THIRTY-EIGHT
December
Colby sat in his living room, staring at one of the Die Hard movies on television. He hadn’t paid enough attention to know what the hell was going on, but the booming sound of things blowing up certainly fit his mood.
He flipped over his cell phone. No calls. Neither Keats nor Georgia had bothered to respond to his invitation to grab dinner together. That seemed to be the case a lot lately. They always had good excuses, but he wasn’t dumb. Everything had changed.
He wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened or what had triggered it, but he’d felt the shift as sure as the cold front that had rolled through overnight. One day, it’d been the three of them, having a good time, falling into this exciting, oddly comfortable relationship. Things were turning around for them all. Colby had his job back. Georgia had made massive progress with her anxiety. And Keats had landed a gig that excited him.
Colby could’ve taken a photo and labeled it perfect. But the moment had been as fleeting as the click of the camera. Because after that, he’d felt the tug of the inevitable, the unraveling. Georgia, who’d been so open and up for what they were doing, had pulled away—spending more time at her place in the name of making a writing deadline. She was still pushing herself to get out of the house, but she wasn’t asking him and Keats to come along anymore. And Colby’s bed had been cold since before Thanksgiving.
Then if the writing hadn’t been all over the wall already, Keats had come home one day with apartment brochures. That had really punched Colby right in the gut. He’d known that Keats couldn’t stay here forever. They’d done their relationship backward, moving in together first. And that had made things more intense and intimate for the start of something. Keats was a young guy who was just discovering a big piece of his sexuality. Of course he’d want some freedom and independence. He wouldn’t want to shack up with a guy in his thirties and play house indefinitely. But Colby had to admit, part of him had imagined that scenario. And he’d imagined Georgia in that mix, too.
The days he’d walked into his place and had both Keats and Georgia hanging out there, waiting for him, happy to see him, had been some of the best of his life. He loved the way being around them dialed him up to rattle-and-hum mode. It was like everything was sweeter when he had those two to share it with. And though he’d tried to convince himself it was just the amazing sex that was making him feel so damn good, he knew that was bullshit. Because some of the best nights he’d had with them had involved no kink or sex at all.
He liked being with them. Period.
No, he loved being with them. He loved them. Both of them.
And now he suspected he was losing both for good.
The sound of a key in the door drew his attention away from the TV. Keats hurried through the front door in a gust of frigid air and dry leaves. He shut the door with a bang. “Goddamn, it’s cold out there. Did someone forget this is Texas?”
Colby lowered the volume on the TV. “They said we could get snow.”
Keats slipped out of his coat and hooked it on a peg by the door. “I have no idea why George is so anxious to get back to Chicago. If it’s this cold here, I can’t imagine what it must be like there.”
“Picture this thirty degrees colder with wind that will make your bones hurt.”
“Fuck that.” He plopped down in the armchair across from Colby, looking windblown, red-cheeked, and damn fine in his dark green sweater. “You should use that in your argument to get her to come back here after the trial.”
He frowned. “I don’t think weather’s going to convince her.”
“You want her to stay, though, right?”
Colby sighed. “I do.”
“Have you asked her to?”
“No. She told me where she stood up front. It was her hard limit—no pressure, nothing serious. I’m not going to break my word on that.”
He blew out a breath. “I asked her. Right before Thanksgiving.”
Colby’s brows lifted. So that was what had happened. “I’m guessing she said no.”
“She said no to me. Not to you.”
“Saying no to you is as good as saying no to me, Keats. All three of us are in this together. Or were in this together. She’s got to want to be here on her own. And this is still so new to all of us. It’s a lot to ask her to give up her life in Chicago for that. It’d be a huge leap of faith.”
“And what if I weren’t involved?”
Colby frowned. “What do you mean?”
“George told me what she wants. She wants to get married, have kids one day, do the family thing.”
Colby sat forward. “She told you that?”
“Yeah. The day I asked her to stay. And I’m guessing that’s what you want, too. I mean, I know you’ve done this bachelor gig for a long time, but I’ve seen how you are with kids. And I see how you look at Georgia. You could offer her what she wants if she comes back and gives your relationship a shot. You’d make a great husband and dad, Colby. You know you would.”
