I scrub a hand over my beard.I feel like shit.I’m too old for tours, even abbreviated ones.“So what the fuck do you want?”
“I want to talk about you, me, and Ella.”
My heart starts to disintegrate.I worried about this day, back with our other relationships, although I never thought to worry about it with Ella because everything feels so perfect.But it’s always been a fear, before, that Kingston or I would have to tell the other we wanted the woman for ourselves.
He wants Ella.
And I don’t think I can let her go.
“You can’t have her, man, I’m sorry,” I say.
“What?”
“I don’t want to have to fight for her or make her choose between us, but I will.”Fuck, it iswaytoo early for this conversation.
He laughs.The fucker laughs.
“What?”I say.
“That is not at all what I want to talk about, Bash, you stupid idiot.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.I want to know how you feel about our arrangement.If…if you’re in it forever.”
“That’s what we’ve basically told Ella,” I say.
“I need to hear it,” he repeats, his blue eyes vivid through the video call.His voice is serious.Even though he was laughing a second ago, he’s in no mood for bullshit.
I look directly into the screen, into my friend’s eyes.“You know, even though I don’t want to have sex with you, I love you, man.”
He only stares back, as if unable to speak.Finally, he says, “You’re my best friend—I love you, too.And…Ella?”
“I love her, too.”I rub my face, now wide awake and feeling like it’s time to get up.“This thing with her, sharing her with you, it’s permanent for me.”
He nods.“Good.I never thought it could be anythingbutpermanent.”
“You don’t think we’re too old for her, do you?”I ask.“I know it was a concern for you early on.”
“Nah.”He shrugs.“It bothered me at first, but if she’s happy, I’m happy.Fuck everyone else, they don’t get to judge us.”
It’s bothering me, ever since that dickhead Landen said something at the Church of Fortune practice.The way he looks at me during our sets together at their shows is pissing me the hell off.
“What do you think about getting her a collar?”King asks.
“We’re not really in the scene,” I say.“We haven’t been anywhere that it would matter.”
“It might matter to her.”
I think about it, how unsure she seems sometimes, how she’s worried that we’re going to pull the rug out from under her at any moment.
“Dude, you’re fucking right,” I say.“She needs a permanent gesture, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, I think she does.”
* * *
Ella