Page 148 of Full Mountie

“Oh? Is it kinky?” He asks that with a joyful wiggle of his eyebrows, and to my surprise, it helps.

Kinky sandwiched between bi and poly, in the crazy layers that make up my sexual identity. And as I think about that question, all the pieces fall into place.

It took an affair with Hugh for me to fully realize myself as bisexual. But I’d run scared. That taste of insanity—too addictive, too perfect—was more than I could handle.

But I’d had that taste. And I couldn’t ignore it. Pretending I hadn't been changed was impossible, so instead of retreating, I'd forged ahead in the only way I could find that matched my rule-and-order identity. Kink, with all its protocol and agreed upon boundaries.

And now I’ve got Hugh again, this time with Beth.

There is no order to loving Hugh.

No rules for how wild and hot Beth makes me.

Zero protocol that addresses how to carry on as if falling for them both hasn't altered me on a cellular level.

I nod slowly. “Yeah, it’s kinky. And so much more.”

Before I know it, the whole sordid mess is spilling out. From Moose Lake through to me walking out on them this evening.

Credit where it’s due, Max hasn’t said a word. Not so much as a judge-y expression.

When I finally finish, my bottle is empty and I’ve been spinning it around it my hands for a few minutes. I tap it against the tabletop and lift my hands in the air. “So that’s it. That’s where we’re at. I thought I could handle it, but then I blow up at Beth about Benton being on to us—and only half of us.”

“You didn’t blow up just now at me, though. Maybe cut yourself some slack? Because, yeah. I’d say that definitely qualifies as complicated and unconventional.” He goes to the fridge and grabs another beer and holds it up. “Are you good for another, or…?”

I am fine to have a second, but I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Can I get you something else, then? Pop, juice, water?”

“Actually, water would be good.”

Max opens his beer and sets the bottle on the table, then brings me a glass of water.

“Don’t think about it, just spit out the first thing that comes to mind. What do you want? Or maybe I should ask, who do you want?” he asks.

“I’m greedy. I want them both.”

“Then, what’s stopping you?”

Shit. When he says it like that, I can’t believe it’s that simple. “I gotta go.”

“No shit. I mean, good luck.”

“Thanks.” I’m going to need it. I have some world class grovelling to do.

53

Hugh

Lachlan’s been gonefor a few hours. Officially, I’m not worried. I understand a man needing some space. I’ve been that man more than once.

Unofficially, I don’t like this. It’s not a good sign that every time we hit a speed bump, we break a little bit.

Beside me on the couch, Beth sighs. Okay,wedon’t break. Lachlan and I are struggling with the dynamics here way more than she is. Even with her teary frustration earlier, she’s unwavering in her knowledge that she wants this relationship, complicated dynamics and all.

“What are you thinking?” she asks without looking up from her book.

“That you’re tough, and amazing, and we probably don’t deserve you.”

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