Page 13 of Breathless

Thoreau wasn’t so sure. And he wasn’t budging.

“You could technically say I’m family by marriage. I don’t have kids or animals. I’m a decent cook, and I have an extra apartment attached to mine for additional privacy or extended family visits. Not to mention, I have something at my place that will motivate Wyatt to heal faster than he would hanging out at your place playing videogames with Wes and Little Sean.”

Seamus snorted and shook his head. “Fiona?”

“I see you’ve met your cousin Wyatt. Yes. Fiona.”

Seamus seemed bemused. “Younger and I have been talking about the situation nonstop for the last two days, wondering if we should get him situated at the townhouse, just to move him again when Noah comes home. But we didn’t even put your duplex on the list for consideration. It seems kind of out of the blue.”

If he only knew.

“Impulsive is my middle name,” Thoreau said blandly.

Seamus crossed his thick arms, his blue eyes narrowing. “It really isn’t, and I don’t mean to do the Dad thing again, but I have to ask what this is about. To be honest, we’d given up on trying to figure out what’s been going on between the three of you a while ago, but you and Wyatt have never been the ‘You can stay at my place to recuperate’ kind of friends. At least, it never seemed like you were. We weren’t even sure any of you were still talking until Fiona showed up at the hospital.”

“I would say I didn’t realize so many people were interested in my personal life, but I work here so I know about the betting pool.”

“They started a pool?” Seamus asked. “When? How did I not know this? Was it Rory?”

“I think it was Natasha. I could be wrong.”

“Maybe not.” Seamus sent him a wide-eyed, speaking glance. “You should hear about some of the trouble my sister-in-law has gotten your sister mixed up in.”

“Oh, I have. And I know Bronte’s been the main instigator of those shenanigans. Her word, not mine. She says she can drop that s-bomb in any sentence now because she married Irish.”

Seamus smirked. “She’s right. That is in the vows. I should tell William, but I think I’d be breaking the bartender code.”

“He was a bartender before he owned the gym. I’d call that a loophole. Go ahead and tell him. I won’t be behind the bar as much now that Fiona’s back, and our little brewery is shenanigan-proof.”

“Is she back? Fiona, I mean, is she staying?” Seamus hesitated. “I put her on the schedule for next week, like she asked, and she knows she’ll always have a job here. But I was wondering…”

“I’m working on it.”

“And you’re sure that while you’re working on it, you want to watch Wyatt getting Florence Nightingaled by Fiona right in front of you? You know, men in need of fixing are like catnip for big hearts like hers. I feel guilty for saying this when I know how my own cousin feels about her, but if you wanted her for yourself…”

Thoreau knew he was waiting for a response, but he didn’t know what to tell him. Yes, he’d wanted her for years. When they were friends and she helped him get through finals, he’d wanted her. When they celebrated triumphs and spent hours talking on the phone and texting about those crazy Finns, he’d wanted her. When he watched Wyatt and Fiona circle each other like binary stars, he’d wanted to be a part of it, too.

How did he tell Seamus that the idea of sharing Fiona with another man hadn’t bothered him the way he’d always believed it was supposed to? That it didn’t diminish what he felt for her at all? Seamus’ sister was in a poly relationship, and initially it had caused a lot of waves in their family. Would that help him understand?

All Thoreau knew was, conventional or not, when something was right, you didn’t let it slip through your fingers without doing everything in your power to hold onto it.

What he felt for Fiona was right.

“She’ll want him there,” he finally said. “And I want what she wants.”

He wasn’t lying. And that was something he’d have to deal with, too. Something he’d been avoiding. Just one more reason why his plan needed to be put into motion ASAP.

“I don’t know what that expression on your face is all about, Thor,” Seamus said, his brow furrowing, “and I won’t begin to guess what Fiona wants, but I need you to tell her to try and tone it down for the next few weeks. You three can get back to whatever game you’re playing and all those fraught and meaningful undercurrents at a later date.” He paused, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head. “Yeah. I’m as uncomfortable talking about this as you are, but we’re discussing his health here, and you can’t take any chances with it.”

“I’m aware.” Thoreau walked around him, grabbing a clean swing-top bottle from a shelf and taking it over to the large refrigerator. He opened the door to reveal three small kegs labeled braggot, cream ale, and Irish red special.

Seamus got up and followed him. “Those are the proof-of-concept kegs for the beer in the tanks?”

“They are.”

“And that Irish red is—”

“You know the drill.”

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