Page 167 of Piece Us Together

“Ask me what?”

“Can he marry Carter?” Keats answers.

Travis gasps, looking outraged. It’s funny. I laugh. He groans. “For fuck’s sake, Keats! You can’t just say that!”

“Why? He won’t be any more honest than he is now.” He turns to look at me again. “So? Can he?”

“That’s easy.” I reach for Travis, but he’s too far away. I pout and make grabby hands. With a roll of his eyes, he leans down until I can pat the top of his head a few times. “He loves you. Crazy lots. Sooo much. He’ll say yes.”

“I’m not asking if you think he’ll say yes,” Travis admits. “I’m asking your permission, buddy. To ask him.”

“Oh.” I frown again. “I am very tired.” I close my eyes. “I should call Nolan.” I sigh. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you, Trav? My baby brother? For always?”

“For always,” Travis echoes, his voice sounding weird suddenly. Lower. Hoarse.Maybe he’s tired too?“I promise you, Maison.”

I give him a thumbs up, not having the energy to open my eyes. “Coolio.”

“Alright, druggie. Let’s get you off the plane and in the car. Time to go home.”

“No. No, not home.” I wave my hand in the general direction I think they’re in, wanting them to stop. “Hunter’s. Bring me to Hunter’s.”

Keats laughs, patting my thigh. “Sure thing, buddy. We’ll get you to your guys. Just stay awake long enough to get in the damn car, yeah?”

All that really registers is that I’m going to get to see my guys. Soon, even. If we’re about to be in the car, it means we’re close.

I have just enough time to hear Travis say, “Hunter…Meridian?”

Then everything is black again.

It’s not as scary this time. Hunter and Nolan are there, waiting for me in the dark abyss of drugged sleep. I smile when I see them. I say, “I fucking missed you.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hunter

There’s a knock on my door just as Nolan is showing me how to properly chop carrots. Apparently there is a way to do it wrong—many ways, actually—and it turns out I’m great at all of them. I still have one clasped in my hand when I go to answer, a grin on my face. The door swings open, delivering me a sharp hit of relief at the sight of Maison.He’s back. He came back. Oh thank fucking god.

Then I register that he’s not alone. There’s a man on each side of him. The man from Thanksgiving—Keats, I think his name was—and…shit. Travis.

Travis raises an accusing eyebrow at me. I can’t focus on that, though. Because Maison is standing here, alive, safe, having come back to me, but he’s not standing on his own. He’s being propped up.

And there’s blood.

The carrot drops to the floor.

“Let us in, yeah?” Keats asks, glancing over his shoulder with a wince. It seems Maison isn’t the only one interested in keeping things secretive.

They can have their secrets, as long as he’s okay.

I stumble back, clearing the way as I fight down the urge to panic. This isn’t the time for that. This is the time for dom-mode. This is the time for me to be calm and controlled. To be the man he needs me to be. To be the man who promised him everything would be okay.

Nolan appears then, eyes wide and glassy. He steps forward, toward the couch where Keats is already starting to lower Maison. Then he steps back and turns, his eyes finding Travis. They narrow in a flash. There’s a real anger in his voice, surprisingly harsh, when he asks, “What the fuck happened?”

Travis doesn’t look surprised in the least, like he’s used to that kind of tone from a man who is usually so unbelievably kind and soft-spoken. “Shit went bad. He was double-teamed.”

“And where the fuck were you?” Nolan asks, his voice starting to crack now as his anger fades in place of other emotions. “Why didn’t he have backup?”

“Hey, Nol, shh, baby. Hey. Come here,” Maison calls from where Keats is placing him on the couch, waving his hand in our direction. He has one leg on the couch, the other on the damn coffee table. His words are slurring, I realize. Hopefully from pain meds and not blood loss. He gives Nolan a dopey smile. “Come here. Don’t yell at Trav. Missed you.”

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