Colby wasn’t going to deny that a big part of him wanted those things in his life. He hadn’t always, but at his core, he knew there was no going back to the way he lived his life before. He’d already put in his resignation for his position at The Ranch. Those impersonal hookups held no appeal anymore. But he also knew a triad relationship didn’t exclude the possibility of having a family. And he didn’t like where this was going. Keats had that look in his eye. “Why are you even saying all this?”
Keats pulled something out of his back pocket and set it on the coffee table. A key. “I got my own place today. I can move in right after Christmas. You can tell Georgia before she leaves how you feel about her. And that you just want to be with her. That will make her come back to you when she’s done with the trial. I know it will.”
Colby stared at the key, trying to process Keats’s words and logic, cold moving through him. “So you’re just going to walk away?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged, though he wouldn’t meet Colby’s eyes. “I mean, it was going to have to happen eventually, right? Three’s fun, but it’s not real life. Someone was going to have to step back at some point. You two can have what you want together.”
“That simple, huh?”
Keats plucked a piece of sweater fuzz off his jeans. “Yep.”
Colby’s teeth clenched, and he reached out and thumped Keats on the thigh. “Look at me.”
Keats, ever the good submissive, lifted his gaze. Something heavy sat there in those green eyes.
“So you’re ending things with me?” Colby clarified.
“It’s not like that. It’s just . . . you two are great together. Y’all don’t need me in the way.” He pushed his hair behind his ears. “Me being involved complicates things for no reason.”
Colby fought the urge to find his riding crop and snap some sense into Keats. “Is that right?”
Keats shrugged again—like it was no big thing, like it was a foregone conclusion.
Colby leaned forward, pinning Keats with a hard stare. “Keats, you listen to me because obviously you need to hear this. If you’re walking away from me because it’s gotten too serious too fast or because you want to explore this new side of yourself with other people or because you’re not ready for a relationship, then by all means, take that key and go start your new life. I wish you well. Truly.
“But if you’re doing this because you think you owe me something or because you think you’re in the fucking way, then pay attention to what I’m saying.”
Keats’s jaw flexed.
“I’m falling for Georgia, yes. If I could get her to come back and be in a relationship, I could see myself marrying her one day and having kids who have those pretty dark eyes and curls of hers.”
Keats closed his eyes like it made him ache to picture that.
“But outside of how I feel about her, stupid me has already fallen in love with you. The twenty-three-year-old kid who I should be pushing out the door because he doesn’t need to be stuck with some guy in his thirties who’s ready to settle down.”
Keats lifted his gaze and stared at him, expression going slack.
“So if you walk out on this, do it because you want to be free, because you’re not ready for a commitment, or because you don’t want to be with me. But don’t you dare do it because you think you’re doing me some solid. Because all it’s going to do is rip my fucking guts out.”
—
Keats couldn’t get his brain to kick in or his mouth to work. All he could do was gape dumbly at the man across from him. The man who’d just admitted he was in love with him. In love. Colby Wilkes loved him.
A thousand thoughts raced through Keats’s mind at once. What Colby wanted—commitment, long term, settling down. Those were words that should scare the ever-living fuck out of Keats. But somehow he couldn’t grasp onto the fear. After that afternoon in the kitchen with Georgia, he’d made an effort to separate himself from the situation, to find his own way. He’d started going out to clubs and bars here and there after work. Straight ones, gay ones. He hadn’t gone out to hook up with anyone, but he’d done it trying to wean himself off the intense feelings he was having about Colby and Georgia, to get a taste for what the single life would be like for him now. And to give Colby and Georgia some alone time.
But though he’d danced with beautiful girls and hot guys and had been flirted with, propositioned, and even kissed by one dude, he hadn’t been able to muster up any real interest. As he watched people play the mating game, he’d wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with Colby and Georgia. He didn’t crave variety. He craved them. They felt like home. Maybe more than anything had in his life.
And Colby wanted him here. He wanted him. For real. Not because this was part of some fun threesome. Not because Colby was training him. And not because he was doing Keats a favor. Colby loved him.
