Page 165 of Crushing Clover

I held the piece out in front of me, completed, the color the same inky black as the room. The sleeves were a more or less equal length, and the light filtered through it relatively easily. There were spots where I’d made mistakes, but some of those had been on purpose. The sweater was perfect for him—goth, and slightly ugly. I smiled and folded it into my lap then put my supplies in the basket I kept next to my favorite spot.

Our creaky old house was nearly silent, except for the hum of the fridge. When I got up, my lap blanket fell to the floor, and I threw it onto the back of the loveseat, clutching my latest project and bringing it with me.

Excited, I made my way to the bedroom in the dark, avoiding the stairs that creaked worst, not wanting to wake him. I put my offering on the dresser, then found a vacant spot in bed and crawled in from the foot. All around me was warmth and muscle, and my hair ruffled with their breathing.

The love I felt for them, and the life we’d made together, still made my heart ache, but in the very best way.

“I was starting to wonder if you were ever coming to bed,” Saint said in a disapproving growl.

“I was almost finished.”

Had he waited up for me? His voice was clear, unaffected by sleep.

Even in the dark, I could almost feel him smile.

“It’s finished?”

“Finally.”

“Good little wife.” He pulled me to his side until I was smooshed against him. Whoever was at my back took up the space I vacated, the body hard against me. Our bed was a wonderful, comforting place, filled with all the people I loved.

I sighed, trying to relax after a few hours of exhilaration, having been so close to completing my project.

“I can’t believe you made me one. I thought you’d keep making excuses.”

“You know I had to finish the one for Lucky first. Your birthday isn’t for another month.”

“Now that you’re done, I can finally get rid of you.”

The months of worry that he would do just that, and then I would end up somewhere truly horrible, had turned into his version of an inside joke. Considering what they’d done to get me back, and all the affection and consideration that came my way, I knew how they felt about me now.

Besides, they’d officially set me free when we’d reached the East Coast, and I’d chosen to stay. They’d all looked like they were going to shit themselves until I’d given them my decision.

“Fiiine,” I said with mock resignation. “But can I use your hot body one more time before you kick me out, at least?”

His chuckle was a warm rumble I felt against my ear, and I smiled to myself in the dark.

“If anyone’s getting kicked out of this bed, it’ll be him, not you,” Rush said from my other side.

“Did wifey finally come to bed?” Lucky said from behind him, voice muzzy. Before I knew what was happening, Rush grunted as he rolled Lucky’s full weight on top of me. Lucky’s arms and legs splayed to drape over our lovers, and he kissed my face until I couldn’t breathe.

“Lucky, you’re squishing her,” Rush warned, as though this configuration of bodies hadn’t been his idea.

I tried to agree with his statement, but every time I exhaled, a little less air came back in. Slowly, I was becoming one with the mattress.

“You’re crushing Clover. Give her some air.” Saint fought his arm free from beneath me, then slid his arms around Lucky. In a move that would do a professional wrestler proud, he flipped him over and dropped him off the bed. Lucky squawked on his way down, and his landing thump shook the whole house.

“Boys!” I admonished. “It’s sleeping time, not wrestling time. You know the food truck is going to be busy as shit tomorrow.” The weekly farmer’s market always swamped us with patrons—the other days of the week weren’t much better. Six more months of saving, and maybe we could start looking for a venue for the new restaurant.

“I was thinking,” Lucky said from the floor. “We should find out how much a bedroom-sized wrestling ring would cost. Wecould drag blankets onto it when we wanted to sleep instead of fuck.”

“I’d always suspected your brain stalled when you hit puberty, and here’s the final proof.” Saint’s chuckle was affectionate rather than contemptuous. “There’s a good reason Clove has access to our savings account and you don't.”

I had a bank card, a phone, and ID again, and no traffickers had shown up to take me away. Then again, the guys had paid big money for me, and I lived a quiet life.

“To be fair, you became a grumpy old man prematurely,” I teased, poking him in the ribs.

He made a sound of automatic irritation and pushed away my fingers. Rush took my wrist and held it, as though he’d known exactly what was happening.

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