Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Lucian called from the living room.
Those two made me smile. Ever since coming out as a dynamic of four, Lucian and KC, childhood friends, had turned into one of those old married couples, where Lucian was the one constantly fretting over KC.
“Daddy!” Kit yelled from somewhere. “I think Macklin is here! Yes, that’s him! I see him outside the window!”
“Excited much?” Shay teased.
“Um, yeah.” If blushing could be transferred to tone, Kit nailed it. “Why are you looking at me like that, Franklin? Stop analyzing me, please!”
“He’s probably just horny,” Noa said.
“For heaven’s sake,” Franklin grated out.
I chuckled and pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek on my way out of the kitchen. Jack and Franklin were cozying up on the couch next to River and Shay. Reese and Sloan were checking out my record collection, Kit was on his knees on the couch, peering out the window like an exuberant puppy, and I assumed Greer and Corey were in the basement—never mind. They were raiding the snack buffet with Lucian.
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to help, Colt?” Jack asked.
“Nah, you sit tight. We’re ahead of schedule and everythin’.” I ducked out into the entryway and opened the door right before Macklin could knock. And the sight sure was something. “Who died, sweetheart?” Because he looked like someone had died.
“Don’t get me started.” He kicked snow off his boots and entered, setting a bag on the floor.
I actually would “get started” because he wasn’t feeling well, that was for fucking sure.
“Don’t take off your shoes yet,” I said. Then I hollered for Luke and said Mack and I were gonna check on the slaves in the basement. I pulled on my coat and ushered Mack outside again.
Ahhh, fresh, frigid air. I needed that after the heat in the kitchen.
The private entrance to the studio apartment below was mere feet away, but it’d be a while before we got there.
“Okay, tell me what’s wrong.”
He shuddered at the cold and glanced at me sideways. “You always have to push, don’t you?”
He knew the answer to that.
If no one pushed, Mack didn’t speak. For always wanting everyone else to feel good, he wasn’t great at giving himself the same treatment.
He sighed and sniffled, his nose a bit red from the December weather. “I slept with Dean last night.”
Jesus Christ.
Yeah, I’d imagine Mack would feel bad about that, seeing as Dean was his brother-in-law. In Mack’s defense, he and Walker had been separated for four or five years—four, it had to be four.
Dean had just returned to us after teaching a couple semesters at Stanford. And apparently he’d reconnected with Macklin in a whole new way.
“Well…” I cleared my throat. “What’s his take on this whole thing? Y’all didn’t technically do anythin’ wrong.”
“I didn’t exactly stick around to find out,” Macklin muttered. “It was a drunken mistake.”
I nodded. “On account of you still bein’ in love with your husband.”
That earned me a swift scowl. “I’m not in love with Walker.”
I grinned. “All right.”
He was in love with Walker. Four years, they’d been split up. And neither could move on. Both had gone through a few relationships since then, each one failing because they couldn’t let go of each other.
“By the way, Gael isn’t coming,” he said. “He stopped by with the Secret Santa gift for Sloan when I was getting ready. He said he wasn’t feeling good.”
I’d love to say I was shocked.
“That boy’s gonna alienate himself sooner rather than later,” I murmured. Hell, he was already doing it. “I’ll have Luke call him after the holidays.” After all, the boy was new in our community. Pushing Macklin, who we’d known well for the better part of a decade, was another matter. If Gael didn’t wanna join us, we couldn’t force him. “Back to you, pet. How can we turn that frown upside down?”
“My boyfriend’s been trying to do that all day.”
I lifted my brows. “So you have one of them too?”
Anyone who could keep up with Macklin’s love life had to be a stalker.
He nodded with a dip of his chin and shuddered at a harsh gust of wind. “He’s amazing. We’re open, obviously. Not a single secret between us. But he can’t perform miracles.”
My mouth twitched with mirth. “Sweetheart, you don’t need a miracle. You need your husband.”
“For chrissakes, Colt.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sayin’ you should go back to the monogamous dynamic you had with him before. But don’t stand there and tell me you don’t miss him.”
“You sound like Lane,” he bitched under his breath.
“Who’s Lane?”
“My boyfriend.”
Ah. Well, then. Clever boyfriend. Selfless, too.
“Look.” Mack turned to me and took a breath. “What I need tonight is a distraction. Food, way too much to drink, and friends. Maybe I can convince Jack to let me play with him and Franklin too. Lane has a date.”