoy this for what it was—friendship and a hot time with two kinky people.
Colby brought his focus back to the two people in front of him. Keats was in control of the kiss and pulled back after a few hot seconds. He smiled broadly at a stunned Georgia and touched the tip of his finger to her wet lips. “Now that one was worth getting fired for.”
Georgia’s wide-eyed gaze slid to Colby, her eyelashes fluttering as she apparently tried to get her bearings. “Uh . . .”
Colby smiled. “Keats, I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss my girl.”
Keats glanced over his shoulder at him. “Punish me later, Teach. Whatever the consequences are, they will have been well worth it.”
“Mmm,” Colby said noncommittally. “Or maybe I’ll just let her do it.”
Keats coughed, or maybe it was a choke, but he looked more turned on at the thought than worried. Colby would’ve called him a slut if he didn’t think Keats would perceive it as an insult.
Georgia put a hand to her forehead and shook her head. “Well, you two said you came over here to distract me. Mission accomplished.”
Colby walked over to her and tugged her into his arms. She came willingly, bringing her body up against his and peering up at him. He pushed a hair away from her cheek. “So what do you want to do next, Ms. Delaune? Sprinklers? Ordering Keats to take off his shirt and clean up the mess he made with the dishes?”
She smirked but there was a resolute look to her gaze. “It’s Lawrence, not Delaune. And no, I don’t want to do any of that. I want the two of you to take me out of here to get some new cups and maybe to lunch. And then wherever else you want to go. I don’t want you to let me back in my house until it’s time to go to sleep.”
Colby tightened his hold on her, hope building in him. “You sure?”
“Yes.” She looked to Keats, then back to Colby. “And if I panic and embarrass you while we’re out, I’m giving you permission to leave me be and pretend you don’t know me.”
Colby grabbed her chin. “Shut your mouth, Georgia Lawrence. You think I give a shit what anyone else thinks? You panic, we’ve got you covered.”
“Damn straight,” Keats said, stepping closer to them. “You’re safe with us, George.”
She smiled at the two of them, her gaze softening. “I know. I feel that. Thank you.”
Colby’s heart felt as if it had inflated in his chest. Trust. Coming from someone like Georgia, it was like pure gold being dropped in his hands. He wanted to lift her up, kiss her, tell her he was honored to have it because he knew how valuable a commodity it was for her. But he held himself in check. He needed to play it cool.
Even if he felt anything but on the inside.
Damn, he was fucked.