Keats pushed to his feet, feeling as if he were filled with helium. All the heavy shit that had been weighing him down for weeks seemed to fall away. He grabbed the key he’d plunked down and walked around the coffee table. His pulse pounded at his temples, so many emotions running through him at once, but he managed to take Colby’s hand, unfurl his fingers, and place the key in his palm. Colby’s hand closed around it. Then Keats lowered himself to his knees.
All felt right in the moment. The restless energy that had been plaguing Keats quieted as soon as he was there at Colby’s feet. He lifted his head and met Colby’s gaze. “I don’t want to be free.”
Colby’s throat worked. “No?”
“No. I love you, too. So goddamned much.” The steel fingers that had gripped his chest for the last few weeks loosened, letting him finally take a full breath. “I’m starting to think I always did.”
Colby smiled a smile that threatened to crack open Keats completely. The guy could break someone with that smile. “So you’ll stay?”
“Looks like you’re stuck with your stray now. You should’ve never fed me.”
Colby shook his head and cupped Keats’s chin. “You were never a stray. You’ve always been a guy who needed to make his own way. I’m just lucky that you found your way to me.” He lifted Keats’s chin higher. “But maybe it’s time I get you a collar so that you never doubt again where you belong and who you belong to.”
Keats closed his eyes and breathed that in. His heart felt like it was trying to climb out his throat so it could hand itself to Colby. Goddamn, he was turning into a sap. But he knew what a collar meant in Colby’s world. No, not Colby’s world. Their world. “I would love that. I want to belong to you.”
And to Georgia. But Keats knew you couldn’t always get everything you wanted. He and Colby could be happy together. He would do everything he could to make sure of it.
Colby leaned forward, drawing Keats up to him, and kissed him slow and deep. The kiss said everything words couldn’t. And something inside Keats that had been out of alignment maybe all his life clicked into place.
Colby pulled back, meeting Keats’s gaze. “I think it’s time for bed.”
“I’m all yours, sir.”
Colby nodded, that steely dominance coming into his eyes—a look that made Keats’s bones liquefy. “Good. Because I’m taking everything tonight.”
Keats shuddered at the promise of what that meant, but it was pure anticipation at this point, no fear. Up until now, Colby hadn’t pushed Keats to move to that final step in the bedroom. He’d told Keats he wouldn’t fuck him until he knew Keats was ready. They’d touched, they’d played, Colby had used toys on him. At points, Keats had been so turned on, he’d begged Colby to take him. But at the root of it, he hadn’t been ready, and Colby had picked up on that.
Now, he had no doubts. He wanted to give Colby everything. He wanted to surrender it all.
They made their way to the bedroom, Colby’s hand on the back of Keats’s neck, and Colby ordered him to get undressed. Keats got to work as Colby disappeared into the closet. Keats’s eyes lingered on the closed curtains for a moment, wondering what Georgia was doing. He wished he could open them and see her standing in that window, looking down at them. She’d probably love this kind of show. Keats smiled to himself. Dirty, dirty George. Damn, he missed that woman.
He shook free of the wistful feeling and unbuttoned his pants. He couldn’t worry about what ifs tonight. What is was far too good to let anything spoil the mood. He finished undressing and set his folded clothes on a chair by the door. He’d learned the hard way that Colby didn’t like his submissive’s clothes thrown around the floor.
When Colby stepped out from the closet, he was rolling a riding crop between his fingertips. “I think we’ll keep it simple tonight, which isn’t to say it won’t involve some suffering on your part.”
Goose bumps pricked Keats’s skin. This was the part he might like best. Before this, he would’ve never thought of himself as a masochist, even though he’d always enjoyed getting his tattoos. But he couldn’t deny what a dose of pain did to him now. And Colby had gotten increasingly more aggressive in dishing it out with him. Keats knew Colby went a little easier on Georgia because, though she was generally up for anything, she didn’t seem to be a dyed-in-the-wool masochist. She liked the shifting power dynamics and the adventure of it all. She’d even had fun taking a little control herself. Somehow, Colby seemed to instinctively know what each of them responded to best and set it up to provide maximum enjoyment for them all. He wasn’t a one-size-fits-all dominant.
And from the look on Colby’s face right now, Keats knew that Colby had decided that tonight, Keats needed some sting.
