Page 133 of Piece Us Together

As we settle in, our bellies full, the movie still playing, a blanket wrapped around us. As Maison says, “Hunter? I think he’s asleep.”

As Nolan mumbles, “Not asleep,” without even opening his eyes.

As we turn the TV off and lead a stumbling, sleepy boy to the stairs. As Maison stops, his eyebrows pulling in. As he asks, “Where are we going?”

As my face heats and I admit, “I was taking you to my room. Now that this is real, now that you’re mine, I want you in my space. I want you there every night, by my side.”

As Nolan makes an almost wounded sort of sound even as his lips pull into a dopey grin. As Maison swallows hard and nods and says, “Yeah. We want that too.”

As we all curl around each other in my bed, one on each side of me, Nolan whispering, “Night, sir. Night, Mais.” As Maison sighs like he’s releasing a breath he’s been holding for eleven years. As I kiss each of their foreheads and say, “Good night, boys.”

By the time they’re asleep, safe and warm in my arms, the terror is back.

I can’t lose them.

Whatever it takes, I’m not fucking losing them.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nolan

I come to two realizations after waking up in the morning.

First, Hunter’s bed is larger, which means I am not getting an adequate amount of cuddles. Maison is sprawled to the left, looking adorably rumpled and at peace, but much too far away. Hunter is even worse on my other side, curled up with his back to us, sleeping away like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I huff and grab at Hunter’s arm, pulling until he sleepily turns toward me, fingers moving like he’s trying to figure out what’s happening through touch alone. I turn my back to him and nestle against his chest. He hums approvingly, arm wrapping tight around my waist before he relaxes back into the mattress.

Knowing that grabbing at Maison won’t work quite as well, I wiggle toward him instead. Hunter follows, grumbling, “Where y’think y’goin’?”

“Maison,” I whisper as an explanation. Hunter loosens his hold on me immediately, awake enough now to figure it out. I get my cheek on Maison’s chest. He makes a snuffling sound and brings a hand up to rest it on my head. Hunter curls backaround me, closing me in between them. His hand rests on Maison’s lower stomach. Maison’s other hand covers it almost immediately, fingers twitching like he’s double-checking it’s real.

“Five more minutes,” I tell them both, happy to doze some more now that I’m being properly cuddled.

Maison makes an agreeable sound while Hunter chuckles, but no one argues.

I come to my second realization when I stand in front of the fridge, dressed in Hunter’s briefs and Maison’s oversized sweatshirt, my two boyfriends sitting at the breakfast bar behind me with matching smiles and mugs of coffee. I realize that if the three of us are going to survive, there’s one duty I’m going to have to handle myself.

“Okay, I know it’s early and we aren’t quite starting our whole negotiation thing yet…” I turn away from the fridge, frowning at Hunter. His shoulders tense and I almost feel bad for making him worry.Almost. The man has five fucking things in his fridge, okay?Five. One of them—the tub of Greek yogurt—is even expired. It’s hard to feel bad about someone who does such a thing. “I’m going on record now that I’ll be doing the grocery shopping.”

Maison snorts a laugh while Hunter just raises an eyebrow. His shoulders have softened, though, relief visible in his expression as he asks, “Is that so?”

“Definitely. How can I be expected to make anything out of ketchup, milk, two eggs, expired yogurt, and pickles?”

“Jee-sus.” Maison whistles. “That’s bad, Hunter, even for me.”

“Okay, in my defense, I had planned on living off of takeout for my holiday weekend, apart from the pie I had been promised. It was going to be takeout andDrunk Historyand grading papers, remember? Even the Saturday meal with my friends was supposed to be provided by them, mostly, and thestuff Jax cooked here was going to be brought with and I was going to reimburse them.” His smile slips. “And then everything happened…with us. And shopping was really the last fucking thing on my mind.”

Now I feel bad.

“Hunter…” I approach the breakfast bar, resting my stomach against it. Maison is staring down at his coffee with his head ducked low. Hunter is looking over at him, face full of guilt, as if telling his truth wasn’t fair.

“Sir,” I say next. That gets him to look at me, his eyebrows pulled tight. I lean over a little, placing my hands over his. Then I smile. “I’m sorry the three of us had such a hard few days. Really. Truly. But,sir.” He starts to smile then, picking up on my tone. I shake my head at him. “I will be doing the grocery shopping from now on.”

He laughs, his eyes warm and fond. “Yeah, darling. Okay.”

“Starting now.”

His smile slips.

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