Colby walked over until he was right in front of Keats and leveled him with a look. He tapped Keats’s cheek, which was a sign to open his mouth. When he did, Colby put the riding crop between Keats’s teeth. “Bite down.”
Keats obeyed, the unyielding handle of the crop pressing against his teeth.
“Now go over to the bed and bend over, forehead to the mattress, hands behind your back. Let go of the crop and you’ll regret it. Nod if you understand.”
Keats nodded, sweat already gathering on the back of his neck.
He walked over to the bed, keeping his back straight, and then bent over to get into position. He clasped his hands behind his back. Despite the cool air in the bedroom, his cock went hard almost instantly.
“If you need to safe out, you drop the crop and say your word or lift an arm.” Colby ran a warm hand down the length of Keats’s spine, and Keats had to fight to stay still.
He had no idea if Colby was just going to go for it. Was this the moment? A blanket of nerves fell over him.
“Widen your feet,” Colby said, his tone militant. “And relax. If you want to take me, you’re going to have to learn to let me in.”
Keats sucked in a deep breath through his nose, careful to hold on to the crop, and released it, trying to let go of the tension as well. He did it three more times.
“Very good, Adam. I like that you can follow instructions.” Colby ran his hand along Keats’s inner thigh and then cupped Keats’s testicles in his hand with a firm grip. He gave them a little tug.
Keats groaned, the snap of discomfort mixing in with the pleasure of being handled.
“You should see how fucking sinful you look right now. That gorgeous body, all that ink, this hard cock and spread ass. One day I’m going to tie you down like this and enjoy the view while you beg me to touch you.”
Fuck. Keats almost lost his grip on the crop.
“But I’m not feeling patient tonight. I’m ready to mark what’s mine.” His fingers trailed along Keats’s crack and found his opening. He teased around it for a second and then pulled away.
Keats made a sound of protest in the back of his throat, but then he heard the sound of the lube squirting into Colby’s hand. Soon, the fingers were back, painting Keats’s most forbidden spot with the slick fluid. Colby pushed a finger inside, and Keats thought he might die from the wave of need it sent through him.
“You’re going to take this plug for me,” Colby said, adding another finger to the stimulation. “It’s not quite my size but it will get you ready for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Keats mumbled around the crop.
Colby took his fingers away and then something colder and more pliable pressed against his opening. Keats forced himself to relax, taking a few deep breaths again, and then the tip of the plug breached him. The pressure felt good, but Keats had seen what the plugs looked like. They got wider at the base, so he tried not to brace for what was to come. Colby twisted the toy, the ripples in the silicone stimulating Keats’s sensitive flesh, and then he pushed it deeper. The stretching feeling was almost too much to take for a second—some weird combination of pain and pleasure intersecting. Keats desperately wished he could reach down and stroke his cock, tip the scales more to the pleasure side, but he kept his hands clasped tight behind his back.
Finally, the plug seated deep, and Keats’s body melted around it, the flared base holding it in place. Colby gave it another twist and Keats fought to keep from begging.
“You’re good?” Colby asked.
“Yes, sir,” he said again from between clenched teeth.
“Perfect. Then you won’t mind this.”
The plug hummed to life, vibrating a place that had never been vibrated in Keats’s life. He dropped the crop. “Shit.”
“Oh, well, would you look at that,” Colby said, the Texas twang getting heavy in Colby’s voice. Keats had found the more turned on Colby was, the more country came out. “Looks like you couldn’t follow the rule.”
“Sorry, sir,” Keats said, fighting the urge to move his hips and rub his cock along the bed. The vibration was going to drive him to the brink.
“I’m not. More fun for me. Get up, Adam, and stand beneath the hook.”
Keats released his hands and pushed himself off the bed. The plug made him feel full in the most erotic way, but he managed to get his legs moving so he could go to the spot where Colby wanted him.
Colby went over to his drawer and pulled out his favorite—rope. Then he took his goddamned time, tying Keats’s arms to the hook in the ceiling. Keats felt his thoughts hazing around the edges already, the high of submission kicking in.
Colby made sure Keats was secure and then grabbed the riding crop off the bed. He stood in front of Keats. “Look at me, Adam.”
Keats lifted his head, finding Colby looming big and powerful in his jeans and dark blue sweater—the teacher transformed into the all-powerful master.
Colby stepped into Keats’s space and reached down to give Keats’s cock a squeeze. “Ready to fly for me?”
Keats swallowed hard. “I’m ready to do anything for you.”
“Good answer.” He pulled a strip of black satin out from his pocket and tied it around Keats’s eyes. “See you on the other side.”
The blindfold was the last thing Keats needed to settle in fully. He felt himself slipping into the happy place where all he had to do was give himself over to whatever Colby was going to do to him. Freedom.
And what Colby did was more than he’d ever given Keats before. The riding crop, which he’d seen Colby use in such a playful way with Georgia, was a wicked bitch when yielded with force. And Colby wasn’t holding back tonight. The sharp snap of the leather marked a path against every part of Keats’s back, ass, and thighs. Snap, snap, snap. The rhythm brutal and unrelenting. It echoed through the room without any words being spoken to interrupt. Every part of Keats’s backside burned and tingled. That, paired with the vibrations going on inside him, had his knees going weak within minutes.
“Stand tall,” Colby said, snapping the crop right against the base of the plug.
Keats’s spine went straight and stiff.
“Better. I’m only halfway done, and I know you’re tougher than that.”
“Yes, sir,” Keats said, breathless, sweating.
The sound of Colby’s footfalls moved off to Keats’s left and then another lighter blow hit his nipple. Oh, shit. Colby had moved in front of him.
Colby hit the other nipple with a little more sting added, and Keats grunted.
“Still with me?” Colby asked, pushing the leather of the crop beneath Keats’s chin. “Looks like your cock certainly is.”
“Still here. Both of us.”
Colby gave a low chuckle. “And still a smartass.”
He traced the tip of the crop down Keats’s neck and over his chest—lower, lower, lower. Keats felt everything in him cinching tight, knowing what his deviant lover had planned.
But even though he’d known it was coming, when Colby flicked the crop against Keats’s balls, Keats almost lost hold of what little composure he had. It hadn’t been a hard hit. But even so, knowing he was that vulnerable, that his most delicate parts were at the mercy of Colby’s whims, dialed into something elemental in Keats. In that moment, he felt his body surrender fully. Without conscious thought, his stance widened.
“Mmm,” Colby said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before, like his own arousal was overtaking him. “You like that.”
Keats didn’t think Colby was expecting an answer on this one, so he simply lowered his head.
Colby took that as assent. He tapped the underside of Keats’s cock, then his inner thighs and balls again, marking a path that quickly morphed into erotic stimulation instead of pain. Every part of Keats’s body felt like it was humming with electricity, all of it alive and awake, his cock leaking with the intense arousal. And he couldn’t find a shred of shame in any of it.
This was who he was. And this man was who Keats could be all versions of himself with—no judgment. This was what love felt like. He wouldn’t apologize for that.
Soon, hands were cradling Keats’s face, and Colby’s mouth was on his. As their tongues stroked against each other, Keats found himself sinking into that state where he was all feeling and sensation.
Colby pulled back, cupping the back of Keats’s neck. “I’m going to get my knife and cut the ropes. I don’t want to waste time untying everything. But I need you to stay still. Can you do that for me?”
Keats nodded and let himself drift on the sensations of his tingling skin and the vibrator working its magic. Colby moved quickly and got Keats out of the ropes. He rubbed Keats’s arms and hands, bringing the blood rushing back to them. Then he tugged off the blindfold.
Colby had stripped out of his clothes, and Keats let himself take in the view with hungry eyes. Because Colby sometimes stayed dressed in the bedroom, it always felt like a special privilege to see him completely stripped down.
Colby nodded at Keats. “Get on the bed, lie on your back.”
Keats licked his dry lips. “My back, sir?”
Colby stepped closer, using the few inches in height he had on Keats to his full advantage. “Yes, Keats. Tonight I need to fuck you face-to-face. I want to watch you as I make you mine.”
Keats’s stomach flipped over. He couldn’t imagine anything better.
Getting onto his back on the bed reignited some of the sting the crop had caused, but he welcomed it. It brought him back into the moment, centering him again. He liked the buzzing feeling from the pain, but he didn’t want to miss a second of this. He scooted up the bed.
Colby grabbed supplies from the bedside table and then climbed onto the bed between Keats’s legs, looming over him. “Put your palm out.” Keats lifted his hand to Colby, and Colby drizzled lube onto Keats’s palm. “Stroke yourself while we do this. It will make it easier for you. But you don’t get to come until I do. So you slow down if you feel yourself getting close.”
“Yes, sir.”
Keats wrapped his hand around his cock and gave it a welcome stroke. But the lazy pleasure didn’t last long because Colby chose that moment to tug on the plug. “Easy now.”
The plug slid free but not without almost sending Keats into orgasm as it glided over that sweet spot inside him. Colby set the plug aside and replaced it with his generously lubed fingers. He peered down at Keats as he moved from one to three fingers, stretching him and readying him. It had to be one of the most erotic moments of Keats’s life. Colby gazing down at him with lust and love in his eyes, his fingers working him like he owned him.
Colby moved his hand away and shifted position, and then he was rolling on the condom and lubing up his own cock, turning it glossy in his grip. Keats gave his own dick a squeeze, warning his body not to jump the gun yet.
But luckily, Colby wasn’t going to make him wait any longer. Colby put his hands on the backs of Keats’s thighs and pushed his legs upward, opening him fully to Colby. Their eye contact didn’t break as Colby positioned himself at Keats’s entrance.
“Ready for me?” Colby asked.
“Yes. Please.”
Colby pushed forward slowly. The head of Colby’s cock felt so much bigger than the plug. An impossible amount of pressure. And Keats had a brief moment of panic that they wouldn’t be able to do this, that his body wouldn’t be able to accommodate Colby. But he breathed through it and stroked his own cock, focusing on relaxing and accepting the pleasure. The tight ring of muscle stretched and burned as Colby eased forward and before Keats could drag in another breath, his body gave way, taking Colby inside.
The taut, full feeling almost sent Keats into orgasm before Colby slid deep, but Keats squeezed the base of his cock and locked onto Colby’s gaze, determined to hold off for him.
Colby’s eyes closed, and the veins in his neck bulged as he seated himself fully inside Keats. It was the hottest damn thing Keats had ever seen—Colby overtaken with need. And he got the sense that he wouldn’t be the only one fighting back a too-quick orgasm.
“Fuck,” Colby groaned.
“That’s the idea.” Keats smiled.
Colby opened his eyes, his gaze holding playful warning.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be. If you can make jokes, then I must not be hurting you too much, which means I don’t have to hold back as much as I’m trying to.”
Keats shook his head. “Don’t hold back. I want everything, Colby. I know what my safe word is. Trust that I’ll use it if I need to.”
Something broke over Colby’s expression and he gave a nod. “I do trust you.”
And with that, there was no turning back. Colby rocked back and then sank deep again, continuing with long, slow thrusts that had Keats feeling as if every cell in his body were ready to split in half and re-form into something new.
Colby’s eyes never moved away from Keats’s face. Keats held on to that connection as his hand moved over his own cock in the same rhythm, and he welcomed Colby into every corner of himself.
Time seemed to stretch and lengthen, the room fading around them. It was just him and Colby and this intensity brewing between them. This was so much more than Keats had ever expected. And he knew without a doubt that he was where he was supposed to be. Everyone else be damned. Nothing wrong could feel this right.
Soon, sweat glazed them both, and slow and steady fell by the wayside. Keats’s hand was moving faster and faster and Colby was pistoning into him with tense need on his face, his damp hair curling at his temples. “You ready to come for me, Adam?”
“God, yes.”
“Then come.” Colby pushed on Keats’s thighs, opening him even wider, and sank impossibly deep, rubbing over that sensitive spot over and over again as he pulled back each time.
Every drop of blood in Keats seemed to race downward, and he exploded. His release jetted out over his hand, splashing his belly and chest as he groaned and grunted like a crazed animal.
Then Colby went over, his face contorting in pleasure and his cock pulsing inside Keats as another wave of sensation moved through Keats.
Colby had promised to send Keats flying, but he’d launched him into the fucking stratosphere instead.
When they both quieted, Keats reached out and wrapped his arms around Colby and pulled them both into a heap in the sheets. They were a mess. They were spent. It was perfect.
Keats glanced at the window. Well, almost.
—
After their night together and a long, hot shower, they both should’ve been exhausted. But Colby’s mind was whirling as he lay in the bed, Keats stretched out on his back next to him. And from Keats’s constant shifting of position, he could tell Keats was struggling to settle down, too.
“What are you worrying about over there?” Colby asked, keeping his eyes closed. “I can hear you thinking.”
Keats was quiet for a long minute. “Do you miss it being the three of us?”
Ah, that question. It could be a sticky one, but he wasn’t going to lie to Keats. “Are you asking if you’re enough?”
“No,” Keats said, moving onto his side to look at Colby. “It’s not about that—honestly. I was just wondering if you miss her.”
Did he miss Georgia? He missed both of them when they weren’t around. “I do.”
Keats’s eyes looked gray in the moonlight, pensive. “Do you think she’s doing what I was trying to do?”
Colby glanced toward the window, trying to picture what Georgia was up to right now—probably curled up and sleeping. Alone. “What do you mean?”
“She told me you were falling for me on that first night we were all together. She saw what was happening between us but couldn’t see that she was part of it. Do you think she pulled away from us to give us room to be together?”
Colby grimaced. “Y’all are a bunch of misguided self-sacrificing fuckers if that’s the case. But no, even if that’s in the back of her head, I don’t think that’s the main reason. I think she cares about us. And I know we could make her happy. But she can’t see past the trial. She’s protecting herself. And us. There’s a big possibility that sicko could walk. If he does, she won’t come back here.”
Keats’s jaw clenched. “If he goes free, that would be the end for her. She’d never feel safe again.”
“No, she wouldn’t, and this guy has murdered people who are close to her. That’s his M.O. So guess who’d be first on the list if she stayed in a relationship with us?”
“I’m not afraid of that shitbag. I wish he’d try to come after us. That’d give me a chance to take him out of her life for good.”
Colby rubbed a hand over his face, the urge to tear Phillip apart a recurring one. “Look, I’m with you. But Georgia’s not going to risk anyone she cares about. If he’s acquitted, she’s going to disappear again and not let anyone near her.”
Thinking of Georgia all alone, always hiding, locked in some house somewhere again, made Colby ill. And angry. And fucking helpless.
“God. We can’t let that happen,” Keats said, stricken.
Colby sighed. “I know. And it’s hard putting faith in our justice system—especially when it comes to a sociopath who has a lot of money and legal knowledge.”
“That’s like putting faith in fucking roulette,” Keats complained. “Maybe we should just go to Chicago and hunt that bastard down ourselves. Accidentally run him over with your truck. Oops, sorry, motherfucker, good luck in hell.”
Colby snorted. But then got quiet. Thinking . . .
Keats nudged him in the side. “Okay, you know I wasn’t serious, right?”
Colby tapped his fingers along his sternum, thinking, thinking, thinking. How hard would it be to make a trip to Chicago and draw Phillip out? If the guy was so fixated on Georgia, knowing she was seeing someone else could drive him to the brink again. If Colby could get him to try something, set him up, maybe he could get the guy caught in the act.
But before he could open his mouth to share his thoughts with Keats, there was a loud banging at the door.
“What the fuck?” Colby said, pushing up on his elbows and peering at the time. Past midnight.
“Want me to go?” Keats asked, sitting up.
“Nah, I got it.” Colby swung his legs to the side of the bed and reached down for his discarded pants and shirt. He stood and tugged both on. The banging came again. “Goddammit. I’m coming.”
He headed into the hallway and strode toward the front door, his body prickling with worry. Midnight house calls were never a good thing. The last one he’d gotten was when he’d been notified his brother had been arrested. He didn’t turn on any lights to alert anyone he was home. If the face on the other side of the door wasn’t a cop, a firefighter, or a friend, the door wasn’t getting opened.
But when he peered through the peephole, he went for the lock instantly. He swung the door open. “Georgia?”
She shook her head and tears leaked out her eyes.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
But before she could answer, he heard the gun cock. A man stepped out of the shadows from behind her. “Better let us in, baby.”